Marine Potter and the Store room of secrets


War Hero
What do you reckon guys, shall I continue, or give it up as a bad job?

"Marine Potter..... Marine Potter..... Marine Potter wake up!"
He opened his eyes slightly, squinting at the sunlight shining through the 'Winnie the Pooh'curtains. "Where the feck am I?" he wondered as vague recollections of the previous nights debauchery slowly filtered through to his conciousness. "God, didn't I do that awful thing from 'The Globe' last night?" He began to turn his head towards the sound of the voice, and immediately wished he hadn't as a blinding headache and feeling of nausea overcame him.....then things got worse!

Peering intently at him was what can best be described as a double bagger dwarf."Marine Potter, must not return to Limpstone" it said, blowing him a kiss that set his stomach churning. "Hi, where am I?" he asked, looking down at his c0ck and marvelling that he'd managed to get it up for such a horror, and at the same time incidentally discovering that he seemed to have swamped the bed.

Just then he noticed the crusted tidemark halfway up his wand which was lying next to the bed, and remembered the decidedly non-magical use he'd put it to the night before.

"Marine Potter, must not return to Limpstone, you can't leave me, I love you!"
"Where's my invisibilty cloak when I really need it ?" thought Potter to himself.

"Just a minute love, I've got to go the bog" he said, grabbing his mobile as he ran to safety. Once he had the door locked, he quickly texted his mate Ron (unfortunately a bit of a GWAR and a total biff to boot, but otherwise a decent bloke), and then got down to doing a serious post-drink/kebab dump.

Putting the lid back on the laundry basket, he carefully wiped his arrse on the curtains, and tried to decide on the best way to get his clothes and get out of the house as quickly as possible.
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War Hero
It was going to have to be the 'just nipping out for some fags/rolls/newspaper' routine .......or alternatively, he could try that dodgy powder he'd got from Ron. "Hmmm, If she's loved up already, she'll never let me go to the shops without insisting that she comes along. It's going to have to be the powder!"

"Alright love" he shouted cheerily to the short slapper-like thing. "Want to give me my clothes?"
"What's up Marine? Have you gone all shy on me?" She leered, as she attempted to open the bathroom door.
"Yes, just give us a minute" said our hero grabbing his clothes through the gap.

Twenty seconds later, dressed in his usual vomit encrusted dessies, jeans with the fashionable Africa shaped stain, and his washed out Fred Perry, he was ready to roll.

Now it was time to try out the powder! He'd never actually tried it before, but according to Ron, it was a piece of p1ss. Taking the small paper rectangle out of his back pocket, he opened it carefully and poured it onto the toilet seat. Quickly taking his Visa card, he arranged it into a line, and with a rolled-up fiver snorted it, whilst uttering the words "The Globe".All at once the toilet flushed, and an instant later he found himself in "The Swan Inn".

Even before he'd picked himself up from the floor, they were upon him. "You goin' to buy us a drink then love?"

If anything, these slappers made last night's debacle look appealing. Of indeterminate age, anything between forty-five and sixty, inch thick make-up, and greasy hair, they tried to look alluring, but succeeding only in forcing the partially digested kebab in Marine's stomach to make a bid for freedom.

The harridans screamed and shot back as the vile mixture splattered on the floor, so Potter took advantage of their panic and bolted for the door.

At the bar of "The Globe" Ron sat with his pint, and looked worriedly at his watch. "Where the feck was Potter?" Lighting a fag, he turned just in time to see the dishevelled figure of his mate come through the door.
"Where have you been you dirty fecker? Did you do her again this morning? She was feckin' mingin' you should be ashamed of yourself!"
"Christ no Ron! I tried using your powder, and ended up at "The Swan Inn", it's a right dump, so it is"
"Just a minute" said Ron "Did you sniff it off a toilet seat?"
"Well yes, why?" asked Potter.
"If you sniff it from a toilet seat, it's obvious you're gonna end up in a sh1thole like that" said Ron "Get the beers in, it's your round!"
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Nice one, brings a tear to my eye and terrible memories of a mispent youth.

More chance of PTSD from those memories than any other incidents.


War Hero
Ok then F*ck the pongos lets continue it as a team efffort.

Can't get the beers in Ron, that slapper got me wallet & me ID card. That's me right in the Sh!t. Kin el mate looks like its my shout again you scrote complained Ron. Just then in walked Hermione the brown hatting MA from barracks. Oi poofter shouted Ron, its your round. OOh again minced Hermione, what you all having. Ten minutes later they were settled at the bar, Ron and Harry with pints of bitter and Hermione with a large Gin & gism. The sad tale of lost ID card was retold and Harry started to get more & more depressed. Don't worry said Hermione I can take care of the ID card, and while I'm at it I can give you something to cure what that old slapper no doubt gave you last night. But its going to cost you..............

Please continue


Right lads, rather than wait a month before The Caretaker steals it, you might as well get the third installment straight away.

After a beer or three (but who's counting!), the world was starting to look like a rosier, happier place. Just then, a massive fist slammed into the bar beside them "Hulloo there boys!" said a booming voice. It belonged to 'Magrid' (so called because of a legendary NAVEX where he'd remembered the "Grid to mag add, mag to grid get rid" bit, but forgotten what it meant, and had then thrown his compass away when 'getting rid', thus ensuring three days on the walkabout). Magrid was built like a brick outhouse, and had a similar amount of braincells, but on the whole was someone you definitely wanted to be friends with.

"Feckin 'ell Magrid, fancy seeing you here! Fancy a pint?" asked Squaddie. "Just a swift one then" said Magrid "I'm off to Silverman's Alley" he added quietly.
"Silverman's Alley??" shouted Squaddie and Ron in unison.
"Yes, now keep your voice down, there's walts everywhere" admonished Magrid.
"But I thought it was only a legend?" said Squaddie breathlessly.
"Nope, Silverman's Alley is definitely true. Everything a young squaddie could ever possibly need, and even more things that he'd never, ever find a use for, and all at twice the price that it's actually worth! Never mind the beer, follow me boys"

Magrid straightened up, dwarfing all of the other patrons at the bar, then walked resolutely towards a door that was clearly marked "STAFF ONLY". Squaddie and Ron followed closely behind, only to find themselves in a small walled courtyard.

Squaddie looked questioningly at Magrid, as the giant peered closely at the brickwork. "Can I borrow your wand a sec Squaddie?" he asked. Squaddie handed it over, and watched as Magrid punched a code into a small keypad that was set into the wall. Suddenly a whole section of the wall swung to one side, leaving Ron, who'd been leaning against it sprawled on the ground. "Here, thanks for loaning us your wand Squaddie.
Some cnut had puked on the keypad, and I was fecked if I was touching it" Squaddie wiped the wand on Ron, who was conveniently still lying on the ground, and muttered to himself.

"What's with the security precautions then Magrid?" asked Squaddie.
"Got to try and keep the walts out son" he replied.