Morning Corporal, there’s been a right old bally-hoo here since last report old boy. Barely know where to begin. Do I start with the explosions, the insurgents, or Miss Perivale’s sexual fantasies or…?
Well at least it solved the riddle of Carruthers live shells. Let me explain old boy. After the last report when Carruthers had a bit of a funny turn involving the vicars wife and a coffin the General instigated a bit of an investigation into the goings on with Carruthers et al. MP’s running all over the place; when one of them was in the chapel of rest looking for he knew not what, he stood back to get a breather from his labours and lent against the row of supposedly empty coffins stood end up in the corner. Well he lent a little too hard and the whole bloody lot came tumbling down knocking the lids off many of them and gave himself the fright of his life! There in two of them was a large quantity of all kinds of munitions and in a third was the recumbent corpse of the very late sergeant Green from no. 2 platoon, whose complexion was now starting to live up to his name. Nothing strange in finding a body in a coffin in a chapel of rest you may be saying, except that he has been dead and buried for a month; at least that’s what everyone thought including his wife who has been tending his grave since the funeral! As for the munitions, well that did strike the MP as a little strange, he’s not the brightest button on parade you understand. Of course the two big questions needing to be answered were, if he was now looking at Sergeant Green, resplendent in full uniform, then who was in the coffin at the bottom of the grave where Sergeant Green had been rumoured to be laying at rest and how on earth did two coffins become so heavily laden with so much ammunition?
The General ordered an exhumation of the grave and at the bewitching hour two luckless privates were despatched to the graveyard with a tent and two shovels, the General declined to take part himself citing a long established appointment at his gentlemen’s club and nothing at all to do with the rumour flying around the barracks that he was scared of whatever may have been lying at the bottom of that grave. Well our two intrepid privates, after an age taken erecting the tent over the grave, started to dig. The soil being still loose from the burial, it didn’t take long to expose the coffin in question and feeling well deserving of a quick break they climbed out of the hole and lent against the grave stone for a cigarette. After trying their best to scare each other with ghostly stories they were about to resume their labours when one of them lent a bit too hard on the stone and dislodged it. The stone tumbled into the grave and smashed the top of the coffin revealing yet more ammunition however the vibration of the stone falling was having a very profound effect not only on the bowels of the two hapless privates, but on the trigger mechanism of one of the shells inside the coffin. What followed will be the talk of the village pub when the lamplights start to flicker for a good time to come I can tell you! It would appear that someone had been pilfering munitions for some time and burying it in coffins in the graveyard. Time will tell who and why, I’m sure! The first shell exploded with a mighty ‘Wump’ and that triggered other shells buried in surrounding graves and they triggered others. It was like some war film with explosions going off all around, body parts from the few coffins that actually did contain what was intended were flying all around and our two intrepid privates trying to dodge the flack as they made their bid for safety trying desperately not to put too much strain on their anal sphincter for fear of leakage! When daylight dawned Carruthers has two ‘flatmates’ in his tank all gibbering about the shadows and the graveyard looks a bit like the Somme after the battle with shell craters and bodies laying all around.
Miss Perivale lives just the other side of the grave yard from the church and is known locally as a sexually predatory spinster of some fifty years with more facial hair than a Sikh. Still rumoured to be untouched, if she takes her virginity to the grave with her it will not be for the want of trying! On the night in question she had left her washing on the line and the late Reverend Bloomfeldt having been disturbed from his eternal slumber a little earlier than I guess he had anticipated found that his knee and arm joints were not as connected as they were when last seen in the light of day and with the aid of the force from the explosion of a 4inch shell found his right hand flying through the air only to become lodged in the waistband of Miss Perivale’s not so small, smalls. Those of an unkind yet truthful disposition have remarked that he is the first man to have his hand in her knickers and others who can remember him have also remarked that she is the first woman to have allowed him that pleasure.
Anyhow Corporal, need to go! Have to organise a repatriation party to try and match arms and legs with their owners and then with the grave to which they belong.
Got any duct tape Corporal, may come in handy!
Over and out!
Sunday, 18 December 2011
29th October
Good afternoon Corporal!
Been keeping my head down a bit after the last report old boy, Ringbotham has been on the warpath good and proper. The good thing is he has been so hell bent on finding people to make this ruddy concert party work that he seems to have forgotten what caused the little fiasco in the first place and has left me well alone. Carstairs has finally got what he wants and can walk around quite openly in a frock telling any who question his appearance that he is dealing with concert party business. Although I’ll be damned if I can remember the last time I have seen him in the correct uniform, but it’s a braver man than I, who will say anything around here I can tell you.
Speaking of brave men, the Vicar and Mrs. Peabody; Mr. Peabody has gone back to his desk at Whitehall and not been seen since that little incident when he was chasing the Vicar round the garden and the Vicar now seems to spend his time flitting between the vicarage and Peabody Towers. No-one realised he has a wife at home until she became suspicious about the number of parishioners who were dying and their loved ones who needed his consoling at all times of the day and night and yet there were no funerals at the church! She decided that she would follow him one night and that nearly proved her undoing. Carruthers has been coerced away from that ruddy tank of his by putting him in civvies and giving him the job as the camp undertaker and the night the vicar’s wife followed him was probably about the only genuine call-out the vicar had been on for months. The Generals mother-in-law had passed peacefully in her sleep and the Vicar was consoling the Generals wife and the Vicar’s wife was bent down at the front door peeping through the keyhole when Carruthers arrives with a coffin balanced precariously on his shoulder carrying it up the garden path. When he arrived at the door he didn’t see the good lady on her knees and hit her on the back of the head with his coffin. She lurched forward and hit the front of her head on the door which had the two fold effect of knocking her out and opening the door as she lurched through and laid herself out on the hallway carpet. Carruthers meanwhile, had placed the coffin on the floor and realised that there was a body on the hallway carpet, assumed that was to be his cargo for the evening and loaded the recumbent Vicar’s wife into the coffin and then into the back of his van. The Vicar meanwhile is becoming a little flustered at Carruthers apparent lateness to remove the Generals mother in laws body because the Generals wife is becoming a little too welcoming of the Vicars consoling attentions. He couldn’t be too sure but at one point when she laid her head on his shoulder he was sure he could feel her tongue in his ear.
