Skiffing. The noble art of popping a finger up your claypipe and rubbing it over the rim of a mug, some cutlery or under someones nose. This is always best done on day five of a mad field exercise in the middle of summer where the combination of clag, dried sweat and cheese are present. In my time, i have skiffed many people and many things. For those out there that have never partaken of this childish pleasure, i thought i would regale you with my proudest skiffing tale to date. Not long after i got back from Op Granby, i was tasked to go over to another Signal Squadron to assist with a comms exercise. When i rocked up, i found out that i would be driving around the Commander Med, who was a Lt Colonel in the RAMC. I thought this would be a doddle until i met the cunt. He was about 4ft10, bald and had Himmler specs. He also had small mans syndrome, halitosis and was as wide as he was tall. Worse, he thought that i was posted to him as his own personal batman as opposed to his comms God/driver. As you can imagine, it was a match made in heaven. On the exercise, we had umpire status which meant that we were non tactical. Lt Col Weeble took that to mean that whenever we pulled into a location for the night, Sig Blackrat would put up his own personal 9x9 tent (i shit you not), assemble his bed, sort out his kit etc etc. I took great pleasure in this as i emptied my bladder in the bottom of his bergen, placed used arse rag in his webbing, popped his toothbrush up my hoop, you get the picture. The skiffing started when he would insist that i make him scoff in the morning and make him a mug of tea. Being the observant warrior i was back then, i noticed that Lt Col Fatcunt would always hold his mug in his right hand. This being the case, i would skiff the opposite side so whenever he drank, he would get a whiff of my stench trench which as the exercise went on, was becoming quite horrid indeed. It was a joy watching him drink his brew while watching his eyebrows raise alarmingly with each gulp. Becoming bored with this, i took the skiffing to new levels. One night when he was snoring in his marquee while i was threaders under a basha, i sneaked in, had a good rummage around my starfish and wiped the residue on his specs. For good measure i shoved his favourite pen up my arse as i noticed he would pop it in his mouth while reading things. My proudest moment was when he said to me "Blackrat. We are going to visit some Combat Medics. To show willing, we are going to cam up so we look the part. As you know about these things, would you be so kind to cam my face up?" You betcha. Popping off to get my cam cream from my webbing, i popped my finger up my dung tunnel and pulled out a bit of fresh cack. Placing more cam on my other fingers, i made sure that the cack went right under his nose (in a Hitler tash way) and made his cam as shit as possible (from memory, i managed to draw a small cock on his cheek and a pirates scar on his chin.) Do you know what? He never even checked my work. Others did and were courteous enough not to point this out to him. How i laughed when he turned his cock cheeked side to me and said "Do you know something? I think i can smell dung". "I can't Sir. It must be the cam cream" Skiffing. It's for winners.