Flabby looked at his watch and both the hands fell off onto the floor. He ripped it off and threw it against the wall and smashed it into small pieces. The Puma pilots were settled down on a row of seats and some dozed, some just scratched their parts and some still swapped moustache stories. There was still five hours to go until they were scheduled to go and Flabby thought he would let the boys get their heads down or whatever. An hour before lift off and all kit would be checked and half an hour before lift off a final check. Prendergast had gone back to the Embassy as it was Families Night for the staff and the embassy chef would knock up his masterpiece of cod and chips with mushy peas. Not quite suitable for a Kebabstani but good traditional British food washed down with bottles of Puke, the local beer which despite the name was actually quite good. It did cause some confusion as if somebody said they were going to puke, you never knew whether to dive for cover or get your bottle opener out.

The big boot fair was finally wrapping up and Flabby suddenly realised that when it came time to synchronize watches he would have a big problem so he wandered out onto the pan and tried to a find a replacement watch for his replacement for the replacement. Rikshaw came with him but the others just dozed on the seats except Smudge who had two cigarettes and a pipe on the go and didn’t want to be disturbed. The two walked down the pan eyeing up the stalls which were either packed up or in the process of packing up. Flabby spotted a stall selling watches and especially a Sieko Kinetic, a Rolls-Royce amongst watches. The stall holder wanted 120,000 burgers but Flabby wouldn’t pay more than 100,000 and a deal was struck, he paid with his SAS Visa card so as to get the Air Miles. Flabby strapped his new watch onto his wrist and stuffed the box, guarantee and instructions into his pocket disturbing a rather hungry Rab C who bit him, just in case it was food. Flabby found a stall selling some sort of cereal bar and stuffed it in his pocket whereupon Rab C ate it complete with wrapper then bit him in thanks.

The local currency, the burger was under threat as the Kebabstani government and the Kebabstani Central Bank wanted to change to the Middle Eastern Euro as currency but people were set in their ways. They could remember when Kebabstan had an empire, well not quite an empire, actually two allotments and a garden shed in nearby Turkistan but still the basis of an empire. People remembered when the grass was greener but the grass was seldom green, more a sunburnt brown and the snow was whiter but the one ski resort in Kebabstan hadn’t opened since 1890 as it hadn’t snowed since then but an elder from a small village in the region had remembered the snow was very white to start with but quickly turned shades of yellow or brown due to the appalling sanitary facilities in the area. There was to be referendum next year about changing to the ME Euro but that wouldn’t affect the two teams in the slightest.

Rikshaw wandered the rest of the boot fair and then he spotted someone. It was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. Long jet black hair flowed down onto perfect shoulders, a sublime figure and to die for legs, she was just the perfect woman and humungous teats and a great arrse as well. Rikshaw waltzed over to her and introduced himself to her, it was love and lust at first sight and had he been capable of stirring then something would have definitely stirred by now. “Hi, I’m Rikshaw” he said staring at somebody he knew he loved. It was himself as he could see his own reflection in her sunglasses. She took off her glasses and revealed beautiful almond shaped eyes, two of them as well. “Hi, I’m Fatima Charrington but you can call me Fat” she replied, her seductive mouth just oused sexuality and she had obviously had spinach recently as there was piece stuck in those perfect white teeth. :What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, using the army issue chat up line number four. She just groaned, apparently the chat up line had travelled this far already. “I’m after an artificial leg for my mum” came the answer, not quite what he had expected. “Did you find one?’ he asked. “I found a stall selling artificial legs but the stallholder had just hopped off for a minute” she replied.

The conversation carried on, neither moving, just looking into each other’s eyes which was awkward as they were almost run over by two stallholders and a bin lorry. He found out that she was a surgeon at the Mr Kipling Hospital in Falafel specializing in micro surgery. She found out he was part of a trade delegation but didn’t believe him, it was probably the SAS beret that gave the game away and the smock and the special visitor’s pass we wore which read “Guest SAS Visitor”. He found out that corporate sponsorship was huge in this part of the world and that Mr Kipling did exceedingly good hip replacements and that a local undertaker Domestos & Son buried 99% of all clients dead and that on the Audi highway going to the Doner region, Audi cars had right of way because of vorsprung durch technik. Yes it was certainly big here and the world of advertising ruled supreme.

He could feel her pressing against him and he thought he could feel something stirring and it wasn’t Rab C as he was with Flabby but then she asked him.”It was a Dremel wasn’t it?” He nodded amazed at her diagnostic skills. “And a scale model of the Tirpitz, no the Bismarck” He was gobsmacked, the accuracy of her diagnosis. He had seen doctors and he had seem books and videos and taken tablets but nothing had caused the slightest twinge but just by pressing against him she had woken feelings in him, long dormant. “I can fix it you know” she said. “And then it has to be tried out afterwards” she added seductively. He could feel his ears sticking out as the blood had to rush somewhere. “Yes, a local anesthetic, ten minutes of micro surgery and you should be ok again” He was amazed it was that easy. “When?” he asked. “Anytime you want, now even” she replied.

