A lot of you young uns don't remember the cold war of the 50's, and so no one gets confused I mean 1854, the Crimean war which was bloody cold, my balls were not bitter back then they were frozen, in fact they didn't thaw out fully until the 1980's but it did do incredible things for my sperm count , oh yeah I made money hand over fist in the 80's, god bless sperm banks, my jizz was in so much demand I had a Swiss bank account for my deposits. I was black balled by the local prostitutes due to my virility, no being black balled by a hoor is not some deprived sexual act, you're thinking of being golf balled.
During my soldiering years I had done my share of marching into battle and my feet said "no more" well actually my feet can't talk but they do bark, anyway *my dogs were barking * so I joined the cavalry , the Royal Scots dragoon Guards to be exact, you may know them as the Scots Greys.
Way back in 1815 at waterloo I had pulled the legs of many a frog and took a French Imperial Eagle as a prize, we so kicked cheese eating surrender monkey ass that day. Of course I didn't get to keep the eagle they went and put it on to the regimental badge and then we gained the nickname 'Bird catchers', here is something you may not know. Tsar Nicholas II of Russia was the colonel in chief of the Scots Greys and after the Bolsheviks murdered him we wore a black patch behind the badge. fascinating huh?
Kilts don't come and go in yer life, they are expensive and not many people have them so I was quite proud of mine, it was a great ice breaker for the ladies so even though I was now a Dragoon Guard I was allowed to still wear it on horse back, Old Knudsen fights like fuck and if it wasn't for my addiction to painkillers, gambling and pornography I'd have lots of medals to prove what a hero I was . They thought so much of me that I was the only trooper allowed to ride into battle side saddle, see how confident in my own sexuality I am? they didn't ask so I didn't tell.
Late October at Balaclava without a balaclava to keep me warm we were ready for action and just awaiting orders, when all of a sudden captain Louis Edward Nolan , all round twat with the waxiest moustache in town came galloping up, that cunt really fancied himself.
he gave a set of orders to our lord Cardigan (inventor of the button up pullover) from the top man lord Raglan. Cardigan said "what the fuck is he serious"? Nolan who was a little agitated because he wanted to achieve glory in battle but was stuck delivering orders said " he wants your 600 to ride down into the valley of death, into the mouth of hell and take the guns, I'll even join you if you think you can't do it".
Lord Cardigan sighed and looked around and said "ours is not to make reply, ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die" .
The very last bit caught my attention the most, um die? what the fuck? why don't they just send in the Royal Irish 4th 5th and 6th Inniskillin cannon fodder er I mean Dragoon guards. No offense to any muck savages reading but no one catches a cannon ball quite like you lot.
So we started doon to the valley of death which I must say is a shitty name, not very inspiring , Nolan went faster which was quite rude as this was Cardigan's charge so he went faster then Nolan went faster and before you knew it we were hurtling straight into the cannons. Cannons to the right of me cannons to the left of me and here I am stuck in the middle with Hugh, that was my best mate, he didn't last long, Nolan also got killed straight away, shot and shell volleyed and thundered all around us, I edged my trusty mare Old Paint onwards through the maelstrom, glad that I wasn't wearing trousers as piss trickled doon my leg.
With sabres sparkling we broke through the Russian line cutting those vodka swilling Cossacks to pieces, then turning back the way we came with cannons still firing on three sides we made it back and out of range, we regrouped to count the living, 195 left out of over 600, hardly a man left uninjured, I myself had a nasty friction rash where my scrot had rubbed against my thigh with all that galloping .
It turns out in the end that Lord Raglan meant a different set of guns on a hill to the left that he could see but from our position we couldn't see, we just blamed it on Nolan and had a good laugh about it later.
The French imperial Eagle Crest and tie.
*my feet were sore*
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smokeRight thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and RussianReel'd from the sabre stroke Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back,
but not Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of DeathBack from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.
Alfred Tennyson
During my soldiering years I had done my share of marching into battle and my feet said "no more" well actually my feet can't talk but they do bark, anyway *my dogs were barking * so I joined the cavalry , the Royal Scots dragoon Guards to be exact, you may know them as the Scots Greys.
Way back in 1815 at waterloo I had pulled the legs of many a frog and took a French Imperial Eagle as a prize, we so kicked cheese eating surrender monkey ass that day. Of course I didn't get to keep the eagle they went and put it on to the regimental badge and then we gained the nickname 'Bird catchers', here is something you may not know. Tsar Nicholas II of Russia was the colonel in chief of the Scots Greys and after the Bolsheviks murdered him we wore a black patch behind the badge. fascinating huh?
Kilts don't come and go in yer life, they are expensive and not many people have them so I was quite proud of mine, it was a great ice breaker for the ladies so even though I was now a Dragoon Guard I was allowed to still wear it on horse back, Old Knudsen fights like fuck and if it wasn't for my addiction to painkillers, gambling and pornography I'd have lots of medals to prove what a hero I was . They thought so much of me that I was the only trooper allowed to ride into battle side saddle, see how confident in my own sexuality I am? they didn't ask so I didn't tell.
Late October at Balaclava without a balaclava to keep me warm we were ready for action and just awaiting orders, when all of a sudden captain Louis Edward Nolan , all round twat with the waxiest moustache in town came galloping up, that cunt really fancied himself.
he gave a set of orders to our lord Cardigan (inventor of the button up pullover) from the top man lord Raglan. Cardigan said "what the fuck is he serious"? Nolan who was a little agitated because he wanted to achieve glory in battle but was stuck delivering orders said " he wants your 600 to ride down into the valley of death, into the mouth of hell and take the guns, I'll even join you if you think you can't do it".
Lord Cardigan sighed and looked around and said "ours is not to make reply, ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die" .
The very last bit caught my attention the most, um die? what the fuck? why don't they just send in the Royal Irish 4th 5th and 6th Inniskillin cannon fodder er I mean Dragoon guards. No offense to any muck savages reading but no one catches a cannon ball quite like you lot.
So we started doon to the valley of death which I must say is a shitty name, not very inspiring , Nolan went faster which was quite rude as this was Cardigan's charge so he went faster then Nolan went faster and before you knew it we were hurtling straight into the cannons. Cannons to the right of me cannons to the left of me and here I am stuck in the middle with Hugh, that was my best mate, he didn't last long, Nolan also got killed straight away, shot and shell volleyed and thundered all around us, I edged my trusty mare Old Paint onwards through the maelstrom, glad that I wasn't wearing trousers as piss trickled doon my leg.
With sabres sparkling we broke through the Russian line cutting those vodka swilling Cossacks to pieces, then turning back the way we came with cannons still firing on three sides we made it back and out of range, we regrouped to count the living, 195 left out of over 600, hardly a man left uninjured, I myself had a nasty friction rash where my scrot had rubbed against my thigh with all that galloping .
It turns out in the end that Lord Raglan meant a different set of guns on a hill to the left that he could see but from our position we couldn't see, we just blamed it on Nolan and had a good laugh about it later.
The French imperial Eagle Crest and tie.*my feet were sore*
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smokeRight thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and RussianReel'd from the sabre stroke Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back,
but not Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of DeathBack from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.
Alfred Tennyson
