You bastards
I wanted my virginity on this board taken gently, with one of many tales of derring do upon the high seas and my small part in them.

This is my my metaphorical hymen being torn asunder.

I spent many happy years serving before the mast, I was good and well respected. I had (Have) a reputation as a bit of a pisshead but everyone who knew me would have trusted me with their lives.

I was 25 years in The RN Medical Branch and left as a Petty Officer, I was offered my Chief Petty Officers Rate but, though more money and a better pension I turned down because it would have been all admin and no patients and the reason I was respected was my diagnostic skills and my knowledge of anatomy and physiology.

I left the RN and joined to teach NCO's in the army how to teach their lads how to treat catastrophic battlefield injuries.

Here my story begins.

My boss was a halfwit called Nick and a non working example of the Peter Principle
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Principle

I say non working example because if I'd beceome a chief I would have recognised my level of incompetence and so would everybody else.

In the RN we tended to move these fuckwits to safe jobs where an eye could be kept. In the army they got rid of these prats by promoting them so they were someone elses problem (the Peter Principle refers to this as the lateral arabesque).

Nick, you're a halfwitted waste of oxygen who proves that rule. When a leader, being a section boss or even a managing director you are still human and still fallible.

What will always give you respect and undying loyalty is when you fuck up you stand up and say "I've fucked up".

When you're a useless lump of adipose tissue, people will see you just as that.

So Nick (used to work in the MoD in Gosport),
The only reason you managed to reach the dizzy heights of Staff Sergeant in the RAMC wasn't because you were good it was because you were and are an incompetent wanker who is detested by every good and honest squaddie who ever had to come into contact with your slimy self importance.

You lost me my job. That was the most important job I've ever done. I was saving lives and even now when a see a squaddie injured in Afghanistan I like to think that if he survives it may have been my knowledge and my teaching which contributed to his or her survival.

I lost that job because you, in your personal little fiefdom, fucked up. Rather than admit you fucked up you covered up and lied.

If you'd been a leader you'd have had the confidence to say "Sorry, I fucked up". Trust me no one would have thought any less of you. Your reputation precedes you and no one could ever think any less of you.

So I lost my job and, indirectly my house. Just because you couldn't hold your hands up.

To this day I wonder how 20 stones of fat can be ambulatory without the benefit of a spine (I know you're ex RAMC but to remind you,that's the long bony thing which stretches from the head down to where you talk from).

I fucking hope you die screaming and very, very slowly. Burning would be good, there's enough useless flesh surrounding that useless frame to slowly cook for days.

To finish this vitrolic missive I have to say I've been to war five times, the first in the South Atlantic in '82 last in the first Gulf War.I would embrace any of those I was fighting.

You are just a cunt and wouldn't piss on you if...Fuck it I would piss on you, and shit on you and pour petrol on you if you were set alight by an enemy. Not that there would be much chance of that, you could never be trusted anywhere where you may be required to provide any medical knowledge or, god forbid, leadership skills.

My family and friends are genuinely shocked about my hatred for you.

I've been beaten up on rare occasions. When that's happened I invariably deserved it and admitted as much have had a beer with whoever did it.

When shit happens I honestly just try to pick myself up and crack on.
I've managed that for fifty years. except when I had the misfortune to stumble into your little world.

That is why I hate you, my motto has always been 'Shit Happens'.
I met you, you're a shit and you've brought out of me a loathing that for 45 years I never thought myself capable of and a hatred I always thought myself above.

FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU. YOU CUNT

I hope he does read this.

Sorry for the unadulterated venom which has just dripped from your screen. I'm a nice bloke, I really am.

Peebs
(Pugwash, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 4:05, 4 replies)

i think...
someone needs a hug.
(hotpiss is very much liking your popping musics, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 9:32, closed)

I was hoping writing that would provide some form of catharsis.
It didn't and I still want to rip the bastard's head off and shit in his lungs.
The only bloke in my otherwise happy life I am wiiling to do time for.
But thank you for the sentiment
(Pugwash, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 12:01, closed)

I say...
...send it.
(mobi I completed the Internet on 'hard'. Twice., Wed 10 Mar 2010, 16:52, closed)

When I sent him an, admittedly shitty text telling I'd see him in court he raced (wobbled) to HR. They told him he was being a paranoid prick (I've spent my working life here and know lots of people and they told me).
He then wobbled to the police to make a complaint, they presumably, told him much the same

This, my friends, is a fine upstanding example of an ex Senior Non Commissioned Officer in the British Army. Very heavy irony here because I've never met another NCO, in any service, with whom I'd not trust my lfe.

Nick (I'm close to being pissed enough to outing you completely) you will die a cunt.
(Pugwash, Thu 11 Mar 2010, 0:41, closed)