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Posts Tagged ‘War’

Sargent_Stench_MctavishHello,

As ex-special forces I can kill using trapped wind.

In my book – life behind enemy lines in Iraq – “It’s Not Invasion It’s Liberation,” – I recount a story of Death by Bloat.

Here is an extract…..

“The Lethal Force Action Group were struggling. Sweat rash had laid Fungus Thompson out and Sniffer Tomkins and Jellytits O’Loon were  beginning to wilt.

Food supplies were running low. We were forced to lick eachother’s Athlete’s Foot for sustenance. On a good day I would give the lads access to my Veruccas. They are laden with protein.

My field training allowed me to make a tasty Athlete’s Foot/Verucca soup. To add flavour I used the chicken stock cubes and herb garland (Tarragon, Rosemary and Bay Leaf) I carry in my Ammo Belt.

The lads lapped it up!.

……………………………..Finally, after days of searching we came across the enemy compound. The Bad Lad from Baghdad was singing along to a Justin Bieber DVD warbling, “Baby, Baby, Baby, Baby” only in Arabic. ‘Cos he was an Arab.

I could smell soup. Vegetable soup. In less hostile times I would have volunteered my stock cubes and a dunk of the herb bouquet.

But I was here to serve my country, kill foreigners and find the gold bullion.

Gurkha Tenpin-Bowling reccied the compound and our one legged Sioux Brave, Itchy Scalp performed a rain dance (Footloose meets Dirty Dancing via The Exorcist).  I inched my way in. The Bad Lad from Baghdad was one mean looking compadre but had engrained gravy stains running down his shirt which lessened his evil visage.

I had to think. Fast. On my feet. I disguised myself as a bowl of soup. Well, more of a broth actually – but you get the gist….

soup_mctavish

The bowl containing me was placed on the table accompanied by lovely crusty bread rolls. Seeded.

I reconstituted myself and bamboozled the Bad Lad from Baghdad with cries of “Baby, baby, baby, baby” a la Bieber. He really was a Belieber judging by the posters on his walls.  I then used the trapped wind death grip on him.

The poor lad was a goner.

It turned out that he was not a Bad Lad from Baghdad, but Baghdad’s leading (only) Justin Bieber impressionist who recently had appeared on Iraqi TV’s “The Sunni and Shia Show” and was in town to sing at a local warlord’s surprise birthday party.

The bullion? No trace of it I’m afraid……….

beiber_sausage

 

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Nothing can replace the Big Screen in terms of excitement, magic and bigness. But we have noticed something odd. No chickens.

Sharks, horses, monkeys, turtles, dolphins, Jeez Louise even Ants have had films made about them. But Chickens? Only Chicken Run. No chicken road movies, chicken lurve, no chicken coming of age stories, not even a chicken in a war movie. Chick flick? me arse. A poultry effort.

Until now – Black Chicken Down

Ridley Scott’s powerful drama set in the mean streets of Mogadishwasher. Can Chopper Chicken rescue the soldiers trapped in this hell hole?

“You’ll believe a chicken can fly” – The Times

“The most realistic portrayal of chickens in war I have ever seen” – The Delaware Doubter

“Chopper Chicken is already a movie legend” – The Sydney Morning Glory

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Hello,

The best way to crack a terrorist?  Veruccas.

Sargent_Stench_Mctavish

I learned to love and cherish my veruccas. Not only were they a food source they also made steadfast companions. Easy to look after and not requiring sustenance apart from a sweaty sock or two, they make the perfect pet for us special forces types.

Terrorists cannot cope with Verucca Boarding. Whenever I whipped out my verucca sock and placed it on the nose of an evil terrorist – Boy oh Boy would that evil terrorist spill the beans.

Even beans he didn’t know about.

Think of it compadre – would YOU like an infestation of these little critters on the end of your conk? Thought not!

The technique was invented by Colonel Jock “McJock” Bollocks who headed up the deep cover Fungal Foot Fighting Force. Jock once took out an Iraqi machine gun nest armed only with a can of Athlete’s Foot spray and a belief in the redemptive qualities of Jesus Christ.

Legend or loon – you decide!

Now in civvy street when I go to the local baths for a swim, I think of all my little verucca chums nestling around the pool’s edge waiting to be called to defend our freedoms.

Thank you  Colonel Bollocks.

 

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Imagine you are a Roman Legionnaire fighting the Barbarian hordes (Gauls, Picts, Vandals or Visigoth – take your pick).

Imagine the Legionnaire to your right, let’s call him Sextus Quintus Marinadus, is felled by a Barbarian’s mighty twin headed axe.

“What vegetable should replace Sextus Quintus Marinadus in the shield wall?

GFB has the answer! Our opinion poll (below) shows what vegetable people would want alongside them in battle. As to be expected root and tubas triumph over brassicas and squashes.

Fascinating.

“Dic Nihil Tandem Est” as old Sextus Quintus Marinadus may have said.

