Whiskey Charlie One Part 4

“The Americans are split, they’re always split but there’s the Jewish lobby and they don’t want Iranistan to have nukes as they will be pointed at them and there’s the Hispanic lobby who just want to drink Tequila and listen to Gloria Estefan but don’t want Iranistan to have nukes but since they’re pointed at Israel then they’re not bothered and then there’s the Irish” explained the Boss. “And what about the Irish, Boss? Asked a confused Flabby. “Nothing, there’s just the Irish” explained the Boss. “So who is it with the secret itinery? asked Flabby. “We’re not totally sure yet” replied the Boss. “There’s the Afro Americans and the Native Americans and the Asian Americans and the Canadian Americans and the Dutch Americans and the German Americans and the Polish Americans and the French Americans and the Italian Americans and the Middle Eastern Americans and it’s not them and of course there’s the Irish” went on the Boss. “Yes but what about the Irish, Boss?” repeated Flabby. “There’s just the Irish but I suppose we could blame them, everybody else does” concluded the Boss.”I hope it’s all crystal clear now” finished the Boss as Flabby and Ryan left for the NAAFI.

Whiskey Charlie One Part 4

Complete with new watch, four pound a week for forty-six weeks, Flabby prepared for the ‘job’. He wasn’t going make the mistakes they made in Iraqistan when the desert turned out be a very cold place. Flabby in his room had all his kit laid out on the bed. He started to get dressed, first the longjohns from Milletts. He turned the heating off in the room as he had started to sweat profusely. Layer after layer went on, everything checked and double checked. He was now bombproof and fireproof and protected from the cold and the wet and he needed the toilet so off it all came layer by layer and eventually he was of the right proportions to fit in the toilet.

Flabby dressed again, each layer checked and double checked until he was dressed ready to go. He walked down to the armoury and withdrew his personal weapons. The Heckler O’Koch, the Irish assault rifle, smoke grenades, flares, grenades, a Swiss army knife, a bag of Maltesers, various handguns, all the ammunition and ration packs from the QM’s stores. Each item was checked and double checked and finally he was ready to go. Ryan stood next to him similarly kitted out with PE and detonators to hopefully make a mess of the nuclear facility and a satellite phone to make contact and hopefully get extracted after it was all over and get back to fight for the book rights.

They walked outside talking about what the Boss had said. “Have you any ideas Ryan?” asked Flabby. “Fcuked if I know” replied Ryan, he could knock up a mean Roasted Monkfish wrapped in Parma Ham, Sundried Tomato & Fresh Basil served with a White Wine & Mascarpone Sauce but he wasn’t the brightest sometimes. “They’d had plenty of experience with the Irish especially the Northern Irish but he couldn’t see what the connection between the Irish and Iranistan was. It had been so much simpler in South Armagh, living in a hedge, a nice Caramelised Red Onion, Wild Mushroom, Thyme & Mozzarella Tart and watching the world go by. Happy memories, shoot a sniper, Dressed Salmon with Lemon & Watercress Mayonnaise for lunch and back in your hedge again.

The roar of the Agustas drowned out any conversation as the teams leapt into the back of the helicopters. Next stop a secret RAF base just off the A40, just follow the signs for Brize Norton and then off to the Peoples Islamic Republic of Kebabstan, the country bordering Iranistan. Flabby checked his kit for the last time and was horrified to find the family hamster curled up in the bottom of a pistol holster, it looks as though that hamster was finally going home and might even see some action. He pressed the light button on his watch and decided that next time he would buy one with a battery already in. He settled into his seat and stroked the hamster. He was always nervous en route to a ‘job’ but he had a bad feeling about this one and it wasn’t helped when the hamster bit his finger. With finger bleeding, Flabby sat in the back as the black Agustas roared their way to the RAF base wondering if he would ever see his wife and kids again or see Hereford’s next home game or cash in his Tescos Plus points for that nice hedge strimmer. The Agustas roared on and Flabby knew there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on which is exactly when the hamster bit him again. Whisky Charlie One was not a happy teddy.