“Flabby!” the population of Falafel jumped as Rikshaw shouted. Flabby saw him not far away and made his way over seeing Fat for the first time, she was a stunner and what a moustache, it would have made the Puma pilots jealous to a man. Rikshaw explained and pleaded with Flabby for the chance to regain the use of the equipment for his former hobby. “If you’re not back, one hour before we go, you’re in shite street” said Flabby. He wasn’t sure if Rikshaw was going to stay behind the action at a command base or was going to come with them but since the itinerary had changed then why not go with the flow. “Ok, Rikshaw but if you’re not back don’t bother coming back” Fat and Rikshaw made their way towards the Mr Kipling Hospital and Flabby wondered why Rikshaw’s ears weere sticking out but that wasn’t that important now. He had a watch to wind up so jumped up and down on the spot attracting the attention of the locals who thought he had had too much sun or too much Puke and Rab C not taking to this, threw up his half digested cereal bar in Flabby’s pocket and then bit him at the first chance available.

It was one hour to go, eleven local time and Rikshaw had made it back and walked about with a permanent erection. “Is that going to get in the way Rikshaw?” asked Flabby. “You can’t lie on the fcuker” said Jock. “You’re not lying near me, I’m fcuked if I want to be stabbed from behind” added Knocker. “Shame we didn’t bring a flag, I know where we could hoist it” joked Nige. Rikshaw was full of himself, well not quite so full now as he had spent an hour catching up for lost time before running back poking his new found erection into any convenient hole. He had been ruthless and what had been peepholes no matter at what height, had been used for his self gratification and the local peephole community were so very glad they had brought tissues with them after Rikshaw’s performance but thought that their faces were so much softer.

The time ticked on, even Flabby’s new watch played ball though he did have to jump up and down on the spot a bit too often for his liking especially when checking the PE and the detonators. Half an hour to go and the Puma crews appeared on the scene again, no more moustache stories, they were deadly serious now, totally professional and focused on the job in hand. A technician did the final checks on the Pumas, the ashtrays were emptied, the peanut bowls topped up, the drinks cabinets replenished, the carpet hoovered, the floor waxed and the rotory things on the top counted and double counted, this was serious stuff. Rikshaw tried to check all the kit in the Pumas but kept getting caught on his erection but had mastered getting in and out of them. “Thank fcuk, it’s not a Wessex” he thought as there was that exhaust duct just as you got in and he didn’t want his newly found erection anywhere near that exhaust, it was a hot hole but the sort to steer well clear of.

The teams split up and Flabby, Ryan, Smudge and Knocker jumped into the first Puma while Danny Boy, Taff, Jock and Nige jumped in the second with Rikshaw who Flabby had decided would be more of an asset with them. The Pumas taxied to the end of the runway and lifted off into the night sky. They looked down on Falafel and suddenly fell in a heap as the Pumas narrowly missed a large tower with a huge ‘M’ on the top of it. “Muslim” said Jock.” “Bollox, it’s that fcuking burger bar” said Nige. Rikshaw fell on the PE and left a large indentation courtesy of his erection. In the other Puma, Rab C did not take lightly to being crushed so bit Flabby through several layers of clothing. Apparently body armour could stop a bullet but could do nothing against the bite of a semi squashed angry hamster. Flabby fed Ran C from the handy peanut bowl and Rab C filled his pouches so he could bite Flabby again.

They reached the border and could see the border checkpoint in the distance. Another large ‘M’ made it easy to see. “I’m loving it, am I fcuk” said Jock, always ready with a comment. The Pumas had switched off the air conditioning as this would give the Pumas a far greater range. They were flying low, hugging the contours of the land, trying not to be detected by the Iranistan radar. The targets lay deep in Iranistan territory and they desperately did not want to be detected. The Pumas had been modified with an anti-radar device which actually was ten rolls of aluminium foil stuck on with blue tack but this did break up the radar signature. The foil had actually been bought from a local Falafel supermarket and it was only the fact they had said they were having a very large pork roast that had stopped the staff at the supermarket inviting friends and family as the Kebabstanis never missed a good pish up and the possibility of free nosh. The blue tack had been bought from a local stationary stationery store which toured the commercial districts of Falafel and fortunately the airport as well when it wasn’t stationary.