Carruthers meanwhile, had taken his collecting coffin back to the chapel of rest and was busy preparing the not so late Vicar’s wife for her funeral robes. When he had got her half undressed she woke up and sat bolt upright in the coffin. Carruthers assuming that she was some kind of zombie coming to get him, passed out on the spot and the Vicars wife, assuming that she was being raped by some devil worshipper, stood up in the coffin which was not designed for bodies standing up in it, and toppled the whole lot to the ground knocking herself out for the second time that evening! She finished up lying on top of Carruthers and the open coffin on the floor beside them both; when Carruthers came round, all his senses where telling him that he had a flesh eating Zombie lying on top of him about to take a big bite out of his neck. He stood up and ran out
of the chapel of rest screaming and ran straight back to his ruddy tank again and was last seen gibbering about Dracula and vampires. In his efforts to escape he had deposited the Vicar’s wife back in the coffin and the lid had fallen shut on top of her.
Meanwhile the Vicar, in search of reason to escape the suspiciously prying tongue of the Generals wife had gone back to the chapel to find Carruthers. When he got there, unable to find the poor fellow, he loaded the collecting coffin into the van and took it all off back to the Generals. He placed the coffin on to the trolley and wheeled it into the Generals house. When the Vicar lifted the lid to place the Generals mother in law in, his own wife had woken again and sat up straight in the coffin. The Vicar passed out with fright, as did the Generals wife and the Vicars wife, convincing herself that as the Vicar was lying under the prone Generals wife she had caught him out good and proper and promptly had an attack of the vapors and passed out again falling back into the coffin with the lid closing back on top of her. When the General returned he found one coffin, full; one mother in law, dead; and the Vicar and his own wife lying on top of each other, out cold.
It caused a right old rumpus I can tell you.
Over and out Corporal.
Been keeping my head down a bit after the last report old boy, Ringbotham has been on the warpath good and proper. The good thing is he has been so hell bent on finding people to make this ruddy concert party work that he seems to have forgotten what caused the little fiasco in the first place and has left me well alone. Carstairs has finally got what he wants and can walk around quite openly in a frock telling any who question his appearance that he is dealing with concert party business. Although I’ll be damned if I can remember the last time I have seen him in the correct uniform, but it’s a braver man than I, who will say anything around here I can tell you.
Speaking of brave men, the Vicar and Mrs. Peabody; Mr. Peabody has gone back to his desk at Whitehall and not been seen since that little incident when he was chasing the Vicar round the garden and the Vicar now seems to spend his time flitting between the vicarage and Peabody Towers. No-one realised he has a wife at home until she became suspicious about the number of parishioners who were dying and their loved ones who needed his consoling at all times of the day and night and yet there were no funerals at the church! She decided that she would follow him one night and that nearly proved her undoing. Carruthers has been coerced away from that ruddy tank of his by putting him in civvies and giving him the job as the camp undertaker and the night the vicar’s wife followed him was probably about the only genuine call-out the vicar had been on for months. The Generals mother-in-law had passed peacefully in her sleep and the Vicar was consoling the Generals wife and the Vicar’s wife was bent down at the front door peeping through the keyhole when Carruthers arrives with a coffin balanced precariously on his shoulder carrying it up the garden path. When he arrived at the door he didn’t see the good lady on her knees and hit her on the back of the head with his coffin. She lurched forward and hit the front of her head on the door which had the two fold effect of knocking her out and opening the door as she lurched through and laid herself out on the hallway carpet. Carruthers meanwhile, had placed the coffin on the floor and realised that there was a body on the hallway carpet, assumed that was to be his cargo for the evening and loaded the recumbent Vicar’s wife into the coffin and then into the back of his van. The Vicar meanwhile is becoming a little flustered at Carruthers apparent lateness to remove the Generals mother in laws body because the Generals wife is becoming a little too welcoming of the Vicars consoling attentions. He couldn’t be too sure but at one point when she laid her head on his shoulder he was sure he could feel her tongue in his ear.
Carruthers meanwhile, had taken his collecting coffin back to the chapel of rest and was busy preparing the not so late Vicar’s wife for her funeral robes. When he had got her half undressed she woke up and sat bolt upright in the coffin. Carruthers assuming that she was some kind of zombie coming to get him, passed out on the spot and the Vicars wife, assuming that she was being raped by some devil worshipper, stood up in the coffin which was not designed for bodies standing up in it, and toppled the whole lot to the ground knocking herself out for the second time that evening! She finished up lying on top of Carruthers and the open coffin on the floor beside them both; when Carruthers came round, all his senses where telling him that he had a flesh eating Zombie lying on top of him about to take a big bite out of his neck. He stood up and ran out
of the chapel of rest screaming and ran straight back to his ruddy tank again and was last seen gibbering about Dracula and vampires. In his efforts to escape he had deposited the Vicar’s wife back in the coffin and the lid had fallen shut on top of her.
Meanwhile the Vicar, in search of reason to escape the suspiciously prying tongue of the Generals wife had gone back to the chapel to find Carruthers. When he got there, unable to find the poor fellow, he loaded the collecting coffin into the van and took it all off back to the Generals. He placed the coffin on to the trolley and wheeled it into the Generals house. When the Vicar lifted the lid to place the Generals mother in law in, his own wife had woken again and sat up straight in the coffin. The Vicar passed out with fright, as did the Generals wife and the Vicars wife, convincing herself that as the Vicar was lying under the prone Generals wife she had caught him out good and proper and promptly had an attack of the vapors and passed out again falling back into the coffin with the lid closing back on top of her. When the General returned he found one coffin, full; one mother in law, dead; and the Vicar and his own wife lying on top of each other, out cold.
It caused a right old rumpus I can tell you.
Over and out Corporal.
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
22nd October
Morning Corporal,
Bit of a time lag since last entry old boy, had to keep the head down, you know how it is.
Got a bit squiffy myself the other night, one too many brandies in the officer’s mess. When I say one too I probably mean one two, as in twelve to be precise! Got talking to the general and his batman and let it slip about old Carstairs and Major Ringbotham, the general was incensed at the prospect of two gays living in camp! Kept ranting on about sexual proclivities and debauchery. Particularly when he realised that Carstairs was the one he had moved after trying to take advantage of his widowed daughter. You know how it is when you’ve had the odd one over the eight, the mind is saying shut up and the mouth is in full swing.
