Her Majesties Property
Used to be in Army in Oz. Out in the boonies it is customary to freesnake as heat and no showers for a couple of weeks can cause serious gonad-rot if you wear shreddies. One chap by the name of Will would not accompany the rest of us on the grounds his bell end was sensitive and insisted on wearing the same pair of jocks for a fortnight. (Yes it is possible to smell someone else crotch rot - from up to 10 feet). One other thing you need to know - Army rations clog you up for days. No need to waste time dumping daily, more time to walk pointlessly through the bush. When you do go, you go. I personally laid a two foot dump with the consistency of a tree trunk and the colouring of a giraffes neck. Anyway, Will came back in a high dudgeon after a weekly trip. Surprised, as you are normally elated after evacuating half a stone of turd, we asked what was wrong. It turned out that he had made a squatters error over the shit-pit, and had in fact coiled a monster into his precious undercrackers. No alternative but to cut the offending articles off and dump em. We had to put up with Will complaining loudly for the next five days that his sensitive instrument was being gradually eroded by friction with his trousers. Now a mate and I got exceedingly cheesed off with this. When he next crept off to the shitter, we snuck after him with an entrenching tool. Hiding in the bush directly behind the crapper, we stuck our military spade directly under his ringpiece and took possession of the most staggeringly big crap. It took both of us to hold it up, being at arms length and all that. Will, finishing up, peered into the hole (3 foot long, 1 foot wide, 3 foot deep - with only about the top 6 inches not already full of the shit of a whole platoon). Not spotting his log on top, Will panicked and went to check his trousers again. Now crapping whilst wearing webbing and holding a rifle aint easy. This spazz attack meant Will lost his footing and fell, arse first into the excrement and got stuck. Hearing our hilarity, our Directing Staff, a scary SAS sergeant, gave me and my chum the biggest bollocking we have ever had. Quote '...disgraceful misuse of her Majesties Property'. We then had to spend an hour taking turns to relay the turd-on-a-stick up and down the hill we were bivouaced on. Bugger.
(I am the infinite monkey!, Fri 7 May 2004, 16:21, Reply)