It was a done deal. That’s what we thought but the Queen’s Own thought different. After we were both lucky enough not only to make it back from the Murder on the Amazon, but also to bring back a tiny terror tot, everybody thought we’d be quids in. Of course, we could hardly present the puny predator to the learned societies ourselves. However much we wanted to. Because we know how much the authorities want us. That’s the problem. They’ve wanted us for years. And that’s what they want to give us. Years. So we had to leave collecting the cash to the soldier girls. Only a little bird has told us that it wasn’t exactly divided down the middle…
So now there’s been a tiny fall out over the sharing of the proceeds. And we’re off to talk it over. As we marched down the road, we noticed the Hussars setting themselves up for discussion on the tallest terrain in the vicinity. So we filed off behind the houses. We always like to give our friends nice surprises. We were spotted though and the girls in uniform formed a committee of welcome on the right hand side of their hill. How thoughtful. Not to be outdone we spread out a bit. Or even a lot. After all, you should always see all sides of a question.
When we got close enough, we sent them a cheery hello and then charged the baskets. If you ask me, they’d had too much pop the night before because their shooting was lousy. I wonder where they got the money to buy it from? We would have asked them politely but we were far too busy bashing seven shades of s**t out of their lousy heads. Not that we’re sore losers, No, we’re not sore losers at all. They are. They all ended up lying down groaning at how sore they were. Pausing only to whack the few left with any energy in them, they were left in no doubt that we’d be back tomorrow. And that tomorrow was pay day.
On the way home, there was a poster on the wall. “Support your Troops.” We certainly will. They’ll get every piece of support coming to them.
Not Diamond Annie,
Nowhere near Sandhurst,
Never even heard of the place.