Monday, 10 October 2011

I've Never Been In The Army But The Armies Been In Me



What I love most about my wonderful life is knowing that the possibilities of me finding myself in a ridiculous location in any part of the world are a distinct possibility. Just this morning I’ve woke to my find myself in the Falkland Islands with a bitch of a hangover and slightly bizarre flash backs from the night before.
I have to say that I’ve been pleasantly surprised whilst down here; any homophobic comments I thought I’d get from the butch troops simply don’t exist. In fact it seems the troops love a Queen to attend they’re room parties, keeping me suitably lubricated whilst in attendance.
Last night in particular was one of the funniest nights I’ve had in along time. After picking up a phone and shouting code word ‘Timmy,' myself and the rest of the crew were whisked off to an old aircraft hanger for a piss up. It was here I fell in love with a 23 year old squadie built like a brick shit house but with the soft charming features of the boy next door. Let us call him Smithy, as that’s his name.
After getting suitably shit faced on a few bottles of wine I found myself back in Smithy’s room having a party with ten other squadies. You can’t buy wine by the glass here, a fact that horrified me as I’m sure you’ll agree, I don’t like to participate in binge drinking, well not without class As.
Unfortunately Smithy was to disappear for a few hours; perhaps it was the sight of a desperate queen salivating whilst poking his washboard stomach that sent him scarpering. Either way I was left in the company of a man who for some unknown reason took pleasure in telling the room he had the smallest cock in the world. And after he decided to get it out and give us all a flash, I have to say, yes, it quite possibly could have been.
This was then followed by a man who confessed to having the biggest cock in the world, and yes you guessed it, he decided to whip it out and show me, and I have to confess I have seen bigger, although I didn’t want to rain on his parade so I congratulated him just before passing out.

I did come back round shortly after I heard Smithy’s voice inviting me out for a cigarette. I quickly jumped to my feet and followed him out the building. After hopelessly flirting with this butch heterosexual bloke he humored me by showing me a picture of his penis on his phone. Realizing that was the best offer I was going to get that evening, I swaggered off back to my room with a smile on my face and an even more pissed colleague who had decided that wearing her bra on the outside of her top was the latest fashion trend somewhere in-between her first sambucca and last slippery nipple.
As you can imagine I feel suitably disgraced after last night and feel the need to scrub my self clean in the communal showers, now, where did I put that soap…..
Part Two
Well despite me grabbing my soap at the end of my last post and leaving a trial of lubricant to the men’s showers not one squaddie followed me in. I did wait a couple of hours, and I would have stayed longer but I got soap in my downstairs eye and had to leave immediately. I’m beginning to think the tube of Sudocrem I bought on the way out was a waste of money.
Anyway, finishing with the Falklands for the week I boarded our coach to the airport to fly our delicious troops back to Ascension Island. Walking through the terminal building, I use the word terminal loosely, I was greeted by our ground agent who saw fit to tell me I made an arse out of myself the night before, he said I was more entertaining than offensive but he felt very sorry for the Penguin. I have no idea what he meant but I did wonder what the funny taste in my mouth was.
I do remember walking into the toilets and being shocked, yet slightly delighted at three army boys stood around in a circle with the pants around their ankles. They were playing helicopters with their dicks together. I tell you; cocks are like buses, nothing for months then three cum at once.
Landing into Ascension Island on Saturday afternoon I had just enough time to lever myself into my tightest hot-pants before hitting the local club, Two Boats. Now someone should have phoned ahead and warned them to put their ridiculous low prices up to prevent self-inflicted alcohol poisoning, sadly no one did. As a result I downed several shots of Slippery Nipple and woke up on the beach rimming a giant turtle. I can only assume that after 14 Pimms and lemonade that I thought it was the for mentioned Smithy.
Unfortunately I do have to dash, I’m off to the American Air Force base this evening for drinks in their bar so I might pop in a Glade Plug-In just incase.  I am also eagerly waiting the arriving of the new Air Italy crew. I’ve always wanted to bag myself a stallion. Now, where did I put the veet…….
Confessions Of An Army Queen Part 3
A lovely time was had by all when drinking at the American Air Force base on the island known as Ascension, best known amongst fellow crew members as Fragle Rock. After sampling the house cocktail, Mudslide, one lost all inhibitions, well there really is no other excuse as to why I would put my lips on a female’s and kiss passionately. One feels disgusting and has been in the shower every day since scrubbing myself with bleach and a Brillo pad.
As you all know by now I like to make an entrance, well in this case it was more of a return, a return to my accommodation that is, in the back of a police car. Apparently it’s against the law to try and squeeze 8 people in a Ford Ka for a lift home. The police lady was very nice, after a little rendition of ‘I am what I am,’ I think she thought I had bigger issues than simply squeezing into an over filled car and she promptly gave me a lift home. She even offered to come and get me again if I was stranded, probably something to do with the fact I’d almost drank a full bottle of Jack Daniels at this time and had just started to lick the windows. My request to borrow her truncheon went completely over her head.
After a little eight-hour flight back to the Falklands, encountering the most horrendous turbulence I’ve ever had; I almost spilt my Jack Daniels, I went straight out to meet my public. It was on this night out that I thought it was hilarious to call a contractor built like a brick shit house and could quite honestly kill me with his little thumb my daddy bitch. Surprisingly he didn’t seem to mind, I think they all thought I was the evenings’ entertainment. To be fair, the state I was in, I probably was.
I do remember a remark from a female who wasn’t to impressed with my comments, I do however remember her being extremely ugly and having no personality. I’m also 100% sure when she turned round I could see the word PRIMARK on her top label which, don’t get me wrong it a was lovely top, if not just two sizes too small.
Now despite my many attempts to bag myself a squaddie I’m still without one, there are actually no gays within 8000km, I know this for a fact as my Grindr told me so.  Well no out gay guys anyway, I’m sure some of them could be turned after a drink or six.  I’ve certainly been shown a few choppers whilst drinking in the helicopter pilot’s bar. One even made my eyes water. It was pierced. Now where did I put that rohypnol……..