The following morning, Carstairs and Ringbotham were marched up to the Generals office by two sniggering MP’s. Somehow they managed to convince the General that the reason for them spending so much time together and for Carstairs apparent delectation for female clothes was that they were working on putting together an entertainment troupe for the chaps. The General fell for it hook line and sinker and told them of my own little indiscretion the previous night which left Ringbotham in a right foul bate and he’s been on the warpath looking for me ever since. The real problem for them is that now they have got to come up with the goods and produce something that resembles an entertainment party. They tried to get Carruthers away from that tank to join them, we were all hoping they would manage it as the far side of camp has become a bit of a war zone now that Carruthers tank has an engine. After the last time he took it for a little foray the three new Landrovers the vehicle pool had just taken delivery of were all left with a tank track mark right up the middle and the wheels leaning out at a rather jaunty angle. They nearly managed to get Carruthers away from the thing and the MPs were waiting to go in and remove the batteries and starter when Carruthers heard they were planning on getting him to dress as a woman. He must have had some recollection of that terrible incident down at the NAAFI which led to his rather precarious mental stability; as soon as he saw the dress he ran back into the tank shouting random profanities at anyone and everyone and tried to fire another of those blank shells. Well the barrel was still blocked from the wadding of the previous one, and there then followed one hell of a bang and the whole tank disappeared as smoke exuded from every part of it. When the smoke cleared, the barrel of the tank was peeled back like a banana on all sides, all the doors and traps were blown off their hinges and a smoke blackened Carruthers was sitting on what was left of the turret, sucking his thumb and calling for ‘mummy’.
Need to go old boy, I can hear Ringbotham and Carstairs approaching and I don’t think they are feeling any better disposed towards me yet so I need to make myself scarce. I say, you don’t fancy dressing as a woman and singing Lilly Marlene on a stage do you? Be awfully helpful if you did, I think it might take the sting out of the situation.
Bit of a rum do all round I say!
Over and out.
Bit of a time lag since last entry old boy, had to keep the head down, you know how it is.
Got a bit squiffy myself the other night, one too many brandies in the officer’s mess. When I say one too I probably mean one two, as in twelve to be precise! Got talking to the general and his batman and let it slip about old Carstairs and Major Ringbotham, the general was incensed at the prospect of two gays living in camp! Kept ranting on about sexual proclivities and debauchery. Particularly when he realised that Carstairs was the one he had moved after trying to take advantage of his widowed daughter. You know how it is when you’ve had the odd one over the eight, the mind is saying shut up and the mouth is in full swing.
The following morning, Carstairs and Ringbotham were marched up to the Generals office by two sniggering MP’s. Somehow they managed to convince the General that the reason for them spending so much time together and for Carstairs apparent delectation for female clothes was that they were working on putting together an entertainment troupe for the chaps. The General fell for it hook line and sinker and told them of my own little indiscretion the previous night which left Ringbotham in a right foul bate and he’s been on the warpath looking for me ever since. The real problem for them is that now they have got to come up with the goods and produce something that resembles an entertainment party. They tried to get Carruthers away from that tank to join them, we were all hoping they would manage it as the far side of camp has become a bit of a war zone now that Carruthers tank has an engine. After the last time he took it for a little foray the three new Landrovers the vehicle pool had just taken delivery of were all left with a tank track mark right up the middle and the wheels leaning out at a rather jaunty angle. They nearly managed to get Carruthers away from the thing and the MPs were waiting to go in and remove the batteries and starter when Carruthers heard they were planning on getting him to dress as a woman. He must have had some recollection of that terrible incident down at the NAAFI which led to his rather precarious mental stability; as soon as he saw the dress he ran back into the tank shouting random profanities at anyone and everyone and tried to fire another of those blank shells. Well the barrel was still blocked from the wadding of the previous one, and there then followed one hell of a bang and the whole tank disappeared as smoke exuded from every part of it. When the smoke cleared, the barrel of the tank was peeled back like a banana on all sides, all the doors and traps were blown off their hinges and a smoke blackened Carruthers was sitting on what was left of the turret, sucking his thumb and calling for ‘mummy’.
Need to go old boy, I can hear Ringbotham and Carstairs approaching and I don’t think they are feeling any better disposed towards me yet so I need to make myself scarce. I say, you don’t fancy dressing as a woman and singing Lilly Marlene on a stage do you? Be awfully helpful if you did, I think it might take the sting out of the situation.
Bit of a rum do all round I say!
Over and out.
15th October
Morning Corporal,
Dashed poor show last weekend, what! Should have got Carruthers and his little harem down there to bolster numbers. The tailor down at the QM stores last week thought he had a poltergeist in his work room, every time his back was turned his tailors’ dummies kept moving around. Poor fellow was becoming quite agitated, particularly when one of them threw itself at him late one evening. The medics were called to try and quieten the poor fellow down, when they lifted the dummy off him he sat up and realised that the other four dummies were now missing, complete with the uniforms that were on them that he had been working on. Three WRAC privates and one sergeant. The General was convinced that gerry was stealing them as disguises for some covert infiltration of the ranks, and it took a rather long phone call from the General to convince him that the Germans haven’t been a serious threat for some time. After getting sergeant Foot in from the military police to ‘survey the crime scene’, (I really think that lot watch too much television you know), at great length they announced the results of their findings in a scene straight out of that Hitchcock film. They had established that Carruthers had been hiding in one of the dummies and had stolen the one he was in and three others because he liked the uniforms! Anyway, Sergeant Foot, or Foot of the Yard as he likes to be referred to, managed to track the culprit back to the old
tanks, it seems Carruthers has got fed up with being a tree and is back in one of the tanks only this one has taken on an altogether more sinister prospect, this one has both engine and tracks! He’s got all the dummies lined up ‘on parade’ and was ‘inspecting’ them. Well no one was feeling brave enough to go down there and get them back if Carruthers is armed and now mobile as well! Foot of the Yard went nervously towards the tank and asked in the most authoritative voice he could muster, which to be honest sounded little better than a five year old trembling in front of a teacher on his first day at school, if he could please have his dummies back. Carruthers let fly with one of those blanks he has got hold of, (no one is sure how many he has left), I then realised exactly why that tank was left up there. The barrel is blocked! One hell of a lot of smoke came from everywhere but no wadding came out of the barrel! One just has to hope that they can talk Carruthers down from there before he feels the need to fire another one! Foot of the Yard just stood there and wet himself when the shell was fired and was last seen running for his car. Carruthers is now smitten with his entire little harem and has carried them with him wherever he goes. Bit of a rum do all round I say, what?
