Andy Mcnab
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>>By Nomad (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 13:44)
Your writing remains of constant and high quality Babes :o)
>>By Lynn (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 13:52)
Worthy <<<<APPLAUSE>>>>> B.A.B.E.S...
This is a funny piece about chick-lit (teen girl/20 age group books) and I guess it as good as equates in context to teen boy books.
"Rubbishing chic-lit has been the lazy critics' way of taking a cheap shot for a long time, but now it's getting past a joke. Why is it that every book writtten about the confusing and often difficult lives of young women these days is lumped under the banner 'chic-lit' and then sneered at?" author Jenny Colgan.
Personal like, I'd say it has one heck of a lot to do with the fact that "most chic-lit/boyzone books" are written by wo/men over 40 and more often than not, 50yrs old...Half the so-called street wise language and girly chit-chat is from a bygone era: the authors own teen years. Kids of the 50s -60s era were brought up in a post-war time-warp of 40s style author works compared to kids of today and the shocking (I mean shocking) language, phrases bandied around on the mean streets of today and within text messaging...
Please note MG this is public domain material:
Snipit overview of New York Times article: Headline - Who Are They Kidding?
"The New York Times was scornful about many celebrities who turn their attention to writing children's books thinking 'there was lots of money and publicity to be made in kid-lit'. But not everyone is up to the job.
'A handful of celebrities like John Lithgow and Jamie Lee Curtis, actually have a gift for writing for children: they know how to tell a story and how to tell it with words and pictures and whimsical wit.
'For others, children's books are just another way to merchandise themselves, another vanity production: Britney books, along with Britney dolls, Britney cellphones and Britney mouse pads.'
The article criticised the celebrities for serving up 'trite lessons', attempting to 'reinvent their images or jump-start a stalled career'.
Wuh, the New York Times article was pretty damn scathing of jaded celebs revamping themselves as kiddy-wink trend-setters...
Does the above bode well for AM's teen books and future reviews/critiques of his new line in kid lit? How much personal advertising will he need to put his back into - like contacting magazines and newspapers for drop-in interviews - to get his kid-lit books noticed, because unless a writer has a besotted lit agent or editor (secret admirer) on their case and promoting them big-time with posters on the underground, posters on back of London buses etc., an author venturing into new genre ground can find themselves so crucified by the critics that their adult writing career may suffer as a consequence.
Being a celebrity is one thing, being a writer another, so maybe AM will top the charts with kid-lit, seeing as Dark Winter is still holding 4th place after 6wks in the Top Ten bestsellers list in The Sunday Times (UK), though it didn't make it past 3 to number 1.
Thinking about celebrity writers: dear oh dear poor Madge (Madonna), better she stick to the music scene or retire gracefully into obscurity because she can't act either. <<slaps face>> bitchy comment, but I do like most of her music and admire the way she revamped herself several times over in the music genre.
Here's a writer's confession: 'Living with a writer must be so horrible that it is a wonder anyone chooses to do it. For a start, I have yet to meet even the nicest of us who is not, at heart, a kind of monster. How but through utter selfishness, arrogance, single-mindedness and bloody-mindedness would a book ever be written. Signed: Amanda Craig.
Imagine what it might be like living with AM - all that jumping off sofas and shadow fighting...
>>By buddy (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 14:00)
On the subject of kid-lit: Sorry, this is a funny, and probably will cause a little seething backstage about off-topic subjects, so I'm posting this in the belief that it will be pruned and shredded.
'Instead of making stupid jokes about Adolph Hitler, the most unfunny person who ever lived, English people should cast their minds back to the days of the brothers Grimm. In those days Germany led the world in the one thing that most matters - delighting children.'
Yeah, and scaring them half to death with fairy tales about witches with houses bedecked with sweets and cages inside to keep little boys and girls in before eating 'em all up!!! Or was that Andersens Fairy Tales? And 'we' had Dhal to scare the pants of us as well. Ha, ha, hope AM is reading this and will bear in mind kids like scary stuff, but they do quite like to sleep at night not live in fear of shadows lurking and a bunch of kids loitering on a street corner to bash hell out of them come morning.
