RAF Locking, 1983-ish
Newly posted in Chief-Tech wants to flex his muscles and larynx, so he orders a drill parade.
Duly formed-up sim-techs greet this with much enthusiasm.
After half-an-hours marching-up-and-down-a-bit the Chief realises we aren't really interested in this.
He launches into a tirade along the lines of "..You shower of sh***. I practise my drill every night and I press my trousers every night and I bull my shoes every night, blah, blah, blah..."
At which point a voice from the back says "I bet he drinks Carling Black Label", at which point the entire assembled mass descends into complete hysterical laughter, complete with dead-bug impersonations.
Stunned Chiefy is left open-mouthed and speechless as he thinks it's because of what he's said.
For some reason we never saw him again.