kennywtelejazz
jamesg1213
The drums beat steadily all last night but have ceased since sunrise this morning.
Privates Dunnow and Fink found the strain unbearable and showed up for sentry duty as an accordion-playing pantomime horse on a unicycle - although to their credit, still in uniform.
Alphonse brightened up the men briefly by throwing together a delightful, impromptu little breakfast of kedgeree and wild trout followed by fresh strawberries and some delightful little crepes. The men have had a whip round and bought him Fewster's "History of Military Chef's and the Great Campaigns of Wellington Before He knew anything".
I have sent 2nd Platoon out on a recce but fear the worst since for the past half-hour several empty beer cans have been flung into our lines wrapped in the men's underpants and accompanied by coarse jeering and colourful taunts.
Vicar Wilt has relinquished his kilt in favour of something from C&A and patrols the parapet with his portable gramophone playing requests to keep up the men's spirits. A popular title seems to be "Why Don't You F off You Silly Sod", but the good Vicar doesn't seem to have that one in his collection. However, the effects upon the men's morale of repeat playings of "Songs of the Male Sallowflench recorded in the Great Threshing Barn at Titmost-Under-The-Bule" are there for all to see.
I have sent Lance-Corporal Wittering on a near suicide mission to the "Blindfold and Compass" for crisps and shandy. Meanwhile Sergeant Roundnethers is bellowing nicely from the redoubt.
I ordered the men to fix bayonets, but they said they said there was no need because they weren’t broken.
Oh man James that was Great 
Kenny
We forded the Lamlaal River this morning beneath a hail of nose darts from the pygmies of the Inbwambwa Archipilego. Sergeant Roundnethers saw them off with a volley of wordless, purple necked invective. The outcome was never really in doubt - although I did have to order Privates Dunnow and Fink to desist from attempting to hide behind one other; the effect of which was causing them to get further and further away.
Vicar Wilt read aloud from
"The Seven Dialects of Molon'gwe as spoken by the Pastoral Tribes of Western Kiswaalandtland and it's surrounding Environs" and the men strode resolutely toward our tiny foe, accompanied by Piper MacFlannel, who raised all our fighting spirits with his rousing rendition of "
H'away ma Bonnie Bonnie h'away, aye h'away yon frae the Boon". Lance Corporal Wittering did sterling work from atop the self-propelling land yacht with reversible, pneumatic corduroy and shall be mentioned in my next despatch to HRH.