>>By buddy (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 14:03)
ready for your first fix? here goes chapter 5
5. Exfil
We had seen the lake on the map before, and had always kept it as a possible infil/exfil route, but were now faced with the cold hard facts. The lake was about 400 meters in diameter and had a small island in the middle of it. The map showed no significant problems getting there, but when we got there, we saw that there was in fact a 3 meter cliff which we had to jump off. Mike, the biggest guy, jumped in first, and with a loud crack, went right through the ice. He reappeared and got up and after enlarging the hole a bit, rolled away. We jumped in preparing for the cold welcome the water was about to give us, but nothing prepares you to that instant kick in the head. Suddenly everything goes black as you go under the water, and your face is the first part of your body that gets the good news. Then, just as you realize you're in the water, your clothes let everything through. Another kick in the head. It's as if you've run out on a freeway and been hit by a car, only to realize that it's bumped you into the other lane, into a bus. The lake wasn't more than 2 meters deep at that point, so we could easily get up from it by taking a good kick from the bottom. As Tom got up from the cold wet grave as last man, he told us that the driver would stay there. He wasn't coming along. In unison we showed him the international sign of clenching your fist, and extending the longest finger. We crawled on the cold ice for a long way, until we felt that we could get off the ice, and into the cover of the forest. The lake was in the complete opposite direction of where we had our stash, and the lake put in an extra 3 km to our hike back. Our clothes were soaking wet and cold. Two of death's children had been invited for the ride. We took our clothes off, and squeezed the water out of them. We had to keep our temperature up, and adrenaline doesn't come with an 'off' button, so we started running. We stealthily ran the whole way to our stash and sorted ourselves out. When we had been on CTR, the Jones had made a thermos full of warm coffee, which tasted better than anything I'd ever tasted before. The stolen documents had been in a minigrip bag, so they had survived the water experience. When we got our stuff together, we headed out from there. It was now almost 0600, and we were all very pleased with our efforts. We covered a good distance, to get as far away in those 90 minutes we had before transmitting. at 7.30, our lead scout found a good place where to put our id-zone, and we fox-looped to a good place and got in contact with HQ. We wondered if we'd get a lift back by chopper or APC... The response was: 'Your location compromized, proceed with E&E to these coordinates. We'll tell you if you've made the deadline when you get there. Don't use roads.'
We were funked over allright. On my 1:50 000 map, we were at the bottom right, and our next RV was just about as far as you could get in the top left corner. 55k to tab, and we had to be there by yesterday. The adrenaline had started to wear off, and the E&E was another blow to morale, but we had to be there, and the sooner we started, the sooner we'd be there. We started out, but we soon had to quicken our pace, having to tab in the woods, instead of on the road. Every now and then we saw a jeep pass on the road. The clouds had started to gather again, and the temperature rose. From -25 in the night, it was now around -3. We'd covered about 35k's at last light, which was around 15.30, and we decided to have a break. Our first real break all day. We checked our bergens, to see what kind of food we had left. We had a good speed and a good sweat going on, so we decided we wouldn't stop for long, and just eat our food cold, and save time. After the break, we continued, tabbing in the forest next to the road, until we finally reached the CP at 0100. The people there had huge fires going, and were chatting away and barbecuing food, and we heard TV's and radios blasting out news and music. I reported to our CO and he welcomed us back with a nice 'what took you so long? got lost? the water was warm, I presume?' I handed over the documents and I was just about to leave, when he said 'oh, just one more thing'. All he needed was an ugly brown coat and a carwreck and he'd be Columbo. 'Here's your new map, take good care of it'. I looked at it, a blank piece of paper. 'Coordinates are here. Get Pete in to connect the dots. Time: 24h and counting'. I put on my best smile and thanked him, and walked out. Pete came back after 15 minutes and he'd drawn a sketchy map onto the paper and gave us all his best grin before he told us the good news. '60 down, 60 to go'. Our CO and our armourer came to us with a large plastic bag with food and 3 jerrycans of water and we thought it was christmas. He told us to open up our bergens, and empty all food into the bag. We'd obviously been very naughty that year and weren't on the receiving end. How wrong I was. What we got was a lump of coal, or water rather. Three of them, at 10kgs a pop. We cleared everything out from the bergens, and started distributing stuff. When we were packed, and set to go, Columbo came back with another 'just one more thing'. A tent. 2 anti-tank mines, half a dozen LAW's, 3 claymores and dozen pipemines. 'Just in case you run into anymore trouble'.
