63. Who Dares Whinnies.


“Now then, Scorcher. What’s that you’re reading?”
“How do, Lucifer. Just reading here in the paper about our boys.”
“Your boys? I didn’t know you had kids, Scorcher.”
“I don’t.”
“Oh. Well, what the fuck are you on about then?”
“Our boys. OUR BOYS! You know, them heroes fighting in Afghanistan! Brave soldiers, our boys.”
“I suppose so.”
“Suppose so? What’s all this ‘suppose so’ shit, Lucifer? You don’t sound very supportive of our boys! They’re out there fighting for your freedom, you know!”
“It just seems like another scrap over oil to me, Scorcher.”
“How dare you! HOW DARE YOU! These young lads, barely out of school, out there in the dust and sand, getting blown up by these O.M.D.’s…”
“I.E.D.’s.”
“What?”
“I.E.D.’s. Your boys keep getting blown up by I.E.D.’s.”
“Oh. Right. What does that stand for?”
“Improvised Explosive Device.”
“So what does O.M.D. stand for?”
“Orchestral Manoeuvers in the Dark. They were a band in the Eighties, Scorcher.”
“Were they? Never heard of ’em.”
“I think they became less popular after they started blowing up British troops.”
“Sound like a set of bastards to me. Sorry for snapping at you, Lucifer. I forget that civilians like you can’t really picture the horrors of war.”
“What, and you can?”
“I can, ‘cos I’ve been there, Lucifer.”
“Here we go…”
“Yeah, I’ve witnessed armed conflict at first hand, all over the world.”
“Come on then, Scorcher. Tell us where you’ve fought.”
“Everywhere… and nowhere… what you laughing at?”
“Nothing, nothing. What do you mean by ‘everywhere and nowhere’?”
“Well, my regiment saw action in all the major conflicts of the last sixty years, the world over, but officially we weren’t there. They were clementine operations what we were taking part in…”
“What? Little oranges? You fought battles all over the world, against little oranges?”
“What the fuck are you on about, Lucifer? What have oranges got to do with owt?”
“Clementines are little oranges, Scorcher.”
“Shit. I always get mixed up. What’s that word for secret stuff, sounds like little oranges?”
“Clandestine?”
“That’s it! I took part in clandestine operations with the regiment for fifteen years, I did. It were brutal, Lucifer. Hell!”
“Tell us some war stories then, Scorcher.”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t.”
“Why? Have you forgotten?”
“No! I remember it all like it were yesterday! The thing is, They made me sign the Official Secrets Act. I can’t say owt for a hundred years!”
“What are you going to do after that? Write a book?”
“Dunno. Maybe.”
“Go on, Scorcher. Give us a hint.”
“Well, let’s put it this way, do you know that film, Apocalypse Now?”
“Fuck off, Scorcher! You were never in Vietnam!”
“Didn’t say I was! Some of the scenes for Apocalypse Now were shot outside Tropical World at Roundhay Park in Leeds. Well, we did a lot of our training manouevres around there.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. And we were in Vietnam too. Can’t talk about it though.”
“Ok then, Scorcher. What’s this regiment you were in? How come it’s so secret?”
“Special Forces, Lucifer. Best of the best. I spent fifteen long, bloody years with the S.H.S.”
“S.A.S., Scorcher. They’re called the S.A.S.”
“Fuck off! I’m not talking about them soft puffs! No, I was in the S.H.S.”
What’s that stand for?”
“Special Horse Service.”
“You’re going to have to give me a minute here, Scorcher….. ok, ok I’m alright now. Did you just say Special Horse Service?”
“Aye, and If I had Trigger here with me today, God rest his soul, you wouldn’t be laughing like that!”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t. So how did that work then, Scorcher? Did they parachute you into combat zones on the back of your horse?”
“So you do know about the S.H.S then!”
“Fuck me…”
“Yeah, those were the days. We taught those horses to gallop in mid air, so when we hit terra firma, Whoosh! we were off! You don’t need no Land Rover if you’ve got a horse, Lucifer!”
“Wouldn’t a horse be a bit conspicuous in a war zone, Scorcher?”
“Not at all! WE always wore local costume. Think about it – a lot of these places where guerrilla armies are kicking off, the only way of getting about is by horse! We were just beating them at their own game. Deserts were a bit trickier though.”
“What, because of the lack of water?”
“No, cause everyone rides camels. Our horses stood out a mile off.”
What did you do, Scorcher?’
“We made camel outfits, of course!”
“For you or the horses?”
“For the horses, Lucifer. Best days of my life with the regiment, Lucifer. I’ve got the regimental tattoo and everything.”
“Give us a look.”
“There you go…”
“Oh, come on! A proper look! That was barely a fucking glimpse!”
“Use your fucking eyes, Lucifer! Look – a horse’s head, symbol of the regiment! Believe me now?”
“No.”
“What? Why not?”
“That’s not a horse’s head, Scorcher. It’s Scooby Doo.”
“How dare you! That’s a genuine regimental tattoo, that is!”
“So what do those words mean?”
“It’s latin! It means ‘On Hooves of Steel’! It’s the regimental motto!”
“Let’s get this straight. You’re trying to tell me that ‘Scooby Dooby Doo’ means ‘On Hooves of Steel’ in Latin?”
“Yes.”
“Bollocks.”
“I don’t care what you think, Lucifer. You watch them reports on News at Ten tonight. If you see some bloke in the background on horseback, it’s more than likely one of our lads from the S.H.S.!”
“Like I said, Scorcher, bollocks.”

Advertisements
This entry was posted in The Stories.. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to 63. Who Dares Whinnies.

  1. James says:

    Seems like that bloke Scorcher lives in a paralytic universe.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s