The return of the Colonel, and a Thrubsday vote-o

The Regimental Correspondence of Colonel Albert O'Balsam, DSC and Bar

Oh Lordy, the Colonel's back again...

June 27th 1873, Nangahar

One would wish, at this stage, move to crush these scurrilous rumours surrounding my good self and the mysterious disappearance of "Fluffy", our beloved regimental goat.

While it is true that the luscious, pouting Miss Fluffy did accompany me on my trek to save the souls of the many, many sixteen-to-seventeen year old Swedish nymphettes to be found in Madame Inge's Himalayan Finishing School for Sixteen-to-Seventeen Year Old Swedish Nymphettes - where I had the good fortune to be engaged as games mistress - I would go as far as striking down and killing any cur who dare suggest anything untoward happened between myself and me ruminant companion. An act I have done on several occasions in the name of the LORD, making sure that all the negatives were destroyed into the bargain.

However, I am aware that these rumours persist, particularly in the pages of the Himalayan Times, where fearful tales of myself and my caprine friend - clearly the work of SATAN - have led the the local villagers raising a baying hate mob, which, utterly bewildered an' confused due to the large quanitites of mind-alterin' substances required by the ceremonial work, I was forced to quell with me trusty Gatling gun.

I hope this clears up the confusion re: Fluffy. The CO will remember that I went to great lengths to replace her before me enforced trek up the mountains, and I still have the signed witness reports regarding his good self and Steve, the regimental hamster.

There is still plenty of work to be done saving these unfortunate young ladies, which has provoked a surge of interest from several, dare I say, opportunist volunteers. My simple advice to these unsaved individuals is this: Join the queue, I saw them first.

I should thank my superior officers for their kind offers of assistance in what I see as my GOD-given pennance involving these Scandinavian temptresses.

Orders are orders however, and I am more than willing to shove some in the direction of regimental headquarters, because when you've reached my age, one barely clothed Swedish girl, writhing in baby oil, her moans reaching a peak of ecstasy as I lay hands on her in the ceremony of EXTREME UNCTION, is much the same as any other.

Like all acolytes of THE CRAFT, I insist that young ladies approaching MY INNER SANCTUM are not depilated, but are merely well trimmed in what THE LORD HIMSELF describes as "Brazilian".

I must take leave of you now - Inge is calling - but could the regimental Quartermaster prod a couple of crates of AA batteries in my direction? THE LORD'S work really chews up the power.


Thrubsday vote-rub

Good grief, it's Thursday again, which, thanks to some bastard messing about with my computer's custom dictionary will henceforth be known as "Thrubsday". So, on this, the first Thrubsday of the month, your votes, please for tomorrow's Fribsday Tale of Mirth and Woe.

The more observant amongst you may notice that one of the accompanying 100 per cent true facts may contain a minor inaccuracy. Can you spot which one it is?

* Bin: "Female beavers have a part of their bodies called the 'human'. For some reason, male beavers find this incredibly amusing. A male beaver, of course, is called a 'cock'."

* Rubbery: "In a new law passed by the US Government - concerned by the deadly threat posed by Al Qaeda, ultra-conservative survivalist groups and heavily-armed Jehovah's Witnesses - all security guards at sensitive installations much weigh at least 300 pounds and be able to complete the 100 yard dash in less than five minutes."

* Doctors and Nurses: "In George Lucas's original script of the movie ‘Star Wars’, Darth Vader was to have been called Graham Piles, and would complain bitterly about Mrs Vader's insistent nagging over the housework; while Luke Skywalker was to have been partnered by a world-weary veteran cop on his last mission before retiring to a yacht in Honolulu"

* Timmy: "When holidaying in Italy, there is no need to hire a motor bike or scooter to get from a to b. Follow the example of the locals, and just take one from the many public scooter dumps to be found around any town or city. And it's free!"

* Fairground Shoot-out: "Rat's urine is entirely odourless below room temperature. That is why Australian beer is always served chilled. Mixed with equal parts of Cillit Bang, the concoction is marketed as Creme de Menthe"

Vote! Etc!

Also: Duck world domination attempt continues