We'd been VERY naughty that year...
>>By trident (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 14:18)
"Being a celebrity is one thing, being a writer another"
Yeah but celebrities get the book deals because of their celebrity. Easier to promote them than an unknown quantity. That sounds bitter, can't quite decide whether it should be.
>>By Bethan (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 14:19)
Cross posted with you Trident, I really like this series, keep them coming.
>>By Bethan (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 14:34)
Bethan: don't think it's bitterness, not when other bestselling writers who made it to the top from slushpile say much the same as the great unpublished, after all, celebrities are often that, celebrity, for the wrong reasons, ie; boozy, bawdy, not very talented (in some cases), womanisers or tarts, or suffering that terrible affliction like Michael Douglas: Addicted to sex, ha, ha, but now he's got a Welsh mam for a wife his pants have been cut off at the knees!!
Former MI5 director-general Stella Rimmington, who also wrote her memoirs, "Open secret" (under storm of protest from the establishment), has written a spy thriller "At Risk". Hutchinson, her publishers, have commissioned a second novel...
(Par for the course in respect of 'controversial celebrity profiling' and, band-wagon jumping by publishers)
One wonders how many once secret espionage techniques will be outed under the auspices of fiction with publisher/author cop-out clause: "any character resembling persons in real life is purely coincidental" along with as near as damn it:"named places are purely to give air of authenticity" etc.
How closely will her former department and working environment be to that encountered by Nick Stone, because there is very little to choose between any one of the individual SIS departments. Her book could be a good clue as to the authenticity of AM's character NS, and whether NS reflects AM's working environment for British Intelligence and U.S. Intelligence Units, or whether NS is purely a fictious character based on fictious aspirations beyond 14th Intel. Comparison of books by known Intel directors/operators can give credence to books by ex operators, in much the same way a London cabbie (Black Taxis) do the knowledge before they get the ticket to drive...
>>By buddy (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 16:32)
fictitious.
>>By buddy (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 16:37)
Any comments on AM's view of the capture of Saddam :
http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/allnews/
page.cfm?objectid=13728867&method=full
>>By borisette (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 16:55)
Re AM's Daily Mirror piece:
Snipit: "He will be afforded the Geneva Convention." AM is talking capture of Saddam.
Don't bet on it mate, he's not in British/European custody.
"Suspected" Al Qaeda warriors held at Guantanamo Bay (terrorism not proven - no trial etc.,) are not receiving treatment according to the Geneva Convention, so what makes AM think Saddam will be treated any differently?
Whether we think he should be dead or not, that he dishonoured himself by not committing suicide is neither here nor there despite his record of known atrocities to his fellow countrymen. If he was legally tried in Europe he would live regardless of the verdict, if he's tried in Iraq it won't wash American or Allied forces hands clean of his death, not in the eyes of those who will continue to fight the cause to rid Iraq of invaders...Gulf War 2 need never have happened if Gulf War 1 had been fought on the same principal of so-called Freedom from Saddam for Iraqis, as quoted so oft during GW2.
What a terrible waste of lives twice over for the end that is, a man found in a hole!!
