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
Carruthers
About Me
- The Majors Diary
- The weekly diary of a post war major in the south of England detailing the exploits and accidents of one Lance Corporal Carruthers. A man who could, single handedly, undermine the allied attempts to defeat the German military might, destabilize the entire German empire and destroy the ruddie Ruskies by turning the cold war boiling hot. And all with the aid of an ageing tank and a certain level of genius in confusion.
Preface
Carruthers was born from a series of nonesense e-mails between me, the author and creator of Carruthers, known by some as Adrian and a good friend of mine who runs a hotel nearby.
I was in Devizes during one of the annual summer festivals, where otherwise sane people throw caution to the wind and do their very best to prove themselves cool and trendy, whilst appearing to the world as just another embarrassing fifty something who really ought to know better. (I speak with some authority in this matter as a permanently embarrassing fifty year old who refuses to grow up, according to my long suffering children!) When strains of jazz music were to be heard drifting up from a door to the cellars of the big hotel in the Market Place. Being surrounded by a cacophony of noise, the rythm and melody from just the one singer and band competing with nothing other than the cash register at the bar seemed a perfect way of escaping. Plus, the door into that cellar had always intrigued me! Having descended into the half light it appeared that the band, who until only a moment before had been singing their little hearts out, were now packing up and going home! Had they somehow heard of me before??? The cellar was to become the new live music venue in Devizes with only Jazz and Blues being played and with only bands of a certain calibre. Being a fan of live music generally and Jazz in particular and not unfamiliar with the workings of a bar from either side, I thought that to offer my services to the unsuspecting owner for the ‘odd shift’, (those describing themselves as normal obviously needed to attend other evenings) would be a good way of listening to decent music, getting cheap beer and getting paid for it! Result! He agreed and I began working every other weekend in The Cellar Bar, Devizes’ newest venue for good music. Being of a similar humour, the owner, Andrew, and I became friends and began communicating as Basil and Manuel in our e-mails although it does become quite hard to write with a Spanish accent! After a while I got bored with these two character and whilst trying to relieve that boredom Carruthers was born! What started out as sillyness gradually grew and Andrew encouraged me to save these e-mails, which I resisted at first but when I started getting enquiries from others who had recieved the forwarded e-mails I had sent to Andrew asking when the next one was coming out and asking if I would send them on to them direct, I began compiling the diaries. You will notice that the first few diary entries still resemble just an e-mail and then take on a very different purpose as I explore the deeper creative recesses of my mind. Any recess of my mind is terrifying, so steel yourselves and enjoy The Major’s Diary.
Adrian
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