Between the security of childhood and the insecurity of manhood, we find a fascinating species of humans called BOOTNECKS. They come in all shapes and sizes. In trucks, in boats, in various barracks. In love and always in debt.
A “BOOTNECK” is sharp with a pack of cards. Deadly with a set of darts and protector of the earth on half a dozen pints.
He has the speed of a striking slug – the slyness of a fox and the brains of a rocking horse and the stories of a sea captain.
He has the sincerity of a born liar and the aspirations of Casanova. Some of his interests are girls, woman, females, dames, birds, the opposite sex and spending other people’s money!
His dislikes are answering letters, wearing uniform, provost Sergeants, BFT, the RSM and reveille. No one else could cram into one pocket – a crumpled ID card, a packet of crushed cigarettes, a picture of his (or an oppo’s) girlfriend(s), a comb, a bottle opener, an old leave pass and what’s left of last month’s pay.
He likes spending money on beer, sometimes on girls, some on horses, some on football pools and the rest… foolishly. A “BOOTNECK” is a magical creature. You can scratch him off your nominal roll – but never off your mind.
He is your one and only hairy arsed, good for nothing bundle of worries. But all your shattered dreams come whole again, when he comes staggering home – looks at you with those big bloodshot eyes and simply says……
“Hello love Gis a go of your body”……………….