>>By buddy (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 19:45)
6. E&E
An antitank mine looks like a huge cheese. a cylinder shaped thing about 50 cm in diameter and a pressure switch that goes off to blast 10kgs of hardened PE into the tracks of the unlucky sod. Claymores are great, if you point them the right way round, but a fiendishly hard to get to fit anywhere. We were very close to putting one next to the CO's tent and testing it. Pipe mines are about 30 cm long pipes a bit thinner than your wrist, that weigh in at 100 grams each. We unpacked again, and started repacking to distribute the weight evenly. When we finished,
I couldn't lift the damn bergen up. The only way was to lie down, strap it on, and have two guys help you up. Quasimodo's hump seemed like a wart compared to our backs. As we were leaving, we sincerely hoped that no more surprises would turn up. After 5 minutes, one did. Our CO gave us all 4 chocolate bars to last the next day. At first light, the weather turned foggy. It was foggy until noon, and then it started raining, and blowing - hard. The rain didn't fall like it's supposed to, but it came horizontally. The rain kept beating us to the ground for the better part of the day. With a huge frontal wind, it seemed that for every step forward, you actually went 2 backwards. We stopped at last light and had a quick bite to eat from our myriad of different kinds of food. Let's see, there's chocolate, and oh yes, more chocolate. No one ever checked our pockets, and I had instant coffee in bags, which i ate. The only thing that kept me going was thinking of CR's E&E, and his biscuits. At least we had water. Plenty of it. At least we thought we did. Out of the three jerrycans, two were leaking heavily, and were practically empty by the time we realized it. The
bergens were drenched and we really felt that we were the most miserable people on the face of the earth. We didn't have to stay off the roads anymore, but that joy was soon to become less fun, there were soon more blisters than foot in your shoes. About 20k's before the CP we left the road to and headed into the woods, trying to find a spot marked on our piece of paper. There was wet snow up to our knees, and we had to rotate the lead scout every 15 minutes so that a fresh man could come and plough the way. Graveyards have been more cheerful than our moods, but we were dedicated to make our deadline. We came to the CP at half past midnight after having run the last 5k's to make up for our incompetence. The welcome wasn't quite what we'd expected. After we got our kit off, our instructors gave us a 10 minute head start before the dogs were sent out. We each had to get to different locations by the sea where we'd be picked up, and it'd be the end of the exercise. The locations were about 10k's away. The area where we were in was quite familiar to us, so we knew some short cuts down to the sea. We ran like bats out of hell. Every step was as painful as walking on glass. We ceased to be a squad, and it was each man for himself. This was more a test of willpower than physical power. It's amazing how fast you can go with the right incentive. 10 k's, and we'd go home. A shower seemed like the best place on earth. I got to the sea, where there was a ski-doo waiting for me. Finally, the end! Suddenly four guys with masks came up from behind me and put me in my place. They removed my webbing and weapon, gagged and blindfolded me and cuffed me to the sled at the back of the ski-doo.
>>By trident (Tuesday, 16 Dec 2003 20:34)
Man-oh-man, Trident! Just caught up on all your chapters in one fell swoop...
Hurry! Hurry! Can't hang onto this cliff much longer!!!
>>By am-i-binned (Wednesday, 17 Dec 2003 00:01)
Cross-post for those who don't keep an eagle eye on the CR board
For anyone interested in CR's teen books (content) - he's knocking them out fast alongside his adult stream and not the least bit detrimental to the quality of adult books, as testified to on the CR board.
http://books.fantasticfiction.co.uk/
n11/n58126.htm?authorid=15818
Wow, AM has some serious catching up to do with teen books...CR has got a strapping head-start...Still, you must all know the story of the Hare and the Tortoise, and the outcome!
AIB: "Can't hang onto this cliff much longer!!!"
Whatever happened to F-Troop's ever-ready status - tackle the very latest in fashionware, crampons, etc., not to mention latest shade of cam-cream...
Hold on, the men just need that extra time for multi-tasking, and a lot of loving and understanding...
>>By buddy (Wednesday, 17 Dec 2003 12:07)
Thanks to Anova for this pic of gun that SAS are using - shoots round corners.
http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_847668.html
>>By buddy (Wednesday, 17 Dec 2003 12:28)
Hee, hee, Viggo Mortensen is getting in some practical English lessons, could bode well for the role of Nick Stone.
Aragorn dating Merseybeat's WPC Finn?
http://www.ananova.com/news/story/
sm_847581.html?menu=news.celebrities
Check out the quirkies, too. Ross Kemp...