The Pumas were flying close to a main road but would head into the desert on the odd time a car would appear. The pilot in Flabby’s Puma was talking to the co-pilot and there seemed to be a hell of a lot of gesticulating going on. Flabby tried to find out what was going on but a sudden movement as a car appeared caused him to fall, squashing Rab C who didn’t bite him this time not straightaway but waited a couple of minutes and then bit him. All of a sudden the Pumas slowed and landed on the road. Flabby wondered what the fcuk was going on as they were still several miles from the first drop off point. With rotors still turning, the co-pilot got out with his map and walked from the helicopter. A couple of minutes passed and he returned. Flabby overheard him telling the pilot to go straight until the first traffic lights and hang a left. The co-pilot had wanted to check his personal TumTum satellite navigation device as the anti radar modification had rendered the Puma’s device inoperative and had found a road sign and checked they were on the right road. He had also seen an encampment of the Tsatsiki tribe and asked directions. The Tsatsikis were opposed to the Iranistani government and were nomads and dealers in scrap metal. It seems the Puma crews well briefed and it wasn’t the strange action it seemed.

Finally after half an hour, the first drop off point was reached and Team Bravo, Danny Boy, Taff, Jock and Nige jumped out and starting pulling kit out. Flabby jumped out of his Puma and checked that Danny Boy was fully briefed and up to scratch on what had to be done. “Good luck Danny Boy” said Flabby, shaking Danny Boy’s hand with a firm grip. Meanwhile Rikshaw spent five minutes trying to pull something out of the back of the Puma, only to find it was his own erection. “It’s piece of pish, so it is” said Danny Boy returning the grip. “See you back in Falafel” said Flabby and climbed into the Puma and watched Team Bravo still unloading as they took off and headed for their drop off point. Danny Boy, Taff, Jock and Nige set up an all round defence while Rikshaw tried to get near enough to the kit to check it. Their Puma took off and headed back to Falafel hoping there was a lock in at the officer’s mess when they got back, they felt like a drink, those peanuts make you so thirsty and those greedy SAS barstewards had cleaned out the drinks cabinet.

Flabby sat in the back picking lumps of peanut out of a particularly nasty wound courtesy of Rab C who was suffering from air sickness and was now snuggled up in a sick bag with a field dressing as bedding. The Puma flew on for a further twenty minutes or so when the co-pilot gave them the thumbs up. “Does he think we’re going to fcuking jump?” he said to himself and to Rab C who farted loudly then went back to sleep. The Puma landed and they all dragged their gear from the back of the helicopter. As soon as the gear was out, the three went into an all round defence position while Flabby paid the Puma pilot. These defence cuts are ridiculous he thought to himself as the pilot swiped his SAS Visa card but he was glad of the Air Miles. The pilot shouted at him that if they required picking up then they would have to give fourteen days written notice and that a non-returnable deposit would have to be paid. Flabby thanked him and crossed him off his Christmas card list, not that he ever sent them anyway. The pilot gave a thumb up and Flabby stuck up a finger in response and the Puma raced off just in case there was a lock in the officer’s mess and really happy that the drinks cabinet was still full.

Flabby called in Ryan and told him to find somewhere that would be well camouflaged during the day as they would have to wait until the following evening before moving off. They would have to sleep during the day and move at night but the desert wasn’t as deserted as you would think during the day so particular care had to be taken. They moved the kit to a small cave under a rock overhang which would give them ideal cover during the day. Flabby asked Ryan to knock something simple up, just three courses and it didn’t have to be hot but they needed to eat before morning. Ryan grabbed his Heckler O’Koch an excellent Irish assault rifle, fitted the silencer attachment and headed off into the night. A quarter of an hour later and narrowly avoiding being shot by Knocker, he reappeared with a couple rabbits or what was left of them as he must have pumped five hundred rounds into them.

The three of them settled down to a meal. Knocker was on stag but would eat after the first one of them finished.” I hope you’ve got some fcuking ammo left?” Flabby asked Ryan spitting out another round from the pan fried rabbit with lemon grass dressing. The dressing was sublime and complemented the metal of the rounds perfectly. They finished off the main course, demolished the sweet and wolfed down the coffee, cheese and biscuits. This was really roughing it. “No fcuking starter” thought Flabby. He took over from Knocker who grabbed his portion of rabbit and crunched loudly on the rounds. Smudge stuck on another patch and smoked his pipe, his cigar and three cigarettes. Their Puma had been a non-smoking one, apparently you have to stipulate smoking or non-smoking when you book and somebody had neglected to do this. He checked on Rab C who was fast asleep in the field dressing in the sick bag but woke briefly, scratched his ear, licked his bum and went back to sleep. It seemed that even Rab C was preparing for the days to come.