Post by Frenchie on Apr 18, 2009 14:26:05 GMT 1
On the weekend before a major exercise in HK, some of 2 platoon decided to make a whole weekend of it out in the Wan chai red light district. By sunset on the Friday night the wheels were well oiled and Kingo's were doing the usual rounds of the bars and clubs.
While walking along Hennessey Road it was duly noted that one of their number was significantly more 'well oiled' than the rest. - 'out of the game' comes to mind.
Never one's for missing a good crack, his 'mates' spotted an old slapper sitting on the steps calling out the usual "Hey Johnny....you want blo% jo#"
This 'working girl' was, to say the least, well past her prime. In fact, she did look like she would have been past her prime about 30 years previously, but hey, having no teeth could be a bonus in some professions.
This 'well oiled' Kingo - I really can't mention any names right here - seemed just right for her to all of the other Kingo's so he was gently encouraged and even guided into the 'establishment' where due process was embarked upon.
9 to 21 days later (it was actually around 9 but who's counting) the exercise was well under way when this Kingo decided he would just have to go sick.
The Regimental doctor back then (forget his name) was a little, shall we say eccentric, and didn't actually like getting too close to 'common' Kingo's so the short arm inspection was carried out from outside of the draw curtains of the med cubicle with just the doctor's head poking through the screen (god forbid he might actually have to touch any mostly hidden away parts of a Kingo).
The Kingo in question, who had been insisting from the first moment of the onset of messy symptoms that he had 'caught a cold' and needed some aspirin, once again asserted this opinion to the doctors disembodied head, which seemed to be floating just inside the curtains about six foot from the floor.
The doctor sniffed haughtily raised his eyes to the ceiling as the Kingo leaned back onto the examination couch with the short arm in question in full, dribbling view.
"Hmmm", the Doc offered. " I'll tell you what Kingsman, we'll give it 30 seconds more, and if it doesn't sneeze, we'll call it a dose!"
I don't know which was worse - us, having to see the exercise through, or the out anonymous Kingo suffering the nasty course of injections considered necessary to cure STD's back then.
While walking along Hennessey Road it was duly noted that one of their number was significantly more 'well oiled' than the rest. - 'out of the game' comes to mind.
Never one's for missing a good crack, his 'mates' spotted an old slapper sitting on the steps calling out the usual "Hey Johnny....you want blo% jo#"
This 'working girl' was, to say the least, well past her prime. In fact, she did look like she would have been past her prime about 30 years previously, but hey, having no teeth could be a bonus in some professions.
This 'well oiled' Kingo - I really can't mention any names right here - seemed just right for her to all of the other Kingo's so he was gently encouraged and even guided into the 'establishment' where due process was embarked upon.
9 to 21 days later (it was actually around 9 but who's counting) the exercise was well under way when this Kingo decided he would just have to go sick.
The Regimental doctor back then (forget his name) was a little, shall we say eccentric, and didn't actually like getting too close to 'common' Kingo's so the short arm inspection was carried out from outside of the draw curtains of the med cubicle with just the doctor's head poking through the screen (god forbid he might actually have to touch any mostly hidden away parts of a Kingo).
The Kingo in question, who had been insisting from the first moment of the onset of messy symptoms that he had 'caught a cold' and needed some aspirin, once again asserted this opinion to the doctors disembodied head, which seemed to be floating just inside the curtains about six foot from the floor.
The doctor sniffed haughtily raised his eyes to the ceiling as the Kingo leaned back onto the examination couch with the short arm in question in full, dribbling view.
"Hmmm", the Doc offered. " I'll tell you what Kingsman, we'll give it 30 seconds more, and if it doesn't sneeze, we'll call it a dose!"
I don't know which was worse - us, having to see the exercise through, or the out anonymous Kingo suffering the nasty course of injections considered necessary to cure STD's back then.