>>By buddy (Wednesday, 17 Dec 2003 12:44)
Stella Rimingtons autobiography is rather dull if one anticipates NS style action. But it does portray the difficult job she had of juggling mother hood and being DG of MI5 very well. I have a lot of respect for SR and will try out her novel.
The 'signed' Dark Winter was on a shelf among lots of Christmas books signed (allegedly) by the authors - not a random find. I just took it to a quiet corner in Waterstones and read away, before placing under a pile of books where nobody goes - may go back and purchase in new year if a copy does not appear in stocking.
Picked up another copy in tesco's (unsigned) this time last night and continued to read. Interesting plot line.
re the comments about neck breaking made by Borrisette, it can be very irritating - and spoil an otherwise good story when details lack authenticity or are factually just wrong. You'll all think I am really sad now when I tell you the example that I have...
In The watchman (I know I know this is CR, but the point was made here first)
when Alex is in the river waiting for the Watchman to arrive (just before the big action scene) he watches some insects - to pass the time. I was disappointed to see him (CR) make a huge entomological error - misidentification of pond skaters and waterboatmen - the difference is glaringly obvious. I don't normally nit pick - but this irritated the hell out of me for a long time.
The pond skater is a surface tension dwelling beasty while the Water boatman (or Corixae - to give it it's Sunday name) is exclusively sub aquatic - more akin to your SBS fella usually found hanging by a bubble from it's derriere sub surface. right I've made my point I'll shut up now. Did anyone else notice this ;-)
>>By Nomad (Wednesday, 17 Dec 2003 12:53)
7. Captured!
I woke up feeling like a bag of sh*t. I couldn't feel my feet, and I was freezing cold. The last thing I remember from before I fell asleep was the sound of the ski-doo. Now we were somewhere else, and the silence was deafening. The only thing I could hear was the sound of pants, from people shuffling around in the snow, unloading what I presume were the others. Four hands came and grabbed me and stood me up. I was lead into a room, and was searched. They took my watch, last chocolate bar, my compass, and everything else I had in my pockets, and gave me a piece of paper in an envelope. Nobody said a word, and they pushed me around a bit. They opened my shoelaces and took them away. They took me outside again, and lead me into a cell with a metal door. The guards led me down some stairs, and left me on a pile of hay. Then they shut the door with fearsome power, making the whole cell echo. I could feel the darkness on the other side of the blindfold, and must have dozed off. I hadn't slept since thursday, and it was now sunday sometime around 04.00. I woke up when two guards came and took me into another room and sat me down into a chair and started asking questions. It felt like being hit from every direction at once with various 'What were you doing at the harbour?' 'What is your mission' 'Who are you?' 'Where are you from?' questions. I said nothing. They got tired with me after a while, and took me back to my cell. I started thinking about what had gone wrong, if anything. I hadn't really realized how tired and hungry I was, and the next thing I knew were hands grabbing me again, putting me in an upright position and warning me not to fall asleep again. I tried to stay up, and when I heard the door slam shut, I waited for a while, before trying to relax a bit. I suddenly got a sharp poke in the ribs, and was put into a stress position against the wall. One of the guards must have stayed inside when they shut the door. The position was intolerable at the best of times, and I would fall down constantly. Some time later I got taken to a warm room, and got sat down in a chair. The heater must have been blasting in there, and it was the best I'd felt in a long time. I could smell coffee and freshly baked cinnamon buns. Someone had been smoking quite heavily in there, and had I been a smoker, I'd have stalled the questioning for as long as I could. They started questioning me again, and told them what I was supposed to. Name, rank, and date of birth. To any other questions, I courteously withheld the answer. I was asked over and over again the same questions, in different order. 'Who were the men with you?' 'What was you mission?' 'What is your date of birth'. 'What are your parents names?'. Someone must have had a fan blowing all the lovely coffe and cinnamon smell right into me, and after a while, a person in the room took one, and started eating it, complementing on the lovely taste, and that the coffee was also excellent, especially on such a cold night. I tried to eat the delicious air, but it didn't do any good, and I was damned if I was going to break this soon.
