Book Review; Catch That Tiger by Noel Botham & Bruce Montague

In one of the lesser known acts of bravery in WWII, this book retells the story of a humble officer and a few hand selected non-comms who were given one simple order, directly from Churchill himself; “Go catch me a Tiger!”

The Tiger tank was the ultimate in tracked terror, an almost perfect combination of destruction and refinement, the largest tank of the North African campaign. Dwarfing anything that Germany, England, or America had in stock, the Tiger housed an 88mm within a 60-tonne shell capable of demolishing Allied armour accurately from 2 miles, while seemingly not having a single flaw. So steps up Major Doug Lidderdale.

When Churchill demanded that an intact Tiger be captured and brought back to England for analysis one would expect a crack team of elite commandos, the envy of every soldier and hero of book-reading youth, but no, Dog and his selected men were just mere tank repairers, which as this book reveals, was a heroic bloody mob in itself as they raced into battlefields with tractors to two back damaged tanks under shell fire.

The book is a mix of fact derived from letters and official documents, including Lidderdale’s own diary, but at times it feels a little fictional as conversations take place between some of the role players. All in all, it is an amazing story as young men risk life and limb to hijack a weapon that had no obvious predators, fiercely protected by the Nazis, and not only get it back to Allied lines, hide it from their own side and try to smuggle it back to Old Blighty.

With scenes of deception and cloak and dagger stuff, it reads at times like a James Bond novel, so it came as no surprise when Ian Fleming himself popped up in a starring role! In a case where any attempt to hide the ending, the Tiger obviously is captured, and shipped to England (with no real sense of urgency, I noted) amongst spies, repeated sub attacks and internal command break downs.

The propaganda photo soon after the tank’s capture – however the team involved were not allowed to be mentioned as it wouldn’t ‘look good’ if commandos hadn’t carried out such a heroic deed.

A good book for anyone interested in war memoirs.

Friday Funny…what we men are up against…

Sorry ladies, I am already taken, but open to all offers…

Friday Funny….wedding speeches.

From the people who brought you “The Office”, “Derek”, and the best damned Golden Globe speech ever, here’s a continuation of the funniest kind of comedy; awkwardness. Warwick Davis with a wedding speech second only to Merchant’s speech from “I Give It A Year” which is added below. .The funny thing is that Davis actually played an Ewok in “Return of the Jedi”.

Loving them ivories…

Yep, book me in…wait! No Penthouse mags??

It had been two years (pre-Feb ’11 ‘quakes) since I had last had my teeth checked, and despite repeated intrusions from two dentistry’s via mail, TXT, email, and calls at the most inopportune times, I finally sauntered into ‘my’ dentist for my six-monthly (!?!) checkup and clean.

Now behind proctology – no pun intended – dentistry must command a special kind of person willing to dive into the recesses of some stranger’s mouth while risking losing a finger tip, inhaling halitosis, being covered in spit, or getting a punch in the face as the result of a slip of that fucking pointy thing they jam between your teeth. So credit to them when they charge like a wounded bull because there wouldn’t be enough money, not enough exotic cars in the garage, enough kids at private school, or bikini-clad bits of fluff (on the side, of course) in rented apartments that would make me want to preach the value of flossing to someone bleeding from the gums and drooling.

Memories of the old ‘murder house’ always come flooding back when I see the dentist, although I have been somewhat blessed with only three fillings (all converted to white ceramic or whatever) in 40-odd years of chewing gum, Fruit Bursts, ripping red meat, smoking and coffee, so other than one particular drilling incident when I was a nipper, such visits don’t bother me in the slightest. In fact, and some of those who know, going to the dental nurse back at school was something to be waited on, full of expectation, and cherished. Our nurse was the hottest thing going, and while my now-raging hormones and class-time erections hadn’t kicked in, the feeling and smell of her ample bosom pressed into the side of my face, covering an eye and bordering on the corner of my mouth as she carried out her fine art are moments that will go to the grave with me…

…so back to the present…

‘Hang on, I think my watch is in there…”

To my credit, and the young (read Doogie Howser young) dentist and the wee blondie at this side my time in the horizontal position was short as he ground, scraped, and polished my teeth while I wondered if he and the wee hottie helping were rooting at the motel across the road in lunch breaks, but it was his analysis of my x-rays that made me double-take…

…you see, two years previous, my last check up if you remember, at the same place, I was told by another dentist (older, seemingly wiser, a bit of plaque under his belt for use of a better analogy) had also x-rayed my teeth and claimed there was a cavity forming in one of my bigger choppers – molar, bowler, or something – and would need attention at my next visit (being the obligatory six months later). So one would think, in fact worry, over the following 24mths that his teeth were a right fucken state harboring devils and germs never seen before on a Colgate ad, void of any enamel and rotting through the gums and into my hefty jaw line…

…young doc (are they doctors?) gives me the clean bill of health…

…right….

….ummmmm…

“Don’t worry Sir, this won’t hurt me a bit…”

…did old Arfur (remember ‘Minder’?) try to pull a swifty? Or is baby-blue here incompetent?

Either way, $144.00 later (with a free Colgate gift pack) later it didn’t seem too relevant.

But I got a wee kick in. Standing in the hallway between his office and reception that one moment, that question issued forth to me; “Do you floss?” I hate this question, designed to scare the individual into rushing out and buying 20cm of white string (which is just too similar to tampon threads if you ask me) and at first was proud to say ‘no’ in order to stand up to them. But such an answer would normally be met with patronising ‘tasks tsks’ and shaking of the head while be scolded about the failures of proper dental care, so of more recent times I (yes, I) just gave in and say “Yes, twice a day.”

I don’t know what made me answer the way I did today though…

“Do you floss?”

“I go down on my wife two or three times a week…does that count?”

The look on his face, the stifled laugh from his young, buxom ‘helper’, and the gasp from the reception and waiting room area made it one of the proudest moments I have had…now maybe they won’t bug me for my next appointment.

You. Are. Fucking. Kidding?!? Right?

I saw this video clip on Facebook and viewed it by sheer curiosity. Truth be known, I thought it might be a bit of porn, or some twat falling on his face while riding his bike pissed or something….

…but very quickly I started to get angry. If there’s one thing I cannot stand its hypocrisy. If there’s one thing that is worst than that, it hypocrisy arising within  the religious.

It generally is typical of American tourists and the fundamentalists to believe they can do as they wish regardless of where they are and what rules are enforced, and while this video doesn’t even concern New Zealand, and is about as far removed from my idyllic existence as can be, it has my alcohol-based and nicotine-traced blood boiling to overflowing. Surely that kind of shit from minorities wouldn’t happen here while the harmless reactionaries loosely formed as our Government turn a blind eye?

Does it? It couldn’t? Could it?

Ahhh, me old mucker, Da Bish…

Was the third credit in the opening sequence a hidden threat, Bri?