The RAF Collection!

Discussion in 'Diamond Lil's' started by Reservist-Monkey, Mar 27, 2007.

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  1. My first thought was who the h*ll would buy that stuff never mind wear it, then I thought of all the strange people out there , but will they make a profit, mind you it seems price for low volume sales. £60 for jeans when I can get perfectly seviceable one in Tesco for £3
  2. Even the Falklands 25 gear does rip you off that much, I'm in shock that MOD hasn't thought about this as an idea, They could create a new tri -service branch - Shop Assistant.
  3. I think the RLC have kicked that one off already. I am not sure even our SAs can be that surly :D
  4. I would! I think I would look rather fetching in flying helmet,goggles and scarf!
  5. Hear this on the radio, seems a bit of an odd idea. I bet the old boys won't be too pleased!

    Shall we design our own RumRation wear?
  6. Shop in a Levi's store Maxi and they are £ 90 :shock:

    ...I too buy Tesco specials, nowt wrong with them...very comfy :grin:
  7. This is bloody ridiculous and somewhat irritating. This is the wrong Forum for this rant but look at the Brevet Classic Pique Polo Shirt . It makes a deliberate point of having a genuine looking R A F pilot's brevet on it. Whatever one thinks of stick monkeys, some very gifted and hard working people sweat blood and tears to earn that qualification badge. That's leaving aside all those killed or maimed wearing it. Some oik can now buy one and wear it, albeit for a lot of money, with official sanction. OK, it's not the same but is Joe or Josephine Public going to know the difference or even care?

    This morally bankrupt Government will sell anything for a bit of publicity and a few gash quid.
  8. Why is that twit leaning against the propeller?! Oh what fun if the mains switch just flicked on (as they sometimes do, of their own accord) and kick-started the engine. He'd be sliced and diced in moments!

    I actually think its a good idea that the services sell smart-casual wear for off-duty, and I'm not too ashamed to say that I have a few jumpers and shirts with the ship's name and badge emblazoned on it. However this does stretch the mind somewhat. I mean, really, this is a waste of money. Who is actually going to buy all of it?
  9. In agreement with Passed-over_loggie! Plus it all seems really pretentious.
  10. Being a crab myself I have long been envious of the RN with their branded casual kit as well as the Army proudly wearing t-shirts etc displaying their membership to whichever regiment or corps. If there was a reasonably priced official RAF rugby shirt I would buy one, but these prices are ridiculous, and I have to ask where the profits go. This kind of kit can promote the profile of the Armed Forces, so why is it not subsidised or even issued?
  11. Can get RN stuff from the Navy News (prices are seem better to) although its a much smaller range.

    Navy News RN Wear
  12. I could be wrong, but what i heard on the radio made it sound like it's available to all, military or not. I like the idea of current or ex-service personnel having gear like this, but everyone else?
  13. Have thought that before, you can get AARSE stuff so how about RR stuff!
  14. There in it to make mony Snaps, so it will be available to everyone, Just like the stuff out of Navy News.
  15. 35 quid for a gay pink polo shirt…

    I think I'll pass thank you!
  16. Biggles Takes on the Rebranders
    (with apologies to Captain WE Johns)

    The Western Desert - 1942

    Squadron Leader James 'Biggles' Bigglesworth stepped down from his dusty Hurricane IID and walked over towards the debriefing tent, wiping his sweating brow with his silk scarf.

    He entered the relative cool of the tent – ‘Spy’ the Intelligence Officer was there, as was his CO, Wing Commander Wilkinson who looked up as he entered.

    "Well I think I got three Panzer IVs and I made a mess of a halftrack. Two trucks destroyed too – but you’ll have to check with Bertie whether that halftrack was a definite. I think we gave them a bloody nose today." announced Biggles.

    "Good show Biggles," said Wilks "I’ve got new orders for you here – you are being taken off ‘Ops’, old chap."

    "What?" said Biggles, sweat and grime still caked on his face, "Rommel is pressing us harder than ever... whatever can be more important than this?"

    Wilkinson tapped his pipe and looked at Biggles squarely. "We need a keen resourceful officer to complete a special mission – on which the balance of the whole war might rest."