Various questionings went on all through sunday, and I lost count of how many times I was being jerked back and forth at the guards will. Sometimes they would accidentally walk me into a tree or into a treestub, but that was as far as it went. The interrogation style was like straight from a 'good cop - bad cop' situation, where one would yell at me and call me whatever insults he could think of, and then it stopped and another interrogator was Mr. Friendly asking if I needed anything and apologizing for the mess and what not. We never really had a cover story, so it was useless trying to invent one now. No one would ever believe 6 completely different versions. The interrogators seemed to know everything from the moment we left camp in the APC on friday, and there I was, not answering any of the allegations of a ridiculous story of 6 men destroying the most guarded compound on the coast and escaping over 135 kilometers in 3 days. They took off my cuffs to sign a paper to let the red cross know that I was fine, and one letter to my parents. At that point, I completely lost my ability to write due to not feeling a thing in my hands, so I had to decline their kind offer. Curiously enough, feeling returned to my hand immediately after they cuffed me again. Sometime during the day I was given a cold meal, and water which I thanked them for, and then proceeded with being solitary in the dark cell again. Later during more interrogations I was told that almost all the rest of us had already talked, and that they were now sleeping in a real bed, and that they'd all been in a shower already. I decided to continue with my Big Three, since atleast one of us was still left. I was damned if I wasn't the last one to give up.
I knew that Tom had been complaining about his feet, and he had really bad blisters. We tried to mend them on the way, by puncturing and draining them, and then taping the foot. Jones had had some problems with his knee for a while already, and I thought the weight on his back wasn't the best medicine for him. Late sunday night the doors opened again, and I was dragged to the interrogation room again. This time, they took my blindfold away, but had two spotlights directed right at my eyes.
The rest of the room was pitch black. I went from seeing only black, to only white. I saw three silhouettes standing behind the lights and they started asking me questions again. At the end of the questioning they told me that I could ask them one question. There was really just one thing on my mind. 'What time is it?' I asked. I was told that it was 22.00 hours on sunday. That was the best thing I'd heard all day. I'd completely lost track of time, being blindfolded, and not being to see anything. Also, I'd been so exhausted, that I'd had several naps along the way and didn't know of them. I was off by ages, thinking that it was anywhere between early monday morning to wednesday. They blindfolding me again, but removed my cuffs and took me back into the cell, and I was alone again. I was still exhausted, but now I knew what time it was, and that had raised my spirits high. I wasn't the bag of sh*t I thought I would be. The only thing I knew, is that this would stop sometime, and that I would outlast, if not the interrogators, most of my squad.
>>By trident (Wednesday, 17 Dec 2003 13:16)
Nomad, re: entomological error in "The Watchman"
Love your description pond-skaters/waterboatmen, ie,. SAS/SBS.
I've spent ages sittting beside my pond just watching the way the waterboatmen paddle their little oars, don't see many pond-skaters, not many frogs this year either, too many snakes in the grass...It's been an excellent year for young grass snakes.
Re: "I just took it to a quiet corner in Waterstones and read away, before placing under a pile of books where nobody goes - may go back and purchase in new year if a copy does not appear in stocking."
That is so wickedly school boyish to hide book...
>>By buddy (Wednesday, 17 Dec 2003 13:38)
From above...
>What a terrible waste of lives twice over for the end that is, a man >found in a hole!!
Iraq Body Count (IBC) calculations suggest the total civilian death toll from GW2 will be quadruple that of GW1...
In the initial 100 days following the ‘end of war’ declaration by Bush, more than 1000 children were injured by unexploded ordnance...
>>By bikergirl (Wednesday, 17 Dec 2003 18:55)
What has happened to Tom Pun is there any news yet
>>By scuderia (Wednesday, 17 Dec 2003 23:01)
Hi Scuderia !
Wouldn't we like to know what happened to Tom !! :o)
The magazine is available since the 11th, it's got some of our questions and there are nice pictures..
