I learned about listening to SNCOs from that...
A young Plt Off Qadoo, fresh out of Sleaford Tech has moved down the road to start BFT on the mighty JP5 and, as bad luck would have it, has drawn a Friday night for his first ever time as Orderly Officer.
One of the OO's jobs was to accompany the Orderly Sergeant and supervise the closing and chucking out from the Cranes' Club, so I toddled along to the guardroom at the appointed hour in order to meet up with him.
Now, the Orderly Sgt, being a wise old owl, gave me a brief not disimilar to the Pythons' Centurion & Pilate sketch and which went something along the lines of, "I really wouldn't if I were you, sir.... I know what it says in your orders, but please take my advice and leave it to me, if the lads catch sight of you, well...."
I didn't reply, "Weally, Sergeant, I'm surprised that you let yourself be wattled by a wabble of wowdy webels," but it wasn't far off and the results weren't dissimilar either. As soon as I hove into view outside the club, the inevitable abuse and catcalls from not very sober junior airmen began and the enormity of my stupidity began to sink in, so I retreated as bravely as I could to the shadows, whereupon an extremely attractive young SACW made her way over to me.
Charming, polite and seemingly not drunk, she apologised on behalf of her nasty rude colleagues and we got chatting. Being far too green and unsuspecting, I never even suspected I was being wound up, and it wasn't until she suggested rather loudly that we go back to her room in the block, proposing a series of activities that I didn't even know were physically possible, let alone legal, that my courage finally failed and I fled the scene as fast as my legs would carry me, accompanied by a barrage of laughter and derision from her oppos who'd been standing just out of sight.
Bless his cotton socks, the following morning during the OO handover, the Orderly Sgt didn't say a word...he didn't need to.