OK, you've asked for it. This is a Senior Service version of the same.
Picture the scene....
Midshipmen on parade training at BRNC Dartmouth.
CPO Blaine, none other, is inspecting the platoon. Stops before one particular officer under training and looks upward towards the sky. (CPO Blaine was about 5ft 2 inches tall - and wide. The OUT in question was about 6ft4)
An unconventional opening gambit had the poor OUT unsettled from moment one...
"Did you have breakfast this morning, Mr Bloggs?"
"??????WTF???" pause "Er, yes, Chief"
"Did you eat all your breakfast, Mr Bloggs"
"??????WTF???" pause "Er, yes, Chief"
"I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOU LYING TO ME, MR BLOGGS!" CPO Blaine bellowed.
"????WTF????" pause "Er, but, er, Chief, I'm not lying to you...???"
"IF YOU ATE ALL YOUR BREAKFAST HOW COME SOME OF IT IS STICKING TO YOUR TIE, SIR???"
Or the predecessor of the wonderful Colour Sergeant RM who taught my course drill but hadn't learned to control his frustrations...
One morning (at BRNC) he was drilling a squad of what we used to call "internationals" who were renowned for their hopeless uncoordination on parade...
Being a decent Bootie he just wasn't adjusted to this sort of shambles and allowed the pressure to get to him. At the end of the period the bell went signifying three - or was it five minutes for OUTs to get to their next assignment.
Clr Sgt Bootneck kept them at it to ensure they would learn a lesson by being late and get a bollocking from their next class.
As he marched and countermarched this ticktocking shambles about the parade ground a WREN trainee was passing, arms full of books, around the ramps of the parade ground and as any human being would laughed out loud at the antics of the "international" fools .
This flipped the poor Clr Sgt. He called his squad to a halt, turned and bellowed at the WREN in his biggest parade-ground voice,
" I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE LAUGHNG AT MA'AM, YOU'VE ONLY GOT ONE C*** TO LOOK AFTER, I'VE GOT A WHOLE SQUAD OF THEM!"
Inevitably the Commander's window was open, the Jimmy at his desk... The poor Clr Sgt made a brief appearance before that desk and was off the station within the hour. What a waste!
Also---(a second hand story that might be - nay!, ought to be true. I don't know but it was related to me in all seriousness)
A young thrusting helo pilot who was melanistically distinct from the rest of the squadron was aboard one of Her Majesties carriers and relaxing in the Wardroom with his oppos and reading the daily paper. A new sprog middie entered the compartment and proceeded to introduce himself around the room in a rather pompous manner to all present. It was perhaps not his fault that his daddy was an Admiral, but that didn't help. "Justin LeBlanc!" he intoned as he circulated the room, "Hello, I'm Justin LeBlanc!"
He reached our hero and had to stick his hand over the top of the paper, which was slowly lowered..."Hello, Justin LeBlanc" he asserted, and as the Telegraph was raised to its former position a disinterested voice was heard to say, "Hello, Stanford le Noir".
A further story which may or may not be true, but I for one believe it -
Said dark-skinned Officer came up through the hawse-hole, and the story goes that upon reporting to his first ship as a newly sprogged baby-sailor he was led to his new mess by the duty doggie who pointed his way down a hatchway to his mess. Our friend stuck his head down the hatchway and bellowed, "HEY, NUMBER THREE MESS, YOU GOT ANY N!GGERS IN THERE?????"
You can imagine the reaction...
At which he flung his kitbag down the hole, and leapt after it shouting "WELL YOU F******G HAVE NOW!!!"
He was one of nature's true Gentlemen. Still is, I believe.
Last edited by Agaricus bisporus; 1st May 2010 at 09:41.