Dashed poor show last weekend, what! Should have got Carruthers and his little harem down there to bolster numbers. The tailor down at the QM stores last week thought he had a poltergeist in his work room, every time his back was turned his tailors’ dummies kept moving around. Poor fellow was becoming quite agitated, particularly when one of them threw itself at him late one evening. The medics were called to try and quieten the poor fellow down, when they lifted the dummy off him he sat up and realised that the other four dummies were now missing, complete with the uniforms that were on them that he had been working on. Three WRAC privates and one sergeant. The General was convinced that gerry was stealing them as disguises for some covert infiltration of the ranks, and it took a rather long phone call from the General to convince him that the Germans haven’t been a serious threat for some time. After getting sergeant Foot in from the military police to ‘survey the crime scene’, (I really think that lot watch too much television you know), at great length they announced the results of their findings in a scene straight out of that Hitchcock film. They had established that Carruthers had been hiding in one of the dummies and had stolen the one he was in and three others because he liked the uniforms! Anyway, Sergeant Foot, or Foot of the Yard as he likes to be referred to, managed to track the culprit back to the old
tanks, it seems Carruthers has got fed up with being a tree and is back in one of the tanks only this one has taken on an altogether more sinister prospect, this one has both engine and tracks! He’s got all the dummies lined up ‘on parade’ and was ‘inspecting’ them. Well no one was feeling brave enough to go down there and get them back if Carruthers is armed and now mobile as well! Foot of the Yard went nervously towards the tank and asked in the most authoritative voice he could muster, which to be honest sounded little better than a five year old trembling in front of a teacher on his first day at school, if he could please have his dummies back. Carruthers let fly with one of those blanks he has got hold of, (no one is sure how many he has left), I then realised exactly why that tank was left up there. The barrel is blocked! One hell of a lot of smoke came from everywhere but no wadding came out of the barrel! One just has to hope that they can talk Carruthers down from there before he feels the need to fire another one! Foot of the Yard just stood there and wet himself when the shell was fired and was last seen running for his car. Carruthers is now smitten with his entire little harem and has carried them with him wherever he goes. Bit of a rum do all round I say, what?
Thursday, 24 November 2011
8th October
Morning Corporal,
Much against popular belief it is now quite obvious to all that there is actually a Mr. Peabody. Seems the dear fellow works away a lot at the foreign office, well the story of Mrs. Peabody’s little display had got that far, aided by an opportune photographer who happened to be taking pictures for Ned the gardener at the time. The old chap was entering some of his prize blooms for the flower show next week and wanted to capture some of them for posterity, well when the shutter clicked all he got was a posterior! The photographer soon had them developed and were posted all over the officers mess. Some ne’er do well decided to post one of the copies to his mate in Whitehall who happened to be on the next desk to Mr. Peabody. Poor fellow got the shock of his life! Although how exactly he recognised her underneath the vicar and covered in dust and debris I’ll be damned if I knew at the time. He was straight on the train to come back and ‘have it out with the Vicar’. Well it developed into a right old farce after that, worthy of a good script if you ask me. He caught the Vicar and Mrs Peabody at another inopportune moment. Imagine the picture if you will, the Vicar running through the gardens at the vicarage cassocks and robes flowing out behind him clutching his bible. Mr. Peabody, one hand on his head to keep his bowler firmly in place, the other clutching tightly his umbrella like a native with a spear and Mrs. Peabody, her housecoat unbuttoned to the waist, her naked ample bosom doing their best to blacken both her eyes as she chased after Mr. Peabody trying to prevent world war three. Carruthers was just running around touching anyone he could get close to and shouting ‘you’re it’! Mrs. Peabody’s daughter was sat on the steps to the conservatory to get the best view whooping with delight and shouting ‘go Dad go’ at the top of her voice.
Well eventually everything died down, Mr Peabody felt sure he could feel his old hernia coming back, the Vicar fell over his cassock and Mrs. Peabody fell over and is now suffering from whiplash and concussion. Not from the fall you understand, from the effect of being battered by her ample naked breasts as she had been running after her husband. Carruthers ran off into the wood and was last heard shouting ‘I’m ready, come and find me’ from the inside of that hollow tree. Well, it turned out in the end that Mr. Peabody was not so concerned about his wife as he was the fact that him and the Vicar had for some years been having a little dalliance with a couple of choir boys and the Vicar had called it all off when he found someone else. Mr. Peabody had taken it all quite badly and had buried himself into his work in London awaiting the return of the Vicars affections. When the photograph turned up on his colleague’s desk it was not his wife that he recognised but the Vicar’s arse. Carruthers has now moved out of the tank and is living in the hollow tree and can be seen most mornings stood on top of it saying, ‘I’m a tree, I’m a tree!’ At least the milkman can now have his engine for his float re-fitted and we can all have our milk delivered again.
Got to go Corporal, cup of char is called for.
Over and out.
Much against popular belief it is now quite obvious to all that there is actually a Mr. Peabody. Seems the dear fellow works away a lot at the foreign office, well the story of Mrs. Peabody’s little display had got that far, aided by an opportune photographer who happened to be taking pictures for Ned the gardener at the time. The old chap was entering some of his prize blooms for the flower show next week and wanted to capture some of them for posterity, well when the shutter clicked all he got was a posterior! The photographer soon had them developed and were posted all over the officers mess. Some ne’er do well decided to post one of the copies to his mate in Whitehall who happened to be on the next desk to Mr. Peabody. Poor fellow got the shock of his life! Although how exactly he recognised her underneath the vicar and covered in dust and debris I’ll be damned if I knew at the time. He was straight on the train to come back and ‘have it out with the Vicar’. Well it developed into a right old farce after that, worthy of a good script if you ask me. He caught the Vicar and Mrs Peabody at another inopportune moment. Imagine the picture if you will, the Vicar running through the gardens at the vicarage cassocks and robes flowing out behind him clutching his bible. Mr. Peabody, one hand on his head to keep his bowler firmly in place, the other clutching tightly his umbrella like a native with a spear and Mrs. Peabody, her housecoat unbuttoned to the waist, her naked ample bosom doing their best to blacken both her eyes as she chased after Mr. Peabody trying to prevent world war three. Carruthers was just running around touching anyone he could get close to and shouting ‘you’re it’! Mrs. Peabody’s daughter was sat on the steps to the conservatory to get the best view whooping with delight and shouting ‘go Dad go’ at the top of her voice.
