Warminster is an old, run down, dingy, inbred, dull, grey, depressing kind of town – a lot like most of its inhabitants, but the military presence here (one of the UKs “Super Garrisons; although quite honestly there isn’t anything Super about it) give us our own unique brand of Squaddiechavs, Anti-Squaddiechavs and Squaddieslapperchavettes.
It’s fashionable at the moment to respect “our boys in <insert latest war ravaged country>”, no problem with that, they’re out there fighting a crap war and getting blown up for no reason they understand and they still go anyway – which is arguably either very “brave” or very “stupid” (depending on your point of view), but clearly respect is due – and I don’t have an issue with the 90% of men and women in our forces who have the self respect to behave like human beings and not some kind of knuckle dragging neanderthals.
Sadly, the forces don’t always attract the best and the brightest – despite what you might think if you believe some of the totally ridiculous ads on TV. As a result of plumbing the depths of the rather shallow gene pools of the UKs less salubrious urban cesspits – mostly in the North – there are a (large) minority of completely and utterly numbskulled, groin pawing, incomprehensibly accented ape men in the army and most of them at some stage seem to get let loose on the streets of Warminster. Frustrated by a lack of: a. anything female under 65, b. pubs/nightclubs/cinema/fast food outlet/bowling alley/strip joint/brothel (that will let squaddies in), c. any means of communicating comprehensibly with the locals, d. any form of imagination in their pea sized brains, these inevitably resort to looting, pillaging and raping the locals.
Understandably the locals aren’t too keen on this, most respond by: a. banning squaddies from everywhere and anywhere they want to go (and quite a few places they don’t), b. locking up their wives and daughters and only letting the ugliest and most misshapen of females out in public (perhaps in the hope they’ll be taken away), c. ignoring them. However, despite an unrelenting history of having the crap beaten out of them by people who are trained to beat the crap out of people, there are the local (mostly 10-14 year old) “hard” men, “gangsta” Chav types who insist on going out dressed in bling, hoodies and the ubiquitous faux addidas trainers to “sort ’em out” – with predictable results.
Despite being some of the most hideously deformed and grotesque of creatures Warminster is also home to the Squaddiegroupiechavette. Only to be seen after dark (thank God!) these foul mouthed harridans can be observed (ideally from behind bullet proof glass as your armoured limo speeds through en route to somewhere else) from around 10PM to 7 or 8 the following morning, drinking, fighting, spewing, urinating, defecating and fornicating (sometimes all at once) in Warminster’s gloomy and litter strewn “Marketplace”. Typically on the way to work whilst sidestepping the ubiquitous pools of noxious bodily fluids, KFC cartons, beer glasses and dismembered limbs the locals are also confronted with a couple of these beached whales elegantly draped over the pavement with their skirts around their ear holes lying groaning in pools of their own filth and stale semen. Ok, the KFC cartons is a lie. They’re usually found on route back from Trowbridge and Frome….