Sven Goes to War. Part 8. The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy
Sven left for Basic Training with a rucksack stuffed with items from Delicious Gifts; a stick of Happy Holidays rock (12p), a willy warmer with his name stitched on it in lime green wool (99p), an emergency tin of corned beef hash (52p), a set of commemorative beer mats each one displaying a significant site from the Saltburn-by-the-Sea – nuclear power plant, The Jolly Fishermen Public House, Lunatic Asylum Up On the Hill, derelict train station, public toilets on the front where the dirty old men hung out under the guise of holding seances (18p), a porcelain seal its beady black eyes seeming always to follow the viewer (£2), a triangular flag on a pink plastic stick that flapped gaily in the wind (8p), a polished winkle shell with the name of the town embossed on it in gold lettering (5p), a novelty pencil rubber in the shape of Count Dracula (15p), Michael Jackson’s Thriller on cassette (99p), a keyring fob in the shape of a magnet (25p), a fridge magnet displaying a view of the nuclear power station from across the mudflats (80p), a lucky 1p piece sold for use in Ginny’s Palace (8p), and (a replacement for the precious gift his dad had given him but had been misplaced at The Swiss Card Sharp Summer School (in fact Sven had shoved it so far up Bert the Boxer from Boosbeck’s bum no one had been over keen to go in and look for it)) the Talk ‘o’ the Town CoTMgolfball-sized man’s head fixed to the small plug which you could put up your bum to make it look as if a person was crawling out of your anus (£3.05).
Although Mary and Eddie had believed he was throwing away his life and do you know what you are doing to us going off to fight in a bloody stupid war?, they had demurred when he had said over and over that my will is resolute and that if he was a soldier he would probably stop wearing women’s clothes, although this, he knew, was a lie.
Why couldn’t he be a soldier in a dress?
The Basic Training Barracks were in the SouthTM and from his train window Sven looked in awe as fields of wheat, barley and oats, donkeys with bits of straw sticking from their mouths, changed to wide multi-lane motorways, tall gleaming skyscrapers, huge shopping malls with car parks filled with row upon row of shining cars, bars affixed to their fronts for marauding bulls to bounce off during a stampede, racks on the backs for attaching cycles, motorbikes, go-karts, boxes on the top to store canoes, kayaks, tents, inflatable dinghies. They were, Sven mused, the Swiss Army knife of cars, perfectly equipped to deal with every situation you were unlikely to find yourself in.
The barracks themselves were in an old lighthouse and adjacent sprat packing factory requisitioned for army use. Buildings, Sven thought, that seemed to mock him from the outset with their ramshackle inappropriateness; the caved in windows of the factory, the peeling façade of the lighthouse tower, the lugubrious careworn face of the sergeant who answered the door, the fishy smell emanating from within, the racks of triple bunks clearly visible from the doorway, the five other recruits mooning him gaily from the light part of the lighthouse tower, their insults carried down on the wind, fag, faggotty, faggot.
The Basic Training he learnt the following morning, after a sleepless night during which, for a prank, his bed covers had been pulled off and a kind of yellow dye had been tipped over his head and body so he now somewhat resembled a lemon, was to take place in the hills and woods behind the lighthouse and on the long flat beach which had been cordoned off to stop day trippers, well wishers, holidaymakers and other general busybodies straying onto a place where there would be Live Munitions.
Watch Out!, said evenly placed signs positioned along the perimeter, Loss of Limb Likely Past This Point. Keep Away!
There were five other young men sharing the barracks with Sven, each one taller than him and sporting the ripped abs and buzz cut haircuts of the Anatomically Correct Commando Dolls (£9.99), his parents Eddie and Mary used to sell from the top shelf of their shop, strategically positioned next to Nude Women in Combat, Fishermen’s Wives, Boating Beauties.
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Before he had met Stanley, Sven had had many erotic fantasies with and about his Anatomically Correct Commando Doll, given to him by his father in a brown paper bag in the bin alley behind Ginny’s Palace, the rendezvous organised via a Post-it note secreted at the bottom of a crisp packet slipped under his bedroom door and with the mysterious words, along with the time and place of the rendezvous, come in disguise.
He had gone as the Shah of Iran, bastardising an old lobster pot and two of his mother’s best sheets, and before he had even got halfway to Ginny’s Palace he had caused quite a furore among the local fishermen; Yermolai Yemelyanovich Yevseyev still dining out on the story to this day, claiming, he said, that he thought we were being invaded by aliens.
In the weeks after first receiving the doll Sven had sometimes got through a week’s supply of jizzTM in a single afternoon bunked off school and because of his desire to get (the money to buy) more jizz he had committed his only ever crime, rolling PC Ivan Gorenski and fiddling in his pockets for cash as he stumbled quite drunk and incapable one night out of The Jolly Fishermen. Ever since PC Ivan Gorenski had found the Bones brothers with their legs and willies half cut off he had become quite the boozer and he was always being rolled.
That was how he had met his, soon to be future, wife.
Having always wanted to marry someone from the law and order but never having much luck, Birgitta Berglund, having heard all about PC Gorenski had simply waited for him one night outside The Jolly Fishermen rolled him into a wheelbarrow, rolled him to her home, stripped him off and placed him quite naked in her bed.
Oh yes, she said, when he awoke the next day, he quite bleary-eyed, she quite naked next to him, your love making and passion were prodigious. Then she showed him the love bites all across her body, self-inflicted via oyster shells with a Biro sized hole made in them and a sucking machine of her own devising, and she said she had never met someone with such a hot, hungry mouth and if he wanted she would be his to suck on forever.
High praise indeed for Gorenski had never been much of a lover, women put off by the six fingers he had on each hand and the fact he could only obtain downward erections. And the next day Gorenski had turned up quite willingly at Berglund’s door, a bunch of flowers under his left arm and a proposal he knew that he wouldn’t regret.
Happy, simpler days indeed and ones Sven was already nostalgic for.
He didn’t like the look of the other recruits.
He had a feeling he was in for trouble.
The Andrews Sisters - The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy - https://youtu.be/OfWc52smNs8
Image from Pixabay - https://pixabay.com/photos/euphonium-brass-instrument-93865/