This is not a joke (it's not even that funny!) but whilst nattering with a friend last night I was reminded of this incident which took place eons ago when I was in the army. I have a feeling that I might have told you this before but, hell, old men, and especially old soldiers, always repeat themselves!
The army, for reasons known only to the 'Brass', have, or at least had, an annual event in which various loonies, who would have been much better off in a pub, paddled canoes down the entire length of the River Thames. Yeeeees, quite! Anyway, for some reason the signals platoon in my battalion, of which I was a proud member, was despatched in small groups to man communication points along the course, presumably in case any of the loonies fell in the river where, given that most of them were probably marines, they could bloody well stay as far as I was concerned! My particular point was Teddington Lock in south west London. We duly arrived at the crack of dawn and set ourselves up. Having fed the swans and ducks with our crap ration packs I set off down the road at lunchtime to find a pub - natch! I entered the first one I came to - and stopped dead in my tracks. The place was packed and to my right was what looked like Robin Hood and his merry band of men, over to the left was a collection of Victorian gentlemen and ladies and intermingled with them were various people dressed in sort of space-age suits.
I began to wonder if my mate had slipped something in my tea but then the penny dropped - of course, Teddington! - then the home of British Film and TV studios. These were all luvvies having a lunch break in costume. Anyway, I made my way to the bar and ordered a pint. Standing next to me was 'a nun' in the full, old-fashioned regalia you never see these days. Her religious effect was somewhat spoiled by a very large gin and tonic in one hand and a fag in the other. I noticed she was looking at me in my camouflaged smock and red beret and as she was quite good-looking I thought I might get lucky so I gave her a smile. She leaned towards me and in her husky, actressy voice asked, "Are you a real paratrooper, darling, or an actor?" Modestly, I admitted that I was the real thing whilst inwardly exulting that I had pulled! She nodded, smiled knowingly and said, "I thought so, darling, your finger nails are dirty".
