probably best to avoid exposing yourself to the article below lest you
damage your delicate brain even further. Go read The Guardian or listen
to some Simon & Garfunkel or sort out your cardigan cupboard instead.]
(And if that warning doesn't guarantee me a captive audience I don't
know what will)

bocmunro@nortel.ca (Bruce Munro) wrote:

>Paul Crankshaw <paulc@easynet.co.uk> wrote:
>>1986 Cross-channel ferry wrecked when Man Utd West Ham and Everton
>>supporters
>
>I didn't realise they'd actually sunk the ship! I knew the ICF were
>pretty tough, but that's going some.

Yeah. I were there, mate. I'm one of the old capos from United's
notorious Z-Faction. We sunk that fuckin' boat just like we sunk the
Belgrano back in '74.
Me and my old mate Spadge from 2-Para were right there on the front
lines when it all went off on the Sealink Dover-Calais Weekend Tripper.
And it went off large style. When the fighting began, Spadge was out on
point, looking for passengers with Argentine connections. "Are you an
Argie?", he'd ask to any passerby. One bloke goes, "No, mate, I'm from
Southampton", so Spadge goes, "Close enough" and pitches the Argie
fucker overboard. One-nil to the In-ger-lish!
"You hard bastard", I says to Spadge, shaking the hard bastards hand.
Spadge just nodded, "Yeah, that's the fucker that killed my brother at
Goose Green in '79". "I know mate," I says, "I never forget a cunts face
me".

By now it was kicking off all over the place, so we saunters off
below-deck to look for more Z-Faction action. I'd already had thirty
pints that day so I thought I'd best go to the bogs for a slash before
resuming battle. You can't defend your Queen 'n country with a full
fuckin bladder, and I should know I'm such a hard drinking bastard. So I
finds the latrine and, surprise surprise, guess who I find inside - it's
none other than my old mate Paul "X-Man" Smith, the man who once stopped
an Exocet missile with his teeth at the Battle Of Port Oliver. I owe my
life to this cunt. Salt of the earth. Right now X-man is busy raping
this weedy little French kid that he's dragged into the bogs with him.
He's going at it good style, but the kids arse is starting to split and
the soft-as-shite little fucker is crying away like a baby what's
dropped its ice-cream. I just couldn't believe it. "SHUT THE FUCK UP! WE
NEVER EVEN HAD ICE-CREAM WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE!!!!", I scream at the mardy
little bastard. The fuckin' nerve of these frogs. "You need some scotch
tape, X-man", I says, "then you'll be able to cover it's mouth and
tighten its arse up. Don't worry, I'll go and rob you some."

So I strolls over to the duty-free shop, and straight away I clock this
smooth-looking cunt near the doorway. It's obvious this twat fancies
himself large. A real King Shit of Turd Mountain. So I walks past him,
all casual like, and I just calmly swipe his sunglasses off his greasy
foreign head and pop 'em on me own noggin!!! I'm mad, me! Anyway, this
cunt says nothing, he just stares at me, with a sort of sneering
expression, like I'm a piece of dogshit. "What d'you think you're
looking at, twat?", I says. Now it's obvious he's shitting bricks, but
he's trying not to let on. "I said what the fuck are you looking at you
fuckin ugly wop-wog-frog-Argie-kike-kraut-cockney-scouse-moss side
scumbag?"
By now he's so scared he can't even speak so I just wind me arm back and
paste one on the fucker large style. Now I swear this is true, the guys
head rips right off! Honest! His fuckin nose just exploded as soon as I
whacked the fucker and the head popped off and rolled out the door!
Then Spadge walks in behind me, "What the fuck are you doing, Snapper?"
he says, "You've just twatted a mannequin".
"The cunt was trying to stare me down", I says, "he thought he was rock"
"The cheeky bastard", says Spadge, then he booted the torso in its
bollocks. It tried to act like it didn't hurt, but you could tell it
did. You could just tell. "Leave the him alone now, Spadge," I says,
holding him back, "he's had enough, that cunt's learned his lesson good
style". I was always a bit of a peacemaker me.

So I grabbed the scotch tape and went back to the bogs to find X-man.
Anyway I sees him walk out, zipping himself up. "What the fuck?", I
says, "I've just robbed this tape for you".
"Nah, I didn't need it Snapper", he says, "I just cut its head off and
shagged its windpipe"
He's a fucking good soldier X-man. You won't find him at a loose end. He
knows what to do in a tight spot. One of Britains finest. I'm glad that
cunt'll be on my side when the ragheads drop the bomb. But the best
thing, the absolute best thing about X-Man is that his mum makes a
fucking lovely spag bol when I have my tea at his house on Fridays. I'm
always dead embarrassed when he stays at my house because the only food
my mum makes is foreign shit.

-- 
Snaps.