    Tired as he was, Biggles eyes lit up. "I think you have the right chap sir - tell me more."

    "You'll be posted immediately to Cairo –"

    "Some cloak and dagger stuff crossing swords with Jerry in the souks?" enquired Biggles.

    "No, much more important - we want you to choose sock designs for the summer season of the new RAF clothing collection," said Wilks, puffing on his pipe.

    Biggles jaw hung open

    "I not sure I understand - reviewing socks?"

    The Wing Co. looked serious. "That’s right Bigglesworth - its important we get front line feedback from chaps like you on what is fashionable... The previous Typhoon Trainers, as you well know, are now being used to line AA emplacements, anti-splinter mats on MTBs and the rest as landfill - we don't want that ****-up happening again. God only knows why we were talked into ordered 5 million pairs of them."

    "But - we've got Rommel on our doorstep, we're down to our last seven Hurricanes, we’re running low on fuel and ammunition and a party of squadron mechanics got kidnapped the other day by tribesman...." protested Biggles, but he was cut off.

    "-We've got those covered Biggles - firstly you be receiving new aircraft immediately - the government realises how serious the war effort here is and as a result 266 will be getting four Gloster Gauntlets." Wilks sounded pleased at this outcome.

    "Biplanes?" exclaimed Biggles? "You can’t be serious! How are we expected to kill tanks with those - let alone fight 109s?"

    "I don't know - you'll figure it out. I would expect you to crash into them, sacrificing yourself - especially if I tell you to," said Wilks cheerily.

    Biggles thought fast. "What about those eight P-40s on lend lease from the Yanks – are they still sitting doing nothing in that hanger in Cairo? Give me a day to fly out with a few of my chaps and we can have them bombed up and attacking the forward German divisions in no time!"

    Wilks shook his head. "I’m afraid not Bigglesworth – RAE Farnborough has qualified them day VFR flight only – after the cockpit upgrade to install a British spec ashtray went terribly wrong. We can’t use them for combat – too risky."

    "Riskier than being overrun by Rommel’s panzers?" snapped Biggles.

    "Don’t worry – it’s being worked on – another three or four years and they will be cleared for use."

    "And what about the fitters - aren't we going to try to get them back? I can take Algy with me and we can beat up that tribesmen’s fort with cannon until their eyes water..."

    "Heaven's no - all we're going to do is put out a few press releases and maps and keep our fingers crossed- no point in inflaming the situation... Once they see that our maps are correct they’ll do the decent thing" said the Wing Commander, pointing at the situation maps in the Int tent.

    "But – what if they don’t hand them back?"

    "Then we’ll get really tough – with a bring-and-buy sale, a T-shirt press event and an wireless telegraph petition campaign." Wilks clamped his jaw.

    “And another thingâ€, said Biggles, "two days ago Algy almost got shot down by a couple of over-aggressive Yanks."

    "Well did he identify himself properly? – They are very new in theatre, you know."

    "Yes – he fired the colours of the day, but the clots kept on attacking."

    "Well I don’t know,†said Wilks angrily. "Why don’t you paint your aircraft with luminous orange panels? – They wouldn’t be able to miss those, surely."

    “I wouldn’t count on it…sir†Biggles was suddenly tired and made for the tent flap.

    "Before you go there’s some more admin news from the top. Fighter Command, Bomber Command and Coastal Command are all merging to form Air Command - unusual name, eh? While that move will be creating more three star slots at high level, we will be generating a more cohesive trained audience out here in the desert. Impressive, eh?" Wilks beamed at the thought of redoing the squadron's letterheads to incorprate another mission statement.

    "Audience?" said Biggles, "This isn't the Windmill Theatre sir!!"

    "Now, now Bigglesworth" said Wilks to the pilot, “No need to get all defensive. There will still be plenty of command slots what with the new Merchandising Command being formed."

    But Biggles was already striding out - dust was blowing across the desert as the last of the squadron taxied in to dispersal. He entered his tent and was astonished to see a young woman with blonde hair, sitting at a desk with mirrors, and a hairdryer preening herself.

    "Aren't you in the wrong tent?" asked Biggles.

    "No, sir I've been posted here - do you want to put your stuff in my Samsonite? your kit looks a bit dusty... that black heavy thing.."

