I went into a public-’ouse to get a pint o’ beer,
The publican ‘e up an’ sez, ‘We serve no red-coats ‘ere.’
The girls be’ind the bar they laughed and giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again, an’ to myself sez I:
Oh, it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ ‘Tommy, go away’:
But it’s ‘Thank you, Mister Atkins,’ when the band begins to play -
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
Oh, it’s ‘Thank you, Mister Atkins,’ when the band begins to play.
But have no fear Tommy! You might not get your pint but Golden Wonder have a treat in store for you…
Pot Noeldle is a festive fusion of turkey and stuffing and 2p will be donated from the sale of each pot to pay for Christmas phonecalls for troops abroad.
A Christmas dinner-flavoured Pot Noodle goes on sale today following a trial with British troops abroad.
The Pot Noeldle is a “festive fusion of turkey and stuffing with all the trimmings”, according to the company.
A donation of 2p from every pot sold will be made to the RAF Association’s Wings appeal to support the Miles More Minutes project, which gives troops posted overseas more time to telephone their loved ones over the Christmas period.
The flavour was developed and trialled last year for personnel serving on 27 Squadron after member Sergeant Ian Hobbs said troops regarded the brand as a home comfort.
Squadron Leader Stuart Balfour, head of RAF licensing, said: “The snack is enjoyed by so many of the troops and it’s great to know that every pot sold will help them keep in touch with loved ones at what is a really important time of the year.”
Pot Noodle spokesman Tom Denyard said: “We’re especially proud of the Pot Noeldle. It’s been 12 months in development, with several taste tests involving the troops themselves. It’s the first time we’ve produced a flavour from a homegrown story.”
The Pot Noeldle will sell for £1.10.
Where to start? It sounds ghastly for an opener. I mean really. Is that the best a squaddie can hope for after a hard day being shot at by bearded lunatics half a world a way from Catterick? Is that the best we as a nation can do for folks doing a frankly (in the circumstances) impossible job give them a Pot Noodle. A Pot fucking Noodle! Students don’t even eat them any more. I was a student and I have seen some sights in shared kitchens. I have seen things you people would not believe. A mate of my mate stole a frozen chicken from Sainsburys and my mate proceeded to defrost it by jamming it behind a radiator. This would not be of much note but Andy (I shall shame the guilty) was a student of microbiology. He then jammed the semi-defrosted chicken in the dubious gas oven and got stoned, passed out and the tragic bird incinerated sending black smoke billowing down the stairs – it was like Dresden in ’45. My wife, by the way, has just informed me that she witnessed a similarly unedifying spectacle involving a chicken but this time perpetrated by a trainee chef!
Anyway. That is not my point. I bet you’re glad it isn’t. My point is… I know I sounded sniffy about Golden Wonder’s attempt to help the lads and lasses at the sharp end but if I did it was because they shouldn’t have to. You know what worries our troops deployed abroad most? It isn’t coming home in a flag-draped pine box, it isn’t being maimed or captured. It’s being dumped. We live in an age where we expect communication with our nearest and dearest to be simple, cheap and just there. It isn’t for soldiers out in Helmand. It ought to be. I once had a trans-atlantic relationship and it’s hard but we could speak on the phone and send emails. This is not the C18th where folks would go off exploring and come home to the missus three years later (possibly with “interesting” diseases) but now and our troops have already been given a kick in the gusset by George “The Boy” Osborne. Why no bugger in Whitehall thinks (as I do) that a couple of hundred Super Tuccanos for CAS in the ‘stan might put the fear of Allah up the beards is beyond me. I keep saying it but clearly Liam Fox takes no notice. That’s another issue but even if we can’t do that we can at least, as a minimum, ensure adequate communications for the troops with their wives, husbands and kids. Surely that is doable for a relatively small amount of cash?
I, despite my trans-atlantic relationship, cannot imagine what it is like. Well, I can imagine but I can’t really feel it if you know what I mean. People must be returning after a tour totally alienated because they have seen things and shared things with their platoon that they haven’t been able to share with their family. War causes casualties and amongst those is divorce. If we are going to send the soldiers in to chase gits up hills in a place which if not exactly the arsehole of the entire Universe is at least well within farting distance of it then… Actually it is the arsehole of the Universe and I’ve been to Middlesbrough. More to the point my Dad visited Middlesbrough in the ’60s when it was so polluted the River Tees used to spontaneously get exothermic. I guess though that meant they at least had jobs back then.