Billy Baker – Boozing
British biltong maker.
Billy was born in 1957. His parents were wealthy and very clever. His father was a professor giving lectures at the University of Rocket Science - his mother, was the first person to clone a clown that died laughing.
It became apparent that there was something wrong with the gene pool regarding Billy. His mother, a genetic, DNA manipulator, concluded that he was a kick back from Neanderthal times. Billy never went to school and simply sat in front of the TV watching repeats of Dr Who.
He did not speak much but when he did -
‘I am a Dalek – exterminate, exterminate.’
When Billy turned 18 – his father said -
‘You want to exterminate? Okay, here is a one way ticket to Rhodesia, a digital watch, and 500 pounds.’
Dropping his son off at the airport, he pinned a notice to his back -
‘Please look after this idiot’
At Salisbury International airport, where only planes from South Africa arrived, so sort of ‘international’, Billy was recruited into the RLI as soon as he went through Customs and Idiotintergration. He would be trained to become cannon fodder.
Billy loved the training. Standing at 6 foot four and built bigger than a Siberian dancing bear with looks that made a granite cliff face shiver, his fellow recruits loved him. But – Billy would become addicted to beer and biltong down at the troopie recruit’s bar every night! He broke many records - mostly because he hated them playing Gary Glitter.
It was whilst he was ripping the legs off the snooker table because he had lost a game – he had a revelation. He would become Scottish. (Although he had been born in Northern Ireland.) Explaining to his OiC in clear language -
‘Oooch mon, ee me Daleek, haggis, haggis, exterminate, exterminate. Whisky Whisky, Billy want more’, he could wear a camouflage kilt and paint his face in weird colours of blue and shiny white.
Sent out on patrol, he was ‘point’ and would constantly hollow out ‘Oooch mon, there is whiskey in the jar. I am a Dalek – exterminate, exterminate.’
Leading up to Independence, Billy and his faithful comrades would never once get in a form of aggressive contact with the enemy. The only aggression was if any of his chinas would be replaced and they might be sent to real combat. Then his stick mates threatened mutiny…
Just before Independence, Billy cottoned the game was up and must return home. But, before he went, he managed to fathom how to make biltong – for truly he was addicted to the stuff. His troopie mates had explained – beef, spices, cardboard box, light, heater.
When Billy arrived back on British soil, he had quite a lot of money on him. Real money. He had hardly spent a cent in four years. His bank manager responded most amicably when he strode in and explained –
‘Pounds – I have
whisky in the jar, I am a dalek –
exterminate, exterminate.’Billy was born in 1957. His parents were wealthy and very clever. His father was a professor giving lectures at the University of Rocket Science - his mother, was the first person to clone a clown that died laughing.
It became apparent that there was something wrong with the gene pool regarding Billy. His mother, a genetic, DNA manipulator, concluded that he was a kick back from Neanderthal times. Billy never went to school and simply sat in front of the TV watching repeats of Dr Who.
He did not speak much but when he did -
‘I am a Dalek – exterminate, exterminate.’
When Billy turned 18 – his father said -
‘You want to exterminate? Okay, here is a one way ticket to Rhodesia, a digital watch, and 500 pounds.’
Dropping his son off at the airport, he pinned a notice to his back -
‘Please look after this idiot’
At Salisbury International airport, where only planes from South Africa arrived, so sort of ‘international’, Billy was recruited into the RLI as soon as he went through Customs and Idiotintergration. He would be trained to become cannon fodder.
Billy loved the training. Standing at 6 foot four and built bigger than a Siberian dancing bear with looks that made a granite cliff face shiver, his fellow recruits loved him. But – Billy would become addicted to beer and biltong down at the troopie recruit’s bar every night! He broke many records - mostly because he hated them playing Gary Glitter.
It was whilst he was ripping the legs off the snooker table because he had lost a game – he had a revelation. He would become Scottish. (Although he had been born in Northern Ireland.) Explaining to his OiC in clear language -
‘Oooch mon, ee me Daleek, haggis, haggis, exterminate, exterminate. Whisky Whisky, Billy want more’, he could wear a camouflage kilt and paint his face in weird colours of blue and shiny white.
Sent out on patrol, he was ‘point’ and would constantly hollow out ‘Oooch mon, there is whiskey in the jar. I am a Dalek – exterminate, exterminate.’
Leading up to Independence, Billy and his faithful comrades would never once get in a form of aggressive contact with the enemy. The only aggression was if any of his chinas would be replaced and they might be sent to real combat. Then his stick mates threatened mutiny…
Just before Independence, Billy cottoned the game was up and must return home. But, before he went, he managed to fathom how to make biltong – for truly he was addicted to the stuff. His troopie mates had explained – beef, spices, cardboard box, light, heater.
When Billy arrived back on British soil, he had quite a lot of money on him. Real money. He had hardly spent a cent in four years. His bank manager responded most amicably when he strode in and explained –
Billy’s parents were not quite overjoyed to see him, especially as he smelt bad, wore no shirt and tucked the ends of his beard into his kilt. However – they did have a super-dooper caravan at the bottom of their large garden with all the mod cons and let him stay there – if he kept quiet and did not frighten the neighbours.
Billy had become so acclimatized with crates of Rhodie Castle beer, he could not stomach the local stuff, but found a store selling Carlsberg Special Brew – 7.3% - which could, after 20 cans, make him think straight.
Night after night he struggled with his addiction – biltong-biltong-biltong- cardboard box, beef, spices, light, heater – he needed his fix.
One night, It was after his 37th beer for the night. He had a plan.
1. Cardboard box – easy.
2. Beef – farmer Paddy O’ Brian had a bull next door doing nothing much but chewing the cud.
3. Heating - get some second hand flame throwers from the local army sales.
4. Light. – steal a few street lamps.
Now that left only spices. This is where Billy got a bit unstuck until…
He was watching MTV and a strange song permeated through his head ‘So tell me what you want, what you really, really want?’
Billy knew what he wanted – biltong and he had just found his spices. But how to get them?
Stay tuned for Part Two. (If you really, really want.)