>>By Lynn (Wednesday, 17 Dec 2003 23:49)
Lynn, do we need to know what happened to Tom Pun? We were given the url of Ink, can subscribe to online if we wish, or pop along to WHS etc., and pick up a copy.
Before you say, yes but we can't all just pop along to our newsagent for a copy, I' feel sure other Brits (me inclusive) wouldn't mind picking up a few copies and sending them wherever, but of course, that would mean people having to provide personal details ie; home address. I would imagine Ink (like most magazines) has the wherewithall to send copies overseas.
We can't expect TP to post the interview for free, now can we (baited hook). Afterall, if you've created a magazine business you hope to make money, especially in its infancy. Contributors to magazines usually get a free copy, so why not try to become a contributor to INK?
>>By buddy (Thursday, 18 Dec 2003 10:06)
Nomad I'm ashamed to say I always thought pond skaters and water boatmen were the same. I hang my head.
Ooh Trident is that signature going to get you into trouble?
>>By Bethan (Thursday, 18 Dec 2003 10:33)
Several F Troop volunteers offered to send a copy, that is very kind!!
Am trying to get one of INK though because I don't want others to go to so much trouble. What happened to Tom is not a need to know, just interested :o)
>>By Lynn (Thursday, 18 Dec 2003 10:50)
Let this be a lesson to anyone who dreams of or has entertained an ex SAS man - you never know what he might be up to when he asks to use the bathroom/lav etc., or when caught suspiciously (innocently) browsing book shelves and retrieving dropped item that has supposedly rolled under a chair..
"His other hobby was electronic surveillance, the placing and operation of listening devices, information about which he consumed at the same rate as food. He'd claimed once to have a recording of a fart from every Rupert in Stirling Lines, as well as all things they said, sung or did to themselves in the privacy of their en suite bogs. He let it be known that a copy existed and had been played to a private audience in the B Squadron interest room. It was a great wind up, and led to some serious latrine searching by everyone from the CO down. The fact that they never found anything didn't reassure them. Parsnips was so good he practically had them searching up their own arse."
gratis Johnny (Two Combs) Howard "Direct Action"
Has anyone else noted similar anecdotes in other SAS novels?
Actually, there's been the odd occasion when I've carried out a rapid check for bugs, and if you have keen hearing and you're sat reading in a very quiet room, tapped phone lines have a habit of letting you know someone is trying to access your computer by remote means.
>>By buddy (Thursday, 18 Dec 2003 11:03)
I started reading direct action but I didn't get very far because some little ejit pinched my bag, pity SAS books can't defend themselves. But I do know I've got it for christmas because I found it the other day (why can't my man hide presents properly?)
>>By Bethan (Thursday, 18 Dec 2003 12:41)
About Saddam: my daughter said he looked just like a sad old grandpa and I thought so too.
I actually felt sorry for him (bad, bad Lethe!).
But maybe he practised looking pathetic just for this reason.
Anyway, I realised, again, that he's responsible for the murder of a million people, so that got rid of my pity quickly.
I hope they don't kill him though, we might learn something from people like him.
What makes them tick, I mean.
And maybe that may help humanity against other such persons.
>>By Lethe (Thursday, 18 Dec 2003 13:08)
Lethe, re your Saddam comment:" I hope they don't kill him though, we might learn something from people like him."
If only, it seems humanity has learnt little from military history...
He will no doubt be as much a hero to his followers as those of Andy McNab - similar circumstances of being caught in a hole, inevitable captivity, and torture in Saddam's case can be inflicted in such a way that no evidential proof (bruises etc.,) will show to the naked eye.
>>By buddy (Thursday, 18 Dec 2003 14:14)
"[Saddam] will no doubt be as much a hero to his followers as those of Andy McNab - similar circumstances of being caught in a hole, inevitable captivity, and torture..."
Buddy, I wanted to steer clear but I cannot.
Everyone here is entitled to personal opinions.
And I am entitled to mine -- which is -- that regardless of however broadly you might have meant your analogy to be interpreted, I adamantly object to any comparison whatsoever, including your "evidential proof" comment.
>>By am-i-binned (Thursday, 18 Dec 2003 15:20)
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