Well eventually everything died down, Mr Peabody felt sure he could feel his old hernia coming back, the Vicar fell over his cassock and Mrs. Peabody fell over and is now suffering from whiplash and concussion. Not from the fall you understand, from the effect of being battered by her ample naked breasts as she had been running after her husband. Carruthers ran off into the wood and was last heard shouting ‘I’m ready, come and find me’ from the inside of that hollow tree. Well, it turned out in the end that Mr. Peabody was not so concerned about his wife as he was the fact that him and the Vicar had for some years been having a little dalliance with a couple of choir boys and the Vicar had called it all off when he found someone else. Mr. Peabody had taken it all quite badly and had buried himself into his work in London awaiting the return of the Vicars affections. When the photograph turned up on his colleague’s desk it was not his wife that he recognised but the Vicar’s arse. Carruthers has now moved out of the tank and is living in the hollow tree and can be seen most mornings stood on top of it saying, ‘I’m a tree, I’m a tree!’ At least the milkman can now have his engine for his float re-fitted and we can all have our milk delivered again.
Got to go Corporal, cup of char is called for.
Over and out.
1st October
Morning Corporal,
Carruthers clutch of eggs have all hatched out now and he is strutting around the back of the parade ground with a dozen little yellow chicks following him. He managed to negotiate with the doctors to allow him to keep the eggs after his little episode in the chicken coup and he took them down to the tank and hatched them all out down there. Mighty peculiar business if you ask me.
Speaking of peculiar businesses, Carstairs and Ringbotham, Carstairs has got himself posted as Ringbotham’s batman and seems far too at home in a floral apron and feather duster to me. He saw Ringbotham off to the office yesterday with a wave of what appeared to be a lace handkerchief from what I could see of it. I can’t help but think that there is something rather unhealthy going on there!
I think the mystery of the new engine in Carruthers mobile home has been solved, no-one has been getting any milk this week and everyone was blaming the milkman’s little dalliance with Mrs. Peabody’s daughter for his inactivity. Eventually the sergeant was sent to find out the cause of the problem and give him a piece of his mind. When he got down to the dairy he found the milkman stood in the empty engine bay of his milk float, scratching his head. It is only circumstantial at the moment as nobody can get near Carruthers and that ruddy tank to find out. He was bad enough before, but now with a brood of chicks to protect he is firing those blank shells at anyone who comes near. Bit of a rumpus the other day, when he got hold of a live one! Carruthers thought that the General was getting too close to his chicks and let loose a shell, well not only has the car got no sides, it has no boot now either; although the General has taken to calling it a trunk, of course. But fortunately for the General the shell didn’t go off; however it did go off when it came to rest against the end wall of the garage where Mrs. Peabody keeps her car. There is now no uncertainty at all about whether there is anything going on between the vicar and the good lady. The garage completely disappeared and revealed Mrs. Peabody spread across the bonnet of her convertible wearing little but a smile, and the vicar spread across her, although he did still have his dog collar on! It gave Ned the gardener quite a turn; he is eighty if he’s a day and deaf as a post! He was on his knees tending the border at the back of the garage when the incident occurred, of course he didn’t hear a thing but when he looked up after the garage had disappeared, all he could see was the vicar’s bare arse bobbing up and down! He thought it was the sunflower in full bloom to start with, although given the shape and colour of the vicar’s legs I can understand the mistake.
Anyway Corporal, must dash, I think I can hear Carruthers trying to start the tank again. Always best to keep a low profile when that engine starts up I find, just in case he has found another live shell.
Over and out Corporal.
Carruthers clutch of eggs have all hatched out now and he is strutting around the back of the parade ground with a dozen little yellow chicks following him. He managed to negotiate with the doctors to allow him to keep the eggs after his little episode in the chicken coup and he took them down to the tank and hatched them all out down there. Mighty peculiar business if you ask me.
Speaking of peculiar businesses, Carstairs and Ringbotham, Carstairs has got himself posted as Ringbotham’s batman and seems far too at home in a floral apron and feather duster to me. He saw Ringbotham off to the office yesterday with a wave of what appeared to be a lace handkerchief from what I could see of it. I can’t help but think that there is something rather unhealthy going on there!
I think the mystery of the new engine in Carruthers mobile home has been solved, no-one has been getting any milk this week and everyone was blaming the milkman’s little dalliance with Mrs. Peabody’s daughter for his inactivity. Eventually the sergeant was sent to find out the cause of the problem and give him a piece of his mind. When he got down to the dairy he found the milkman stood in the empty engine bay of his milk float, scratching his head. It is only circumstantial at the moment as nobody can get near Carruthers and that ruddy tank to find out. He was bad enough before, but now with a brood of chicks to protect he is firing those blank shells at anyone who comes near. Bit of a rumpus the other day, when he got hold of a live one! Carruthers thought that the General was getting too close to his chicks and let loose a shell, well not only has the car got no sides, it has no boot now either; although the General has taken to calling it a trunk, of course. But fortunately for the General the shell didn’t go off; however it did go off when it came to rest against the end wall of the garage where Mrs. Peabody keeps her car. There is now no uncertainty at all about whether there is anything going on between the vicar and the good lady. The garage completely disappeared and revealed Mrs. Peabody spread across the bonnet of her convertible wearing little but a smile, and the vicar spread across her, although he did still have his dog collar on! It gave Ned the gardener quite a turn; he is eighty if he’s a day and deaf as a post! He was on his knees tending the border at the back of the garage when the incident occurred, of course he didn’t hear a thing but when he looked up after the garage had disappeared, all he could see was the vicar’s bare arse bobbing up and down! He thought it was the sunflower in full bloom to start with, although given the shape and colour of the vicar’s legs I can understand the mistake.
Anyway Corporal, must dash, I think I can hear Carruthers trying to start the tank again. Always best to keep a low profile when that engine starts up I find, just in case he has found another live shell.
Over and out Corporal.
