The SAS Cook.

THE SAS COOK.

It was a quiet, almost opulent pub in Knightsbridge called “The Grenadier”, neatly tucked away down some narrow streets and Martin was trawling for a guardsman. Eventually his eye lit upon a fresh faced young man at the bar & he opened with some obscure reference to the weather or the price of beer that is a trait inherent in the demeanor of some Englishmen.

They appeared to be getting along quite well, when the young man called Max, leant forward to Martin in an almost conspiratorial manner and said in a soft voice “I’m in The Regiment.”

“Oh” said Martin “So am I. What’s your specialty?”

“Well, eh, explosives” he spluttered out, having expected to impress and in reality being wrong footed.

“ That interesting” said Martin knowing full well that this elite SAS unit of the British Army to which he referred, normally work in small units of three with compatible specialties skills like; linguistics, communications, ordinance etc.

“Seen much action?” asked Martin.

“Yes, umm” said Max “You know, the normal thing, Northern Ireland, Oman, Iraq, but I can’t talk about it.” Feeling trapped and uncomfortable, he decided to change tack. “What about yourself?”

Martin stone faced said “I’m the cook.”

“The cook! What you mean in the mess?”

“Oh no, I’m operational. In fact I’m quite well known, whether for knocking up an omelet under mortar fire or creating “pot au feu” in a copse in Crossmaglen.”

“Married?” asked Martin.

“No, not actually” replied Max. “Not much time for that.”

“Quite right too” said Martin “Women are all right, but you can’t beat the real thing”

A look of reality and shock transformed Max’s face. The macho, male bonding had gone awry and he was the prey.

“Excuse me, Martin, must just take a leak” he said, looking to escape.

“No problem Maxi, I’ll join you” said Martin.

The two entered the urinals, both unzipped, but for Max nothing came. Panicking he rezipped, wet himself unconsciously & dived for the door, hurrying out into the street.

Martin smiled to himself and returned to his beer at the bar. He looked up at the brightly shining glasses hanging overhead and reflected

“Beware of Gay SAS Celebrity Chefs!”

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The SAS Cook.