Tuesday 17 October 2006

Keeling Time.


You may of heard in the news about the journalist Anna Politkovskaya being assassinated by a Russian Hitman, these guns for hire aren't new, they have killed several high profile people over the past few years and are the current epidemic to hit Russia since David Hasslehoff and his car with the fruity voice defeated the communists .
These Killers or Keelers as they are called in Russia come from out of work KGB or other military, which means they are bad bastards,even the lowest of the soldiers and the least trained in combat, cooks, still tough as fuck, Russian army cooks don't use oven mitts, oven mitts are for the weak pussy westerners, as is washing their hands, no offense if any ex army cooks are reading, ah fuck yous , I bet you didn't eat your own cooking, they put stuff in the tea you know so you don't get stiffies. On a side note, before these gourmet rations that you just add water too and you have a Christmas dinner in a packet, we had cans of pate with crackers and mystery meat cans of stew, these were designed to bung you up so you'd only shit once a week, this means more fighting men at the ready, sneaky cunts,I pity the special forces who have to shit into bags and carry it with them so the enemy can't stick their finger in it and say, "2 hours old, tastes like *chips*, must be British SAS, they went that way" .

Old Knudsen's (remember me?) career as a bodyguard literally went up in smoke, it just didn't pan out for me, all politics, so in the early 80's I enrolled in a 'Keeler for hire' course down in Somerset, lovely country, plenty of sun too. It was run by an ex KGB assassin named Mikhail, he was a wiry wee shite but solid, ugly as fuck with an expression as if he was about to fall asleep or always drunk, a keeler's lust for keeling is only matched by his lust for strong foul smelling cigarettes, he seemed to always have a lit one in his mouth at all times, even when he took his respirator (gas mask) off after being in a room full of CS gas a lit cigarette would still be in his gob, I once asked if he ever felt like stopping, he flew into a rage and screamed, "I'm not a weak quitter I never give up, quitting is for losers " , after that I didn't really engage in small talk anymore.
What did I learn at my camp for Keelers?
I learnt to size up every room I enter, where the exits are, is there any alcohol, and who is more likely to buy a round and who is not, those that do not return the favour of round buying are subhuman scum and should be squashed.
I learnt that a true Keeler doesn't use mixers, and can get his hole anywhere from anything with his Keeler charm, I learned what parts of my body could be used as weapons, for instance if your leg gets blown off it then makes an excellent club, Mikhail taught me that only the weak pass out through lack of blood, I think he may be right.
During that rugged tough 3 day course I put my body through things I never thought I could, I stood in line at Tescos and never once complained about only two cashiers open during lunch time, I smiled and listened as a Jehovah Witness and his lurker Witness told me about their religion and only gave positive polite replies, my mind was becoming disciplined, my body had become rock hard from all the coughing I was doing from Mikhail's smoking, I was a trained Keeler.
Not everyone passed, we lost some good men on the explosives part of the course, and some good fingers (fingers, a good weapon for throwing if nails are long) thankfully bullets are expensive and we only got three each, but one bullet was all Sweaty Bert needed, I told him to wipe off his hands before he loaded his weapon, no one listens to Old Knudsen and those that do usually regret it.
I got a certificate and a t-shirt, and I was a disciplined buff Keeling machine, who would employ me?, let me think the Argies needed some help after getting their arses kicked during the Falkland Conflict, that's what happens when you let ex Nazis train your army, Iran as usual were the bad guys but those crazy fuckers have no Keeling pride, 'he that Keels and runs away lives to Keel another day' you don't blow yourself up (on purpose) how stupid would you have to be? that's a rhetorical question so don't bother, the Yanks are always stirring shit and shooting people, nah I'm not working for those bastards after they embarrassed me with the whole Kennedy thing, LBJ you wanker, they could of let me in on it.
I found myself working for a large company, Tescos, stacking shelves, well it was a start.



*For those that don't speak English, Chips = French Fries, Freedom Fries to you Bitter Balls*

12 comments:

Fat Sparrow said...

"they put stuff in the tea you know so you don't get stiffies"

It's not in the tea, it's in the tinned meat, as a preservative (potassium nitrate).

"I learnt to size up every room I enter, where the exits are, is there any alcohol, and who is more likely to buy a round and who is not"

I haven't heard that Jason Bourne can do that; give my hair a wash, and you may get put on my "Honeys" list.

Dr Maroon said...

"I learnt to size up every room I enter, where the exits are,..."

You didn't learn that at Keel School. Every Glaswegian is tought that from primary one up. Just like the Spartans, it's second nature to us. Keep it accurate.

Anonymous said...

Your list of fascinating jobs supercedes mine. I'm trying to envision the the t-shirt, which you should wear while staking shelves for the full effect.

Dick Headley said...

Oh that kind of Keeler!! Silly me. I thought we were back in the days of Jack Profumo and Lucky Gordon for a minute. You young 'uns can do a google search.

Maven said...

Freedom Fries my pastey white, dimpled buttocks!

French fries, Chips, frites!! Anything but that mockery, knee-jerk Freedom Fries shit!

Oh yeah, we can't keep our shores safe, illegals and terrorists are streaming into our country, yet renaming a fucking fried potato is supposed to bolster support?

Foot Eater said...

if your leg gets blown off it then makes an excellent club

Very droll, that.

A club foot?

Old Knudsen said...

fat sparrow The stuff they put in the tea was called 'Bromide'maybe the tinned meat was a double shot as us brits are sex machines.

Dr Maroon through centuries of fighting the English, we have been bred into the perfect warrior, like the sartans it is also second nature to strip naked and oil up our bodies for battle, or fun .

dh since passing my course I have sat astride many a chair naked, see above.

nuggetmaven its all sleight of hand distractions, at the time it was against the french because they didn't want to get their ass kicked in another war, keep the population busy finding things other than the government's policies to bitch about.

Mr Eater theres nothing droll about survival , trust you to notice anything about feet.

Old Knudsen said...

sammy I think your country has laws against firebombing but I respect your right to do so, go for it lad.

babsbitchin get a commode chair and let it all go, I'll have to see if you know the secret Keeler handshake before I talk shop with you, wear gloves, it could be messy.

Unknown said...

I aspire to be able to kill in any language. Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out was my motto. But I respect you and your experiance. I have much to learn. You can be my mentor. Now, one thing and one thing only; what are ya drinkin' I'm buying tonite? I've already had my two limit for the night(Of course they're huge glasses)but I would accomodate you by tipping a glass. No, I don't play with those pansy ass cute drinks either, they'll make you stupid. So, how 'bout doing a shot with me and two for the road?

Maven said...

I am still stuck on the visual of someone sticking their finger into excrement to determine time and identity by the temp and taste... :)

Maven said...

Also, Tonto used to put his ear to the ground and say "Buffalo come," and when the Lone Ranger would ask, "How do you know?" Tonto's reply would be, "Ground sticky."

Unknown said...

I'm just as confused and suited for both.