William Waster - Washout

Recruit Trooper William Waster – Washout.

In 1975, William received his call up papers. The date to rock up to be drafted had almost run out because his address, ‘In Cardboard Box, No 13, Under a Bridge, Salisbury’, had the poor postman in tears finding him.

William was actually delighted being called up. At last he could focus on a future beyond scratching at his fleas and scrounging from the indigenous natives at shebeens for a sip of some Rufaro Ngoto.

Arriving two hours and three days late, explaining he had forgotten to wind up his non-existent alarm clock – he soon caught up with the rest of the intake by getting a rapid hard kick in the rear. Now he would be taught how to become a man to fight for his country, which, meant, as far as William was concerned – meant he got a new cardboard box.

I, the writer, will not delve into to much details that would fill a three page book, but suffice to say, his instructors realised after a few days – the oke was insane! He was caught looking down the barrel of his gat to see if it was dirty – whilst, with a round in the spout and the safety off.

Called into the OiC’s office – he was told -

‘Recruit Waster, you are a danger not only to yourself, but to friends and foes alike. You will finish your national service here at the barracks washing windows.’

William was delighted and replied -

‘Will I get my RGSM at the end?’

-

William was soon put to work washing away and swigging at the window cleaner soap because he concluded – If it smelt nice… it must taste nice. What he did notice was that when he botty burped – foam came out of his bottom and bottomed out the bottom of his camo trousers.

All was well and good- until… he had to clean the windows on the outside of the first floor and was given a ladder.

The problem? William suffered from severe vertigo – hence the reason he lived under a bridge rather than on top of it. He refused. Would rather be shot at dusk, just before the firing squad hit the bar. (It was impossible to be shot at dawn in Rhodesia, as at that time; those responsible to pull triggers were still ‘sleeping it off’.)

And now?

His OiC – literally went mental – he was trying to run a war, not a lunatic asylum.

‘Give him a job washing washers.’

This was duly done, and William had a table, a basin full of soapy suds, a tooth brush, ten thousand washers, and a clothes line to hang them on. He was happy and scrubbed away. But – it is NOW that YOU the reader, will be stunned by what William had done – he had entered the zone of quantum physics.

Because – William would wash and feed 5000 washed washers onto the washing line and attempt to tie one end to a tree. As he lifted the washing line up - all the washers fell off the other end into the dirt.

So he had to wash them again. This went on for decades. Through Independence, through every financial crisis- he just kept washing away at all those washers.

Until – in 2019, the local government officials confiscated all his washers. They would now be used as currency. William was devastated – he was now unemployed and never did get his RGSM.

But he had a backup plan…