Read Online Sweet Revenge: 200 Delicious Ways to Get Your Own Back by Belinda Hadden, Amanda Christie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Belinda Hadden, Amanda Christie
Tags: Humor, General, Literary Criticism, European, English; Irish; Scottish; Welsh, Cooking, Revenge, Wit and Humor
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that he was being sought by the Police; his credit rating was nil and would he kindly explain himself or they would have no alternative but to turn him, and his seventy-two paintings, on to the streets. Hilleary was made to sweat good and proper: the Swiss took a very dim view of the situation. It was hours later when he caught sight of the fax from the Acme Credit Control Agency in England... and recognised its address as that of one Mr Leng.
Military Mischief
'Always forgive your enemies - but never forget their names.'
Robert Kennedy
Military Mischief
An extremely arrogant young French cavalry officer from a very aristocratic background arrived at the officers' mess of a British regiment. It was pretty quickly assessed that he was going to be a difficult one. He was standoffish and, despite several attempts to include him and make him feel welcome, he did not let up and upset everyone he came into contact with. One night over dinner he informed the assembled company of officers in the mess that, as far as he was concerned, the French army was vastly superior in terms of ability and style to their British counterparts. A red rag to a bull.
As a result it was decided by several of the younger members of the officers' mess that he needed to be taught a lesson, and the more stylish a lesson the better. One night over dinner it was explained to him that a couple of members of the mess had found an extremely convenient and highly illegal route into what was then East Germany and that they would be taking a party of officers across that night to go and party hard in an East German pub where women and beer flowed all night. It was, of course, an extremely hazardous operation so only the bravest and most outstanding officers would go -would he be interested in joining them? His Gallic pride could not resist this temptation. He agreed. It is worth noting at this point that the regiment's location was some distance from the East German border but it was located close to a major range complex which was sealed off by barbed wire fences and manned checkpoints which, to the uninitiated, did look like border crossing points.
The French officer and three British officers set off in one of the subaltern's cars and proceeded to spend about an hour driving around in a large circle using several different autobahns, giving the impression that they were, in fact, travelling to the inner German border. They arrived at the entry point to one of the ranges where, waiting for them, were two young officers dressed in Russian uniforms and carrying Russian replica machine-guns which they had borrowed from the regiment's training wing. At the checkpoint one of the officers in the car expressed some concern that it was highly unusual to have Russians on the gate and that the normal border guard who let them through did not seem to be there. He gave the Frenchman the customary bottle of whisky used for bribing the guards on such occasions and told him to get out and give it to them.
As he approached, one of the 'Russians' stepped forward and addressed him in fluent Czechoslovak - a language unknown to the young Frenchman. After five minutes of torrential Czech abuse the Frenchman offered the bottle which was promptly smashed by the bogus guard who then, at machine-gunpoint, marched him into a dark corner where his hands were tied and a hood put over his head. He was told he was under arrest and would be taken to KGB HQ for interrogation.
The Frenchman was thrown into the back of a 'military vehicle' and driven for another long period round in circles until they arrived at the officers' mess where he was manhandled into the cellars and tied to a chair in front of a table on which there was a strong reading light pointing at him so that when the hood was removed, he could see nothing. He assumed he was alone. He cowered - not knowing twenty officers had crammed in to watch the proceedings.
The Orderly Officer appeared. In his
Military Mischief
'Always forgive your enemies - but never forget their names.'
Robert Kennedy
Military Mischief
An extremely arrogant young French cavalry officer from a very aristocratic background arrived at the officers' mess of a British regiment. It was pretty quickly assessed that he was going to be a difficult one. He was standoffish and, despite several attempts to include him and make him feel welcome, he did not let up and upset everyone he came into contact with. One night over dinner he informed the assembled company of officers in the mess that, as far as he was concerned, the French army was vastly superior in terms of ability and style to their British counterparts. A red rag to a bull.
As a result it was decided by several of the younger members of the officers' mess that he needed to be taught a lesson, and the more stylish a lesson the better. One night over dinner it was explained to him that a couple of members of the mess had found an extremely convenient and highly illegal route into what was then East Germany and that they would be taking a party of officers across that night to go and party hard in an East German pub where women and beer flowed all night. It was, of course, an extremely hazardous operation so only the bravest and most outstanding officers would go -would he be interested in joining them? His Gallic pride could not resist this temptation. He agreed. It is worth noting at this point that the regiment's location was some distance from the East German border but it was located close to a major range complex which was sealed off by barbed wire fences and manned checkpoints which, to the uninitiated, did look like border crossing points.
The French officer and three British officers set off in one of the subaltern's cars and proceeded to spend about an hour driving around in a large circle using several different autobahns, giving the impression that they were, in fact, travelling to the inner German border. They arrived at the entry point to one of the ranges where, waiting for them, were two young officers dressed in Russian uniforms and carrying Russian replica machine-guns which they had borrowed from the regiment's training wing. At the checkpoint one of the officers in the car expressed some concern that it was highly unusual to have Russians on the gate and that the normal border guard who let them through did not seem to be there. He gave the Frenchman the customary bottle of whisky used for bribing the guards on such occasions and told him to get out and give it to them.
As he approached, one of the 'Russians' stepped forward and addressed him in fluent Czechoslovak - a language unknown to the young Frenchman. After five minutes of torrential Czech abuse the Frenchman offered the bottle which was promptly smashed by the bogus guard who then, at machine-gunpoint, marched him into a dark corner where his hands were tied and a hood put over his head. He was told he was under arrest and would be taken to KGB HQ for interrogation.
The Frenchman was thrown into the back of a 'military vehicle' and driven for another long period round in circles until they arrived at the officers' mess where he was manhandled into the cellars and tied to a chair in front of a table on which there was a strong reading light pointing at him so that when the hood was removed, he could see nothing. He assumed he was alone. He cowered - not knowing twenty officers had crammed in to watch the proceedings.
The Orderly Officer appeared. In his
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