Saturday, 5 November 2011
24th September
I say Corporal bit of a rum old do with Carruthers, what? He’d managed to get that old tank he’d taken to living in running again, heaven only knows how, last I knew Carstairs had sold the engine to some of the lads in the village and convinced them they could fit it into their old Fordson Major! Top marks for ingenuity I say, they got it in, or more accurately, on the tractor and entered it into the ploughing championship on the estate. They were the talk of the competition; they had four ploughs and bolted them all together, sixteen furrows wide it was! Well they went through once and took up half the field but when they got to the other end darn thing wouldn’t stop! It went straight through the hedge and over the vicars bicycle narrowly missed Mrs. Peabody’s convertible, (I’m beginning to suspect that there’s a rum do developing there I can tell you!) through the car park and ploughed into the side of the General’s car and didn’t stop till it ran out of fuel outside the beer tent. But he managed to turn a lovely straight furrow. Sorry, I digress, Carruthers, he’d managed to find something to get the old tank to run with, I suspect that time will tell us from where. Anyway when the General sent the psychiatrist and his lovely little assistant nurse down to see him and try and talk him down, the good doctor got out of his ambulance and walked towards the tank and Carruthers saw the straight jacket lurking behind his back and turned the turret and fired one of those blank shells at him. Blank or not the wadding made one hell of a hole in the front of the ambulance and lodged itself under the seat between the nurse’s legs. Poor girl passed out with fright! Rumour has it that when they got to her she did have a big smile on her face and was moaning loudly! The MP’s were sent in and dragged him off to the sanitarium shouting loudly about the shadows coming to get him.
Carstairs on the other hand hasn’t been seen at the barracks since he got back from his AWOL episode, always on parade though! Rumour has it that he has moved in with Major Ringbotham and Carstairs has been seen dressed as a woman walking round the park on a Sunday afternoon on Ringbotham’s arm! I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation but I’ll be damned if I can see what it would be!
Since the vicars bicycle was trashed down at the ploughing championships he is being driven everywhere by Mrs. Peabody who he has taken to calling ‘Margie Wargie’! If her father were alive today he would have something to say about it I can tell you. He always seemed to have an unhealthy affection for his daughter if you ask me and always kept any of the chaps away from her and was known on one occasion to chase a much younger Carruthers out of his potting shed with a pitchfork and a twelve bore. It seems that from the potting shed window you could see straight into the young lady’s bedroom.
It would seem also that the General was quite taken with his staff car with one side missing, he had the other one removed and drives around speaking with a decidedly dodgy American accent smoking a big cigar and his Generals hat is now more on the side of his head than it is on the top.
Anyway Corporal, need to go and help remove Carruthers from the chicken coup, someone left his door open last night and he got out. No one realised it until four o’clock this morning when he started crowing. The real rooster was quite put out as Carruthers was better at it than he was!
Tally ho! Over and out.
Carstairs on the other hand hasn’t been seen at the barracks since he got back from his AWOL episode, always on parade though! Rumour has it that he has moved in with Major Ringbotham and Carstairs has been seen dressed as a woman walking round the park on a Sunday afternoon on Ringbotham’s arm! I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation but I’ll be damned if I can see what it would be!
Since the vicars bicycle was trashed down at the ploughing championships he is being driven everywhere by Mrs. Peabody who he has taken to calling ‘Margie Wargie’! If her father were alive today he would have something to say about it I can tell you. He always seemed to have an unhealthy affection for his daughter if you ask me and always kept any of the chaps away from her and was known on one occasion to chase a much younger Carruthers out of his potting shed with a pitchfork and a twelve bore. It seems that from the potting shed window you could see straight into the young lady’s bedroom.
It would seem also that the General was quite taken with his staff car with one side missing, he had the other one removed and drives around speaking with a decidedly dodgy American accent smoking a big cigar and his Generals hat is now more on the side of his head than it is on the top.
Anyway Corporal, need to go and help remove Carruthers from the chicken coup, someone left his door open last night and he got out. No one realised it until four o’clock this morning when he started crowing. The real rooster was quite put out as Carruthers was better at it than he was!
Tally ho! Over and out.
17th September
Bit of a twist in the tail for Carruthers and Carstairs this week Corporal. Carstairs returned to camp early in the week, some say they have seen the blighter wearing makeup! He was marched by the MP chaps at the guard room straight up to Major Ringbotham for being absent without leave, who gave him a right old roasting I can tell you. I could hear it from the other end of the corridor at my own office, although when it came to the matter of the make-up, Ringbotham seemed far too curious if you ask me. Never did trust the bounder after the choir master’s wife filed for divorce. She couldn’t actually name the other woman, but the description of a burly build with a pronounced grey moustache certainly didn’t fit any of the totty around here that I have met. Even Mary at the Dog and Duck doesn’t have a grey moustache although her build could perhaps be described as burly. Some of the chaps are suggesting that Ringbotham’s swagger stick is more of a mincing stick when he is on parade.
Carruthers eventually emerged looking rather sheepish from the back of the old wrecker behind the parade ground and had even stopped gibbering…and then the Generals wife caught up with him. What a fearsome lady! I wonder sometimes whether she should be the general and allow the general to stay at home and tend the plants. Anyway, Carruthers is living in the back of the wrecker now and barking at anyone who gets close. Even tried sending that little hottie from the NAFFI down wearing some of that cheap perfume she uses. Well, normally Carruthers would have been in there like a shot. She said he was standing on the turrets of an old tank with a patch on one eye and one hand inside his jacket shouting ‘stand by to repel boarders’!
Still the good news is that the heat from the fire has brought the general’s wife’s tomato plants on a good four inches in a week!
Carruthers eventually emerged looking rather sheepish from the back of the old wrecker behind the parade ground and had even stopped gibbering…and then the Generals wife caught up with him. What a fearsome lady! I wonder sometimes whether she should be the general and allow the general to stay at home and tend the plants. Anyway, Carruthers is living in the back of the wrecker now and barking at anyone who gets close. Even tried sending that little hottie from the NAFFI down wearing some of that cheap perfume she uses. Well, normally Carruthers would have been in there like a shot. She said he was standing on the turrets of an old tank with a patch on one eye and one hand inside his jacket shouting ‘stand by to repel boarders’!
Still the good news is that the heat from the fire has brought the general’s wife’s tomato plants on a good four inches in a week!
