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Mind the Tailgate

Updated: Jul 2, 2021


Being ex infantry, I spent most of my army career on the back of these. The thing that resonated most of all was that famous catch phase, ‘Mind the tailgate’, not forgetting the absolutely zero suspension, which probably explains why my back is f**ked and I have no feeling in my right leg. If you were lucky, you got a decent driver, but more often than not you got one who deliberately accelerated when approaching potholes, speed bumps and bl**dy cattle grids. I can recollect that jolt to the spine now as my a**e bounced off those moving park benches, followed by shouts of ‘Watch where you’re driving, you f**king idiot!’ Yes, it’s all coming back to me now, trapping my ball sack in the middle benches, getting drenched when the canvas cover got full of water and suddenly gave way. And there was always one clever f**ker, who would hang off the rope to have a p*** because there was a queue at the en-suite p*** hole, the central support hole. The competition was to see who could swing out the furthest whilst going along the road, and another stunt was climbing out the back, along the roof and in through the gun hatch in the cab.


But we didn’t care, we were young and stupid, and it didn’t matter what sort of transport was provided, as long as you didn’t have to tab it back to camp. Strangely, some of the best kips I have ever had, have been in the back of a Bedford 4 tonner, aided by a crate of Herforders of course. Urban surfing on the canopy. Best memories ever. BULLIES AND BULLSHIT Warning! If easily offended, I really do advise you not to read this book. www.clivewardauthor.com





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