Whilst my day to days are dominated with various trials and tribulations (things are so bad dear reader, I have to chop my own logs for the fire) I am consoled by the fact that at least I have an honourable military past.
Whilst the various pacifists, atheists, dole wallers, work wear shop owners and general malingers of this Borough my be very vocal about my Remembrance Day black out, at least I am prepared to put on the uniform of the Crown and head to the front line.
By instinct I am not an arrogant man, and neither am I one who likes to show off, but yours truly has been a member of the Royal Naval Reserve since I first was able to mutter the phrases “salty seadog” and “land ahoy captain”. My love of the sea was further cemented when I read such classics as “Treasure Island”, “The Sea Shall Not Have Them”, “The Caine Mutiny” and “Captain Birdseye: The Fish Finger Years”.
Not only have I received intelligence and survival briefings, been trained to how to tell the front of a boat from the back, differentiate the sea from the horizon, but I was also charged with ensuring that the rum rations were distributed efficiently. During my tenure at the bar (sorry, that should read brig), not a drop of rum was spilt or wasted, regardless of how the ship rocked and appeared blurred in bad weather.
So you can see dear reader, that I hold my navy credentials and medals in high regard, especially my 100 metre bronze life saver and Boy Scout angling badges. I am also very proud of my glittering war time activities in Korea, Vietnam, The Falklands and Bosnia.
Though Afghanistan may be a land locked country from which you can’t even smell the sea never mind “see” it, the battle against terrorism will be won on the water, not the land.
It is then my nautical chums that I, Seaman Posh, will single handily defeat Osama Bin Pugwash!
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