In days of old when.......

Discussion in 'Diamond Lil's' started by Rumrat, Jul 16, 2011.

Welcome to the Navy Net aka Rum Ration

The UK's largest and busiest UNofficial RN website.

The heart of the site is the forum area, including:

  1. Once upon a time in a Navy far far away,
    Across the very constrictions of time itself,
    Lived a breed of man so different from now, you would almost think they were from Mars or even worse,...
    But it was not the physical appearance of these men that set them apart from there later day replacements, oh no it was mentality.
    These demi gods who although could not actually walk on water, did on many occasions attempt that very fête, and far more. This was induced by a very old religion known as shit facery.
    I personally can recollect the night, placing personal safety aside, as well as hygiene, common sense and taste, did singlehandedly take on big Silvia.
    This fearless quest was induced in the first instance by a burning desire to stop this fat woman dictating my record selection on the juke box in the Albany Hotel. It was further fueled by eight pints of larger and a sense of well being peculiar to the consumption of excessive amounts of alcohol.
    Lulled into a false sense of security and well being, I bravely and in retrospect foolishly announced to all and sundry in my deep falsetto 15 year old voice, "Put you're own fuckin money in the juke box"
    An immediate hush fell over the saloon bar, and a feeling of expectancy and impending doom hung in the fetid air like a sword of Damocles over the condemned man. (or in this case boy)
    Big Silvie casually strode round the bar and almost silfe like stood affront me legs apart, arms akimbo with an almost nonchalant air she struck like a rattle snake.
    I can fly, I can fly I thought as I sped through the air at mack 2 before making contact with the back wall and sliding down like expelled saliva.
    No I can't I then realized as I ceased velocity and gravity raised its head and exercised its power, to drop me like a bag of spare shit.
    Oh fuck I expostulated.
    You twat she reiterated and kicked me in my instralls.
    I love Portsmouth I though somewhat spontaneously.
    Get out she ordered authoritatively.
    God I could run in 1965 I overtook Nijinsky as I fled for the tranquil safety of the Golden fleece , a place where a man could be a man.

Share This Page