Daily Mail - Richard Littlejohn
09:26am 28th March 2006
The Ministry of Defence is setting up a helpline offering welfare and legal advice to all serving and retired personnel. A pilot scheme is already under way. This column listened in.
Thank you for calling the MoD hotline. All calls are recorded by Military Intelligence for your safety and protection and may be used against you in a court martial. If you wish to speak to a confidential adviser, please press One.
Hello?
Wait for it, wait for it, WAIT FOR IT! Who gave you permission to speak?
Sorry.
Sorry, SARN'T MAJOR! Any more insubordination and I'll have your guts for garters, my lad.
Sorry, Sarn't Major.
Shut UP! If you're calling about bullying, press Two.
Hello?
Come along, soldier. Out with it. This better be good or you'll find yourself back at Deepcut. Name, rank and unit.
Gunner Beaumont. But you can call me Gloria. I'm serving in a concert party in Basra.
This hotline is for real soldiers, not a bunch of pooftahs. What's your problem?
I was wondering if I could get the MoD to pay for a sex-change operation.
Come to think of it, you probably can. Have a word with human resources and we'll get the M.O. to
book you in at The Wellington. Next! If you is calling about self-esteem, press Three.
Hello? Gunner Parkins, here.
And what can I do for you, lovely boy?
I'm not sure I'm cut out for this soldiering lark, Sarn't Major. Someone took a picture of us rough handling some rioters who were throwing grenades at us, and even though we'd done nothing wrong it made us look bad and now we're being accused of torture and war crimes and everything.
Nonsense. You've got a fine pair of shoulders. Show 'em off, show 'em off. But if I were you I'd get yourself a decent lawyer and don't answer the door to anyone from the Daily Mirror. Next! If you is calling from the Territorial Reserve, press Four.
Private Pike here. Walmington-on-Sea Home Guard, stationed in Kandahar. Mr Mainwaring says I can't wear my scarf on manoeuvres but my mum says I've got to or else I'll catch my death of cold out in these mountains. You know what the Afghan winter is like. It goes right through you.
And he says it's too dangerous for me to have the Tommy Gun, but how am I expected to fight the Taliban with a carving knive on the end of a broomstick, that's what I want to know, 'cos none of those new self-loading rifles work and the boots are rubbish, too, and the helicopter taking us to the Tora Bora broke down again. Why can't I have one of those big sabres like Errol Flynn had in The Charge Of The Light Brigade, eh? And anyway, if we're supposed to be liberating them and bringing them democracy, then why are they always shooting at us?
Stupid boy.
I'm telling my Uncle Arthur.
SHUT UP! If you is calling with a genuine grievance, press Five.
Hello? I'm serving with the SAS in Iraq.
Now you is talking.
Anyway, it's like this. I'm a member of a unit which has just staged a daring raid to free some British and Canadian hostages being held by Al Qaeda terrorists.
That's what I call soldiering.
Thing is, you see, no one has said "thank you" to us and that's well out of order. I think I should sue.
So do I, lovely boy. I suggest you contact General Sir Mike Jackson. You could be entitled to compensation.