A rerun of a post from earlier days.
Late '70's at an 'aerodrome somewhere in England'.
The Boss (and I mean THE BOSS) was coming to make sure that we were looking after the aeroplanes and other bits and bobs she had loaned us.
The Staish thought it was time for his Other Buggers Efforts and so decided to put on a show. A Royal Guard of Honour came top in his list of bullsh*t.
Joe the SWO trawls the unit for blokes who were 6 feet tall (not 5'11", not 6'1", he wants an Other Buggers Efforts too) to make up the main cast of this performance.
Through an accident of birth, my oppo and myself satisfied Joe's requirements (and being a pair of prats by not hiding or limping ) we found ourselves on a shortlist of 2 to join Joe's Chorus Line.
Now, my oppo was (and still is) a bit of an imbiber of most things alcoholic (he draws the line at Toilet Duck), he also appreciates being allowed to gently enter the world of sobriety in the mornings, no sudden movements etc etc.
To his horror (and to the rest of us) Joe and the Staish decided upon practice, practice, practice weeks before the main event. To make matters worse, the practices were to take place at first sparrow's fart, so's not to deny us the pleasure of a full day at work afterwards.
Oppo did not take kindly to this. His personal time to recover from the reveries of the previous night were severely curtailed. His efforts at the rehearsals for Joe SWO's Royal Variety Performance were not good. His efforts at 'Present Arms' would have made Corporal (Dad's Army) Jones look like a Coldstream Guardsman.
Joe thought he was taking the pi$$, not realising that oppo was recovering from the pi$$.
Slowly it began to dawn on oppo, that perhaps to avoid more severe listening-to's and other threats from Joe and after all, it was for THE BOSS. (Oppo was a great fan of THE BOSS). that he should curtail his nightly intake and perhaps take up cocoa for the duration instead.
The transformation was dramatic!! A figure of immaculate military bearing arose from the ashes, the Staish smiled, Joe SWO smiled, even Joe's dog smiled. Sod the Other Buggers Efforts they thought, this means Knighthoods all round. Arise Sir Staish, Arise Sir Joe SWO. I swear you could see it in their eyes.
Come the final Full Dress Rehearsal. Brigade of Guards, QCS, b@llocks to the lot of you, nobody could beat us, we were good.
So good in fact that the Staish invited the members of the Royal Guard of Honour to have a small alcoholic refreshment (at his expense) to thank us for our efforts (oh, and also to put the fear of God up us just in case it went wrong).
After drinkies and associated small talk 'it's Ma'am as in ham, not Ma'am as in farm' etc served up by Mrs (soon to be Lady) Staish. We were sent on our way to prepare for the Main Event the following morning.
Oppo, now rather pleased with himself, full of military bearing (and two halves of Staish's beer) decides that a pleasant pre-Royal evening in the company of the NAAFI'S finest barmaids is perfectly in order. Thankfully, I had a prior engagement with the future Mrs Taxydual so had to decline his kind offer of an evening of fine wines and glistening conversation.
I imagine, gentle reader, you can guess the rest.
Come the morn, you have never seen anything like it. 6' of military bearing converted into a potato sack. There were no two pounds of him hanging straight. His breath would have killed small children. His eyes had to be seen to be believed. 'There's life, Jim, but not as we know it'.
It went steadily downhill from there on in.
The March-on he stumbled. The Royal Salute he fumbled.
Then the crowning glory. During the Inspection came a barely audible bubbling noise followed an odour of such grossness that no-one could miss it for what it was. Oppo had sh*t himself. The looks of horror on the faces of the great and the good was spectacular. As to THE BOSS, she didn't turn a hair and carried on if nothing had happened. She knew though, oh she knew. I saw, for a fleeting second the look in her face as she passed me. "Tommo's sh*t himself again".
Where are you Tommo? If the telling of this doesn't force you out of hiding, nothing will.