is a good chap. But he is a Drill Sergeant now, in charge of training troops for the elite bombardiers squad.’
‘I know them!’ said Nanny Piggins, surprising the Colonel because generally Nanny Piggins was not well versed on anything to do with the military. (She thought his medals were a collection of rare chocolate coins he had picked up on his travels.) ‘The bombardiers are the ones who wear those jaunty brown berets, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, actually they are,’ said Bert the Drill Sergeant. ‘Only men who have completed the arduous training program have the privilege of wearing the brown beret.’
‘More accessories should come with arduous requirements,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘If men were required to do fifty jumping jacks before they put on a fedora, perhaps the extra oxygen flow to their brain would make them realise how silly they looked.’
‘Anyway, the problem is,’ continued the Drill Sergeant, deciding it was better not to try to follow Nanny Piggins’ logic, ‘we are not getting the quality of recruits we used to get.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘It’s young people today,’ explained the Colonel. ‘They’re all wishy-washy.’
‘They are?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘To be strictly fair,’ said the Drill Sergeant, ‘I have been a Drill Sergeant for twenty years now and in that time the recruits have always been wishy-washy.’
‘I suppose that young people with lots of initiative and enthusiasm prefer to go into more active fields, like confectionary research and ice-cream making,’ guessed Nanny Piggins. ‘The military would be too dull for them.’
‘The problem is that the rules have changed,’ explained the Drill Sergeant. ‘We’re not allowed to do any of the things we used to do to motivate the raw young recruits.’
‘What sort of things did you used to do?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘Make them stand in the rain, force them to do push-ups and yell mean names at them right in their faces,’ said the Drill Sergeant.
‘I see,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘That doesn’t sound terribly pleasant.’
‘But if you don’t yell at them they don’t do as they’re told,’ complained the Drill Sergeant. ‘Last week when I told them to clean the latrines (army-speak for toilets) with their toothbrushes, they all ran away and hid behind the mess hall (army-speak for dining room).’
‘That shows good evasive instincts,’ approved Nanny Piggins. ‘Heading for the nearest source of food.’
‘Yes, but when I chased after them,’ said the Drill Sergeant, ‘I slipped over on a potato and tore my Achilles tendon.’
‘Vegetables cause so much pain,’ said Nanny Piggins sadly, shaking her head. ‘So why have you come to me for help?’
‘Because the army needs troops with bravery, gusto, athleticism, strategic thinking and an appetite for violence,’ explained the Colonel. ‘Which made me think of you.’
‘Why, Colonel,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘I think that is the most romantic thing you have ever said to me.’ For the first time since they had known each other the Colonel had made Nanny Piggins blush.
‘We were hoping you could join my unit, fill in for me as a temporary Drill Sergeant and lead the troops by example,’ said the Drill Sergeant. ‘They’ve got important war games coming up in two weeks. I don’t mind if they don’t win, but I don’t want them to embarrass me in front of the other Drill Sergeants.’
‘Go on, say you’ll do it,’ pleaded the Colonel. ‘Show them how a warrior should behave.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I am tremendously busy. I’m running for mayor and I was planning to roast marshmallows this afternoon.’
‘But this will help your mayoral campaign!’ exclaimed the Colonel. ‘Voters love a candidate with a military track record.’
‘Really?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘It might help them overlook your criminal record,’ suggested Derrick.
‘I don’t know,’
‘I know them!’ said Nanny Piggins, surprising the Colonel because generally Nanny Piggins was not well versed on anything to do with the military. (She thought his medals were a collection of rare chocolate coins he had picked up on his travels.) ‘The bombardiers are the ones who wear those jaunty brown berets, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, actually they are,’ said Bert the Drill Sergeant. ‘Only men who have completed the arduous training program have the privilege of wearing the brown beret.’
‘More accessories should come with arduous requirements,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘If men were required to do fifty jumping jacks before they put on a fedora, perhaps the extra oxygen flow to their brain would make them realise how silly they looked.’
‘Anyway, the problem is,’ continued the Drill Sergeant, deciding it was better not to try to follow Nanny Piggins’ logic, ‘we are not getting the quality of recruits we used to get.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘It’s young people today,’ explained the Colonel. ‘They’re all wishy-washy.’
‘They are?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘To be strictly fair,’ said the Drill Sergeant, ‘I have been a Drill Sergeant for twenty years now and in that time the recruits have always been wishy-washy.’
‘I suppose that young people with lots of initiative and enthusiasm prefer to go into more active fields, like confectionary research and ice-cream making,’ guessed Nanny Piggins. ‘The military would be too dull for them.’
‘The problem is that the rules have changed,’ explained the Drill Sergeant. ‘We’re not allowed to do any of the things we used to do to motivate the raw young recruits.’
‘What sort of things did you used to do?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘Make them stand in the rain, force them to do push-ups and yell mean names at them right in their faces,’ said the Drill Sergeant.
‘I see,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘That doesn’t sound terribly pleasant.’
‘But if you don’t yell at them they don’t do as they’re told,’ complained the Drill Sergeant. ‘Last week when I told them to clean the latrines (army-speak for toilets) with their toothbrushes, they all ran away and hid behind the mess hall (army-speak for dining room).’
‘That shows good evasive instincts,’ approved Nanny Piggins. ‘Heading for the nearest source of food.’
‘Yes, but when I chased after them,’ said the Drill Sergeant, ‘I slipped over on a potato and tore my Achilles tendon.’
‘Vegetables cause so much pain,’ said Nanny Piggins sadly, shaking her head. ‘So why have you come to me for help?’
‘Because the army needs troops with bravery, gusto, athleticism, strategic thinking and an appetite for violence,’ explained the Colonel. ‘Which made me think of you.’
‘Why, Colonel,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘I think that is the most romantic thing you have ever said to me.’ For the first time since they had known each other the Colonel had made Nanny Piggins blush.
‘We were hoping you could join my unit, fill in for me as a temporary Drill Sergeant and lead the troops by example,’ said the Drill Sergeant. ‘They’ve got important war games coming up in two weeks. I don’t mind if they don’t win, but I don’t want them to embarrass me in front of the other Drill Sergeants.’
‘Go on, say you’ll do it,’ pleaded the Colonel. ‘Show them how a warrior should behave.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I am tremendously busy. I’m running for mayor and I was planning to roast marshmallows this afternoon.’
‘But this will help your mayoral campaign!’ exclaimed the Colonel. ‘Voters love a candidate with a military track record.’
‘Really?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘It might help them overlook your criminal record,’ suggested Derrick.
‘I don’t know,’
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