Part 4.
As you all know I like a drink but I am in fact now in fear that my liver is going to give up any minute. This is of course due to the price of the vodka down here in the Falklands. With vodkas at 22p in the Nafi bar you can get pissed on two pound. Although, I think that 22p is taking the piss a little bit, two weeks ago it was only 19p. I blame New Labour.
Now I truly believed that there would be no way of me outdoing myself in the humiliation stakes, especially after that unfortunate experience with the sea urchin; those pricks were stuck in my cheeks for days, however it turned out I was wrong. My friends will tell you I never drink vodka, it does something funny to me that sends me more psychopathic than a Z list celebrity on a reality tv show, mentioning no names, Vanessa Feltz.
Now I’m not sure if it was all the testosterone in the air from the suqadies that made me go a little loopy, or the fact that despite me waiting patiently in the showers for six hours for an unsuspecting squaddie to turn up I’d left disappointed and more shriveled up than Geri Halliwell’s showbiz career. So, I decided to take things into my own hands, literally.
Downing half a bottle of Malibu I thought the appropriate course of action was to pull my senior’s pants down before rubbing his cock.  I wouldn’t call this a particular satisfying sexual experience, would you? This took place just shortly before I had vodka spat in my face and just after I’d vomited from smoking too many fags. The conclusion meant I was still moist but not perhaps in the way I would have liked. It also left me with the niggling feeling that my p46 could be shoved under my cell door at any moment.
Fortunately this happened two days ago and I’m still without my p46, actually, I have just received my roster telling me that I will be down here in the Falklands for some time to come. Maybe I’m in line for a promotion? Hopefully they’ll be lots of activities, such as the game soggy biscuit (please google for the rules).
I would like to say that I learnt from my intoxicated experience, however this morning I woke up with vomit in my sink and a very scared looking penguin in my room, again.