CORNER SHOPS: ONCE A SOURCE
OF LINGORIAN NATIONAL PRIDE
‘Wun-sek’ as I believe they called
themselves bunkered up in a Lingorian
corner shop. Ironic that the national
stereotype (next to shit brothels) of
Lingorian progress and pride was now
occupied
by
their
former
Commonwealth protectors. Wun-sek
stayed to SOP and smashed the till open.
I can’t say how much they took, but
apparently it was enough for a night of
“wheelbarrow racing” at Madame Lola’s.
The corner shop is an internationally
recognised symbol of Lingorian culture,
as much as John Bull, and his Bulldog or
the Lion are to Britain. Readers may
recall the incident at the 1973 World
Cup qualifiers against Pakistan where
Lingor were awarded 3 corners in the
first half and built shops on them all
before the opposition could. The game
ended in turmoil with a 0-0 draw.
SMOKE SIGNALS
Excitement! At last, bullets and brownadrenaline flowed as ‘Wun-sek’ went in.
About then every NCO in Christendom
with a grenade launcher smoked the
target with every colour of smoke in the
rainbow. It sure was pretty, and the
troops reassured me it was meaningless
as no one had said anything during the
briefing about what it meant. I was told I
was in the airborne corps but it seems
more like the peace corps!
FUCK ME!
Those arseholes at HQ had also failed to
mention the tanks that now faced us.
They probably saw the rainbow and
came looking. We did what the British
army does in these situations. We
stopped and brewed up.
PUBIC AIR
The RAF were called for high priority airstrike on the enemy tanks. Message
back, “Flight are fucked off somewhere
doing some training”. Thanks a bundle.
Unruly mutterings and words worse
than fuck and cunt were used. With all
the timings of a pubescent teenager
asked to clear their room, the
‘Brylcreem penguins’ finally arrived: as
we were securing the hostile area the
hard way. Smith won the race.
ENDGAME
We moved ahead, taking a sustained
and ‘area effective’ sarcasm attack from
the lads we went. “We keep the
cynicism for R&R” I was told. It’s nice to
see that standards are high as always in
the airborne. This is a story without end.
Today here in Corazon, tomorrow some
other war zone. Tonight the syphilis
ridden fleshpots of the southern resorts
await.
I was sorry not to have seen a school bus
explode in a hail of AK47 fire as it’s
nearly Christmas. But, tomorrow is
another day and this campaign, like the
road back from VD will be a long and
joyless one.
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