The SAR King has been offered two overseas trips. One to a hot and dusty clime, requiring lots of spare undies, or G'zunders as our Glaswegian brethren would say.
The second is a trip up north to the dreaded civilian types.
Both options holds terrible consequences for Crab. (Or quincequonces as the late Spike Milligan was fond of saying). In both cases his eyes would be opened, in the former his eyes would be co-ordinated with a darker orifice.
The book is open. I bet he doesn't avail himself of either offer; preferring to remain behind with his trusty dog, and labrador.
