In the forces at Christmas we used to make bars (of the beer drinking kind) and then the best was judged bt the CO Commanding Officer of the base.
So at Episkopi on the last of the christmas days, the CO does his competition inspection and judges that the Spanish Galleon bar woz best,
so orft we all jolly well heads and downs gallons of Keo beer on gallons of local brandy, (you have to remember that all barrack blocks are built in a similar style btw)
so after many of all the drinky type things, imagine my disgust at findin that summwun is in my bed, by this time its 4 am and Im slightly p155ed
so after a five minute struggle, I kick the barsteward outta my bed.
so a good nights kip followed
When I finally woke, imagine my disgust to find that my room had been repainted and theyve moved my locker around.
Oh and then the shame and realisation set in
I woz in the right bed, right room, right floor but two blocks from mine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
no wunder he put up such a fight
Oh well that woz in 1968 or woz it 1969, time just flies, dont it.
I'll never ferget but fergin hell, wot a c*ck up
Mind you, best christmas I had EVER
rgds
mort (tryin to find his own bed)
and this is very true