Sunday, 16 October 2011
10th September
Right old stink since last report old boy; it seems it was Carruthers who had bought up all the weekly rag. Seems the blighter had taken them all down to the allotments to try and dispose of the ‘evidence’. He decided to light a small bonfire behind a potting shed which turned out to be the general’s wife’s; right next to her compost heap. Silly arse hadn’t looked to see what the last thing was that the fearsome lady had deposited on there. Turns out old boy that she had been cutting all the dead shoots from last years herbaceous border and it only took one spark and the whole bloody heap was ablaze! Well that soon spread to the potting shed itself and then the wooden fence running up the side of the allotments, before he could do anything about it the large garage with the general’s staff car, six tanks, three lorries, four small Landrovers and the vicar’s bicycle was well alight. No-one’s quite sure what the vicars bicycle was doing in there but we think it may have been something to do with Mrs. Peabody, she’s been seen coming and going at the vicarage at some very strange times of the day and night. She has her convertible car in the next garage and that was missing at the time. Bit of skullduggery there I feel! The fire crew turned up and started spraying water in all places and put his original bonfire out before the papers had had a chance to burn! Of course some bright spark happened to notice the picture on the front page and now the pictures are on every notice board on camp! Down at the bottom end of the camp where the road bends sharply around the sergeants mess; going away from camp the ‘bend’ sign has been painted with the words ‘not bloody likely’ and the other way the sign has ‘Carruthers, ridden again!’ Carruthers was last seen in the fetal position in the back of one of those wreckers parked behind the parade ground gibbering about mummy so the story goes. No one’s seen Carstairs since, damned poor show I say.
Field telephone is ringing corporal, need to go, over and out.
Field telephone is ringing corporal, need to go, over and out.
3rd Septmember
Speaking of Carruthers bout of old syph, took a bit of a twist the other day, talk of the officers mess it was! Well, you remember how I told you that Carruthers was a bit quiet for a few days before the film at the NAAFI? Well, turns out that the chaps in the mess had got old Carstairs just a bit drunk one night and Caruthers even more so. Carruthers doesn’t remember bugger all about it, which is quite an appropriate turn of phrase given the circumstances! In a drunken state the chaps managed to convince old Carstairs that the new barmaid in the NAAFI bar that everyone has been going on about had got the hots for him in a big way and she was waiting for him in the cellar. Of course there are no lights down there! Managed to convince him that as she had got the painters in she would take it up the arse! Well Carruthers had been suitably prepared and left down there and then enter Carstairs, in more ways than one! Too pissed to tell any different he was just about to hit the vinegar stroke when on went all the torches, and cameras were everywhere. Carruthers was convinced that his piles were playing up again the following morning and has been buying all the pile ointment he could put his hands on until this morning, well, it’s all over the camp newspaper! Carruthers hasn’t been seen since; although rumour has it that the shortage of the camp rag is due to the fact that he has bought them all up and he may be responsible for the fire down at the General’s wife’s garden potting shed. Carstairs can’t work out why everyone is walking funny when they pass him. Bit of a rum do all round I’d say!
Any how old boy gotta go. Need to organise the re-building party for the potting shed.
Any how old boy gotta go. Need to organise the re-building party for the potting shed.
27th August
Corporal Cock-up, good morning old boy.
Just checking in to make sure that the Saturday night sortie to the bunker is still a goer. Speaking of goer’s reminds me of the time when old Spotty Carruthers got himself caught up with that little hottie from the driving pool, she wouldn’t leave him alone! Mind you I don’t think she could leave any of them alone to be fair, different one every night so the story goes, just don’t tell the wife, eh? Old Carruthers was a little quiet for a while after that, until they had that film in the NAAFI cinema, some bright spark got the wrong end of the stick completely and billed it as “See Phyllis in Technicolour”! Well most of the chaps went along thinking they were going to see a film about some actress called Phyllis, got the shock of their lives! There were some very ashen faces coming out of there that night and the queue for the medic was much longer than normal the following morning, Carruthers was right at the front wearing his trench coat with the collar turned up, hoping no-one would notice him. The nurse on duty that morning had a voice like a foghorn and the medics were right next to the junior school and all the kids and their mums were all stood there listening to the noise! Be nice to know exactly how they explained that away at the tea table that night! At least it kept Carruthers nocturnal carnal activity to an absolute minimum for a while and the young girls of the
Just checking in to make sure that the Saturday night sortie to the bunker is still a goer. Speaking of goer’s reminds me of the time when old Spotty Carruthers got himself caught up with that little hottie from the driving pool, she wouldn’t leave him alone! Mind you I don’t think she could leave any of them alone to be fair, different one every night so the story goes, just don’t tell the wife, eh? Old Carruthers was a little quiet for a while after that, until they had that film in the NAAFI cinema, some bright spark got the wrong end of the stick completely and billed it as “See Phyllis in Technicolour”! Well most of the chaps went along thinking they were going to see a film about some actress called Phyllis, got the shock of their lives! There were some very ashen faces coming out of there that night and the queue for the medic was much longer than normal the following morning, Carruthers was right at the front wearing his trench coat with the collar turned up, hoping no-one would notice him. The nurse on duty that morning had a voice like a foghorn and the medics were right next to the junior school and all the kids and their mums were all stood there listening to the noise! Be nice to know exactly how they explained that away at the tea table that night! At least it kept Carruthers nocturnal carnal activity to an absolute minimum for a while and the young girls of the
20th August
20th August
Corporal MacCockup more like, the poor girl was devastated at being missed orf your previous missive old boy. Caruthers is orf down there now to comfort her and console her. You know, I can’t help but wonder why he was so keen to miss out on a quick sortie and buzz a few Gerry before morning coffee, rather strange that, I’m sure he must feel in some way responsible for your omission.
Now Corporal, to business! A bit of bunker work you say, now just checking on the old diary reveals one or two nasty stains on the page, is that anything to do with you? Damned near stuck the pages together! This weekend, old chap, appears to be taken with paternal duties so there’s a bit of an impasse on that one I’m afraid old boy. Now next week, on the Friday I have a funeral to attend in Essex, if it’s mine then no-one’s told me yet but I don’t know what time I will be home. Saturday is looking likely at the moment, so bookings taken for that one if required. Going to have to go old boy the Colonel is approaching and he looks to be in a frightful stew over something. Perhaps the cling film over the lavatory wheeze was a bit misplaced after it turned out that Carstairs had already laced the blighters breakfast with laxative.
