Armed with Käsekuchen
and wearing a cheesy grin, the Boot Camp’s latest recruit was undeniably intent
on a charm offensive as she arrived in Pleasure City.
But our “Madcap” leader has seen it all before and was in no mood to be
buttered up by her offer of calorie-rich cheesecakes. “We had it the week
before with the Limburger with the welsh-rarebit name who thought he could get
round us with his Garibaldis. She’s trying to milfk the situation too,” he said, “if she goes on
like this, she’ll really get up my goat”. There was a further disappointment for
the new inmate as she was led to her dormitory, only to be met by a waft of
Gorgonzola. Searching for the malodorous source, she eventually discovered a
mouldy old sock lurking under the bed, obviously left there by its previous occupant,
along with a well-thumbed magazine whose centerfold displayed the “Cheesemate
of the Year”, sporting nothing more than a birthday suit with only a churn to
hide her modesty. The distress was further compounded when she reported for duty
the following morning, after a sleepless night of tossing and turning on the
creaky bunk, to be told that she faced a 38-kilometre route march later in the
day …