    "My service pistol -"

    "…nearly fell on my foot" she said accusingly.

    "We'll see about this" said Biggles quietly.

    "OK - but can you be a sweetie and hold this mirror while I just rub this suntan lotion in - I might as well get a decent tan while I'm here – say - have you got any toe separators so I can do my nails?"

    But Biggles had spotted Wilks walking past the lines outside his tent. "One moment," he snarled.

    "Wilks - why is there a WRAF in my tent?†he said in a low voice. “And I fully realise that question may be an insult to WRAFs.â€

    "A WRAF? No, that’s your new wingman, or wingwoman, anyhow.†Wilks grinned, "Don't worry about her - she's a good stick - she's only admitted to pranging five aircraft so far..."

    "Five aircraft so far?" asked Biggles, eyes wide, “But there are lots of women flying in the ATA today who have probably got more hours on Spits and Hurris than me - so where on earth did we find her?"

    "On a reality radio show - where else? Do keep up with things, Biggles." Wilks said condescendingly. “After the success of Big Soldier and the Navy doing Sailor Idol – the RAF had to do something so we had 'How do you solve a problem like the Luftwaffe?' - and she won..."

    "But surely sir the way to beat the Luftwaffe is by killing them and breaking their stuff?" said Biggles, thinking of those panzers in his gunsight earlier today.

    "That’s a bit kinetically minded old chap - look you'll just have to lump it – she's very popular with the general public. And I'd keep you sexist anti-wingwoman comments to yourself or you'll get voted off the squadron very early..."

    Biggles looked shaken. "Voted off the squadron? By who sir?"

    "The general public, of course. We're hosting Celebrity Love Oasis at this airbase from next week - haven't you heard?" said Wilks.

    "I’m afraid that news passed me by, sir, what with the Afrika Korps knocking on our door…"

    "Well, no matter, just get cracking on the sock designs – and remember Bigglesworth, I expect every pilot in this squadron to make the ultimate sacrifice and crash into the highest priority, ultimate target if the situation demands it…â€

    "What sir? – do you mean that Adolf himself has been spotted visiting the front line?" asked Biggles hopefully.

    "No, you dummy!" exploded the Wing Co, "The Afrika Korps is about to launch its revamped spring women's fashion collection – I want their head stylist taken out – otherwise we’re never going to shift those RAF bikinis I requested! There’s a whole convoy full of ‘em due in from Malta tomorrow!"

    "And our desperate fuel and ammo situation sir?"

    "I don’t know – for you it’s always the glass is half empty isn’t it Bigglesworth…" said Wilks, walking away…

    Biggles wasn't listening as stood watching his CO walk away. Nearby erks, stripped to the waist, were busy loading 40mm rounds in 266’s Hurricanes, under the merciless sun, ready for action.

    He squinted his eyes into the distance. What was happening to his beloved air force? Rommel was on the offensive - the chips were down and the air marshals were interested in sock patterns... Was this any way to fight a war?
  17. ROTFL

    You're not a journo are you, it seemed a bit too true real life :lol:

  18. Her hair dried Pilot Officer Joan “Worrals†Worralson of the WAAF tightened her stomach muscles, clenched her buttocks and raised a quizzical eyebrow. Hmm that should be enough to impress the erks. She was a stunningly beautiful woman with nerves of steel who had come a long way since she had first discovered how to exercise her womanly charms on Squadron Leader McNavish. What she had in fact discovered was that the best way to obtain stripes was actually to deal them out and a smile briefly flickered across her moist pouting lips at the memory of the wrinkled bottoms of crusty old officers which had lain across her suspender clad thighs trembling at the promise of her upraised hand.

    “Pull yourself together girl†she softly chided licking an immaculately manicured finger to twist a blond curl at just he right angle and topping it off with her jaunty blue cap. Ah, the colour did so suit her eyes.

