In my time as an RAFVR(T) officer, one of the most efficient men I ever met was the Station FS at North Luffenham in 1991, a Northern Ireland gent whose name escapes me (Brian?) and who I believe may have gone to St Athan as SWO at a later point. If either the Annual Camp Commandant or I went to him with a problem, his immediate reply was "Sir, you do not have a problem; I have a problem". Always immaculate, legend had it that he had a different pair of shoes for each day of the week, more of which shortly. I have two overriding memories of him that week.
The Camp Comm and I were talking to him just inside a building entrance which overlooked the main drag to the JRM. An airman walked past with his hands in his pockets, not having seen said FS. "Excuse me sirs", said the FS at which point a roar was emitted at the unfortunate airman, who had no idea where the voice had come from. Cue arms and legs flying in all directions...
This FS had a distinct like for Asbach brandy and one of our "braver" instructors, an Adult Warrant Officer who was known for his ability to consume a few decided he was going to try to and out drink him. The next morning at 8.00am the FS appeared, not a hair out of place, shoes immaculate as always, ready for the day. Cue the appearance of a translucent AWO, barely in touch with reality, volunteering to do my turn as Duty Officer as he was on the fragile side of fragile. The Camp Comm, later to become OC Wing was less than impressed...
I've often wondered what happened to the FS as he was a top bloke.