Squadron exchange in Germany, last night all ranks piss up. All the local brass sat at the top table, too many wobblies. One of the rigger corprals wanders up to our flight sergent (the munchkin) grabs his head in both hands and proceeds to stick his tongue down his throat. The G and T's were hitting the floor all over the place. The munch was speachless and Colin had just put his name forward for orderley dog for the next 12 Christmases.