    As she turned smartly to leave the tent she came face to face with Squadron Leader Bigglesworth who had hurried back to the tent eager for a second encounter with this divine creature. For a barely perceptible moment their bodies touched and there was a just audible clink of buttons. This unexpected proximity caused the young ace to blush fiercely to the roots of his regulation haircut and in his confusion he took a quick step backwards tripping up as he did over the tent’s guy ropes and landing on the seat of his serge trousers in the hot desert sand. Worrals took a deep breath and a step forward so that he now lay between her exquisite tiny feet. As she straddled the now perspiring young hero she saw that his eyes had glazed over and he goggled at the view that this supine position afforded him from the tip of her non-regulation wedges to the barely glimpsed lace of her suspenders which topped perfectly muscled legs and which he suddenly and uncontrollably imagined wrapped around his rather prominent ears. These twin pathways to heaven were neatly encased at the upper extremity by a tight blue skirt which as he lay between her spread legs seemed stretched beyond the limits of the weavers skill. The virginal young officer was completely overwhelmed by this arousing vision and lay helpless, heart pounding as this goddess in blue serge squinted slightly, her gaze raking the dusty horizon and slowly ran a finger up along the neckline of her crisp white shirt and then performed what appeared in his befuddled state to be a minor adjustment of the apparatus which encased a trembling pair of upwardly thrusting globes shimmering in the desert heat. As she bent over him proffering her hand a subtle womanly odour assailed his nostrils, a tantilising mix of armpits which had never seen a razor and something terribly expensive from Paris. He paused to savour this intimacy for just one moment before grasping this same manicured hand which just a second earlier had been in close proximity to those heavenly sisters. He took a deep breath, she smiled, and then with an iron grip honed through many a spanking session on aging buttocks she pulled the trembling officer to his feet.

    “I say – you don’t half have a strong grip sweetieâ€

    this was said with a rather cheeky grin which very quickly disappeared when he realised that his pleasure at the encounter was now obvious to even the most casual bystander.

    “Indeed I have darling†she replied coyly “In fact where I come from they call me the Iron Ladyâ€

    At these words a momentary spasm crossed his face. Barely visible to the untrained civilian eye this involuntary movement was very familiar to a highly trained agent such as Worralls and was an effect which did not entirely displease this young version on whom a later famous British Prime Minister had modelled herself always having had larger cojones than the male members of her war cabinet.

    “I expect they told you my cover story about the talent contest†she declared whilst smiling shyly with dark violet eyes through the longest lashes he had ever seen and winding a stray blonde curl around an elegant finger. "And I expect they told you the story about the new RAF clothing collection too†she said lowering her eyelids and tilting her head to one side in a way that decades later would be copied by a certain 'Princess of Hearts' and whose effect was to make him want to rip off her elegantly tailored uniform and plunge between the ivory thighs he had momentarily glimpsed so tantilisingly from his earlier submissive position.

    “Er yes er actually they did†he stuttered looking over his shoulder as if to check that chiefy wasn’t observing this disloyal behaviour “Actually†he confided in an even greater breach of OPSEC “it did seem rather strange considering the current crisisâ€

    “Well keep it under your hat Biggles there’s a good lad, but you and I have been chosen for a secret mission, one that even the CO can never know about. So get yourself sorted out and er cleaned up" she said her eyes briefly flicking over the small damp patch which she had observed to appear following her mention of the words ‘Iron Lady’ “and then I’ll er bring you up to speed, as they sayâ€

    With this she once more turned to the mirror and adjusted her cap to an even more off-centre angle and with what he could have sworn was a coy wink sashayed out of the tent and disappeared into the mysterious swirling sands.

    Well that’s all folks. Tune in again for another episode of our thrilling desert saga.

    Will Bigglesworth manage to get the stain out of his blue serge trousers?

    Is sultry secret agent Worrals what she seems and will she complete her secret mission or be distracted in the completion of her duty by the enticements of Biggles, Algy and their fat sandy haired pal Ginger?

    Does Worrals even exist or is she a mere chimera created by the feverish longings of a young man who has spent too long in the embrace of his trusty pals?

    Will the CO ever find out that he has been duped by the top brass and be made to look a complete idiot as he models the new range of leisurewear at daily press briefings?

    For all this, and more… watch this space

    Joan "Worrals" Worralsworth
  19. silverfox

    silverfox War Hero Moderator Book Reviewer

    Can't wait for the next episode - "Biggles flies undone..."

    This is almost as good as porn... in fact out here this IS porn.... back in a moment...

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