Got to go old boy; need to make myself scarce. You know how it is.
Corporal MacCockup more like, the poor girl was devastated at being missed orf your previous missive old boy. Caruthers is orf down there now to comfort her and console her. You know, I can’t help but wonder why he was so keen to miss out on a quick sortie and buzz a few Gerry before morning coffee, rather strange that, I’m sure he must feel in some way responsible for your omission.
Now Corporal, to business! A bit of bunker work you say, now just checking on the old diary reveals one or two nasty stains on the page, is that anything to do with you? Damned near stuck the pages together! This weekend, old chap, appears to be taken with paternal duties so there’s a bit of an impasse on that one I’m afraid old boy. Now next week, on the Friday I have a funeral to attend in Essex, if it’s mine then no-one’s told me yet but I don’t know what time I will be home. Saturday is looking likely at the moment, so bookings taken for that one if required. Going to have to go old boy the Colonel is approaching and he looks to be in a frightful stew over something. Perhaps the cling film over the lavatory wheeze was a bit misplaced after it turned out that Carstairs had already laced the blighters breakfast with laxative.
Got to go old boy; need to make myself scarce. You know how it is.
13th August
Corporal you’ll never get your promotion if you carry on like this! With blunders like Friday night in the NAAFI bar you really should have started higher up the chain of command,
Reminds me of old Carstairs you know, he couldn’t have organised a tea party in Boston! Every morning he used to take one of the little jeep things the Yanks had left behind and drive down to the village for his morning paper, if the weather was fine he would walk back and next morning would take another jeep. He couldn’t understand where they were all going as slowly one by one they were all disappearing, kept blaming the tinkers camped behind the squadron HQ so he had them moved on, but still the pool was getting fewer in number. Then he started blaming the home guard, called them a bunch of amateurs and when they denied it he tried to have the platoon disbanded. Would have done too if it weren’t for the Colonel’s daughter, but that’s another story. Shan’t divulge here old boy in case the wife sees this! Anyway, as the car park at the paper shop got ever fuller he assumed that the bloody yanks were there visiting the newsagent’s widow. Feeling a bit randy one morning he tried to take advantage of the poor woman believing that if he tipped her a few shillings she may have been a little morecompliant, given his rank and all. What the blighter didn’t realise was that the dear lady was also the daughter of the General at HQ. The very next day he was moved to a desk job in Whitehall somewhere. Left in charge of naval operations in Scapa Flow towards the end of the war I believe. Caused a right old ballyhoo there, the Gerry fleet were coming over to surrender, and, well, the old spin doctors had a right old headache trying to come up with a plausible story to release to the press about that one!
Now, Carruthers arse! What a story that one has turned out to be, in a manner of speaking! Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, eh? After the incident with the very large small boy at the lido he was put under surveillance by the military police. What a revelation that turned out to be! No one was quite able to explain why half the junior class had the same strange auburn hair and that same facial tic. It seems the bounder was single handedly responsible for the midwife’s breakdown due to over work. The General suggested that if he perhaps had only been using a single hand he might not have been in the trouble he now found himself.
Anyway corporal, incoming, need to put the blackout curtains across the window.
Tally ho!
Reminds me of old Carstairs you know, he couldn’t have organised a tea party in Boston! Every morning he used to take one of the little jeep things the Yanks had left behind and drive down to the village for his morning paper, if the weather was fine he would walk back and next morning would take another jeep. He couldn’t understand where they were all going as slowly one by one they were all disappearing, kept blaming the tinkers camped behind the squadron HQ so he had them moved on, but still the pool was getting fewer in number. Then he started blaming the home guard, called them a bunch of amateurs and when they denied it he tried to have the platoon disbanded. Would have done too if it weren’t for the Colonel’s daughter, but that’s another story. Shan’t divulge here old boy in case the wife sees this! Anyway, as the car park at the paper shop got ever fuller he assumed that the bloody yanks were there visiting the newsagent’s widow. Feeling a bit randy one morning he tried to take advantage of the poor woman believing that if he tipped her a few shillings she may have been a little morecompliant, given his rank and all. What the blighter didn’t realise was that the dear lady was also the daughter of the General at HQ. The very next day he was moved to a desk job in Whitehall somewhere. Left in charge of naval operations in Scapa Flow towards the end of the war I believe. Caused a right old ballyhoo there, the Gerry fleet were coming over to surrender, and, well, the old spin doctors had a right old headache trying to come up with a plausible story to release to the press about that one!
Now, Carruthers arse! What a story that one has turned out to be, in a manner of speaking! Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, eh? After the incident with the very large small boy at the lido he was put under surveillance by the military police. What a revelation that turned out to be! No one was quite able to explain why half the junior class had the same strange auburn hair and that same facial tic. It seems the bounder was single handedly responsible for the midwife’s breakdown due to over work. The General suggested that if he perhaps had only been using a single hand he might not have been in the trouble he now found himself.
Anyway corporal, incoming, need to put the blackout curtains across the window.
Tally ho!
6th August
6th August
Ah yes, Caruthers, bit of a cock up on the cock up front the other day, silly arse leapt into the cockpit being one over the eight, missed his footing, his foot went straight through the side of the canvas fuselage and the joy stick…. Well I don’t think we shall be seeing the end of that again for a while.
Last I saw of him he was wandering around the NAAFI trying to buy up all the rubber rings he could find. In the end he tried to pinch one from some little kid down at the lido. Trouble was the kid wasn’t as little as he thought he was and stood up and gave him one almighty great push and he fell backwards, straight on his rather tender undercarriage. He let out such a long and loud howl that the old squadron leader thought there was an air raid warning. Dashed bad luck I say!
Ah yes, Caruthers, bit of a cock up on the cock up front the other day, silly arse leapt into the cockpit being one over the eight, missed his footing, his foot went straight through the side of the canvas fuselage and the joy stick…. Well I don’t think we shall be seeing the end of that again for a while.
Last I saw of him he was wandering around the NAAFI trying to buy up all the rubber rings he could find. In the end he tried to pinch one from some little kid down at the lido. Trouble was the kid wasn’t as little as he thought he was and stood up and gave him one almighty great push and he fell backwards, straight on his rather tender undercarriage. He let out such a long and loud howl that the old squadron leader thought there was an air raid warning. Dashed bad luck I say!
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