I'm here, sort of . . .

Alright, I fucking know, I've been away for bloody ages. Well get a bastard grip, I've been busy ensuring that you moaning cunts can live in a relatively free society. Fuck me sideways, the things I do for you, eh?

On a side note, I'm entirely serious. I recently spent a week on a shitty exercise in the fucking arse-end of anywhere, carrying my own body weight in kit in ridiculous heat. Including eight hours spent lying in a nettle thicket waiting for an entirely imaginary "enemy" to pop by. Training my shitting arse.

Then I got in a world of shit for being "inconsiderate" to the feelings of the local populace when patrolling through a simulated enemy village. Considering we'd had reports of suspected suicide bombers in the market place I started shitting a simulated brick when a man broke off from the crowd and cycled towards me. Not being familiar with the local Pashto language, I improvised.
Apparently we're not allowed to shout "OI, FUCK OFF YOU PRICK." at Afghanis. Even ones who are paid a fortune to live over here to help deliver more realistic training.
It was so traumatic that I'm still recovering. In fact, only last weekend did I accidentally poo myself in a mates car. I say accidentally, I'm clearly incapable of making mistakes. It was an intentional self-poo'ing event brought on entirely by the rigours of my occupation.


In other news, you can completely ignore Ben when he says we should oust Maggie Thatcher from her existence. Old Mags is a fucking national treasure and should be reinstated without further ado. She'd sort the bastards out. Maggie liked nothing more than a good war and getting rid of the dross. No more free milk for kids? Boo-fucking-Hoo. If they're that desperate for milk they can get up half an hour earlier and raid a fucking cow.


Also, I'm not sure who this MC Lars character is, but I fucking well like his style. I'm sure there was deeper meaning to his song, some message that completely escaped me, there did seem to be a sarcastic element to it. Not to worry, I'll get that fucking brainbox Ben to explain it to me, over a curry, whilst I fight his Missus away from my Korma.

In other news, I've spent most of my time either working, being on duty or hiding in my shitty room, playing Street Fighter IV online. The vindictive bastards have forced me to pay for a TV licence, so I now join the masses in moaning about having to pay the BBC when their channels are bastard shit anyway.

Wait Out.