You see, there was to be a big 'do' in the WO and NCO's mess at which commisioned ranks were invited, not the prolotariat like us, so I was challenged to gatecrash in disguise,so I duly donned my outfit as Ivan akerov, soldier of misfortune.

This outfit comprised an army greatcoat worn over shorts, a steel helmet, shoes, (not boots) rolled down grey stockins and beard made from wiping burnt corks round my chops.

With trepidition I boldly shambled into the mess peopled by all ranks in number one dress, picking up a sandwich and a libation on the way, two commisioned ranks were just leaving espied my elegant form and saying, "This will be good" returned to the open air dance floor.

As I emerged onto the self same dancefloor in full view of all assembled there, with not a clue of what I was going to do next, the drummer in the dance band struck up a marching beat.

"Ah, that's it" I thought, "silly drill," so for what seemed like ages I did my manouvres which John Cleese would have been proud of, and would you believe it, I got a round of enthiusiastic applause.

Meanwhile my 'buddies' were waiting to see me being marched off to the guardroom, anxiously wondering if they had missed my last hour of freedom, but instead, yours truly was observed emerging with linked arms with an NCO in an inebriated manner, and now I've blown my cover for hitherto this moment not one person knew who the daft pillock parading up and down that evening was.