We asked Professor of Cobblerology at the University of Erewash, Professor Aubrey Lunge for his thoughts on the shock findings, ” I could have sworn more people would have said runner beans. Where’s the bar?”

 

chart12 copy

 

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Sargent_Stench_MctavishHello,

As ex-special forces I know about adapting to my surroundings through disguise and aromatherapy.

My account of life as a Jihadist in Syria called, “But Syriaously” was published this week. Here is an extract from Chapter 5, ” Cheese Waits For No Man.”

“Over 120 in the shade. The Lethal Force Action Group were struggling. Prickle Heat had laid Al-Fungus Thompson out and I could see that Al-Jellytits O’Loon was beginning to wilt.

Food supplies were running low, forcing us to suck each others toes for fluid. Thompson’s bunions were off putting at first, but when you are desperate……….

……………………………..Finally, after days of searching we came across the ammo dump. Here sat the Druze Militia Warlord and his evil henchmen,  fiddling with Rubik’s cubes whilst discussing the relative merits of sheep, goat or cow’s cheese. Preparations were being made for a Fondue party. I love Fondue.

I could smell cheese. A ripe, cheesy odour that reminded me of home – cheese on toast for tea on Sundays. In less hostile times I would have told these evil WARLORDS OF DEATH how a splash of Worcester Sauce really complements cheese on toast. Sadly this was not the case. I was here to destroy the ground to air rockets my country had sold to them. In the name of peace.

From my ammo belt I broke out my emergency cheese supply and popped a lump onto my head. I inched my way toward the group.   The Big Lad stirring the Fondue saw me,  he was 6 foot tall and 6 foot wide with the hams of a god.

I had to think. Fast. On my feet. My field training helped.

“Aaaahhhh CHEESE!” I shouted and smiled.

“Sim Salabim! CHEEEEEEEESE!” he replied. I took the cheese off my head and motioned towards the fondue bowl.

“Sim Salabim! Dunk your cheese Offendi!”

I dunked my cheesy knob for a few moments before whipping it out and pasting it up the nostrils of the Big Lad.

“Aiieeeeeeee!” he cried – I managed to get my cheesy knob down his throat. Al-Jellytits O-Loon burst through the doors and made those evil henchmen eat lead.

We made off with the fondue set and had a wonderful night. It would have been nice to have some fruit to go with our cheese platter. There is something mystical about eating cheese and a selection of stoned fruits under the stars.

 

 

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Hello!

The marvellous Jamie Deedes asked to see a horse garlanded with a sausage.

You can find Jamie’s site  here  it is stunning.

We put our thinking caps on………Horses……….Famous Horses………Trojan Horse!

You’d have thought The Trojans would have smelled something fishy when this bad boy trundled through the city gates but apparently not.

troy copy

Beware Of Greeks Bearing Frankfurters

Even more so when Brad, strolling around as Achilles in the Turkey that was “Troy” wore a pork and herb sausage on his bonce for much of the film.

brad copy

Was The Sausage His Achilles Heel?

IS THERE ANYONE OR ANYTHING YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEE ADORNED BY A SAUSAGE?

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stool chart

How Would You Characterise Your Leaders Folks?

Hello,

Presidents Obama and Putin are  still at loggerheads over the need to lob a few missiles into Syria to tell off naughty President Assad and his mates for using chemical weapons.

putin obama_edited-2

The benefits of chucking a few missiles into Syria hasn’t been explained yet. But because there is no reason not to lob a few bombs at a dictator tucked away in his bunker and in all probability no longer in command of anything; FUCK IT! LAUNCH!

No doubt a few more innocent Syrians will die but, but Hey Ho! house prices are on the rise!

A CLEAR MESSAGE HAS BEEN SENT! WE HAVE ACTED!

The Stealth Sausage Bombers are primed and the Inter Continental Ballistic Sausages armed and locations fixed;

.stealth-bomber copysausage rocket_edited-2

Meanwhile, Prime Minister David Cameron, miffed at being unable to understand why Parliament did not vote to keep us up America’s back passage and so threatening his post Prime Ministerial career of the global lecture circuit and directorships of Multi-Nationals a la Tony Blair, has got the right hump with President “Putin” On The Rich for dismissing the UK as a small island everyone ignores.

 Tony-Blair  Tanks For The Memories Muammar

                 Peace Envoy My Arse

“What a bounder! He’s cost me a fortune,” The PM was heard saying as he queued for tea and sausage rolls at St Petersburg Bus Station, “Two words that’ll show we are still a Great nation – Morris Dancing!” And with a Hey Nonny Nonny, Nonny Hey Hey, David and the chaps pranced their way down St Petersburg High Street doing the famous “Cornish Toe Tap Tickle” and the strangely evocative  “Blackie Bladder Bounce”. So put that in yer pipe and smoke it you Russian slap headed Bastard!

morris1PM Cameron is Delighted"Keep Peddling Irrelevant"

What a load of Bollox!

Hi! My Name Is Ed Minibellend

jolson

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