The SAS, the Parachute Regiment and the Police decide to go on a survival weekend together to see who comes out on top. After some basic exercises the trainer tells them that their next objective is to go down into the woods and catch a rabbit for their supper, returning with it ready to skin and cook.
Night falls.
First up - the SAS. They don infrared goggles, drop to the ground and crawl into the woods in formation. Absolute silence for 5 minutes, followed by the unmistakable muffled "phut-phut" of their trademark silenced "double-tap". They emerge with a large rabbit shot cleanly between the eyes.
"Excellent!" remarks the trainer.
Next up - the Para's. They finish their cans of lager, smear themselves with camouflage cream, fix bayonets and charge down into the woods, screaming at the top of their lungs. For the next hour the woods ring with the sound of rifle and machine-gun fire, hand grenades, mortar bombs and blood curdling war cries. Eventually they emerge, carrying the charred remains of a rabbit.
"A bit messy, but you achieved the aim; well done", says the trainer.
Lastly, in go the coppers, walking slowly, hands behind backs whistling Dixon of Dock Green. For the next few hours, the silence is only broken by the occasional crackle of a walkie-talkie "Sierra Lima Whisky Tango Fanta One, suspect headed straight for you..." etc. After what seems an eternity, they emerge escorting a squirrel in handcuffs.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" asks the incredulous trainer, "Take this squirrel back and get me a rabbit like I asked you five hours ago!".
So back they go. Minutes pass. Minutes turn to hours, night drags on and turns to day.
The next morning, the trainer and the other teams are awakened by the police, holding the handcuffed squirrel, now covered in bruises, one eye nearly shut.
"Are you taking the pi$$!!??" asks the now seriously irate trainer.
The police team leader nudges the squirrel, who squeaks:
"Alright, Alright, I'm a f00kin rabbit!"
Night falls.
First up - the SAS. They don infrared goggles, drop to the ground and crawl into the woods in formation. Absolute silence for 5 minutes, followed by the unmistakable muffled "phut-phut" of their trademark silenced "double-tap". They emerge with a large rabbit shot cleanly between the eyes.
"Excellent!" remarks the trainer.
Next up - the Para's. They finish their cans of lager, smear themselves with camouflage cream, fix bayonets and charge down into the woods, screaming at the top of their lungs. For the next hour the woods ring with the sound of rifle and machine-gun fire, hand grenades, mortar bombs and blood curdling war cries. Eventually they emerge, carrying the charred remains of a rabbit.
"A bit messy, but you achieved the aim; well done", says the trainer.
Lastly, in go the coppers, walking slowly, hands behind backs whistling Dixon of Dock Green. For the next few hours, the silence is only broken by the occasional crackle of a walkie-talkie "Sierra Lima Whisky Tango Fanta One, suspect headed straight for you..." etc. After what seems an eternity, they emerge escorting a squirrel in handcuffs.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" asks the incredulous trainer, "Take this squirrel back and get me a rabbit like I asked you five hours ago!".
So back they go. Minutes pass. Minutes turn to hours, night drags on and turns to day.
The next morning, the trainer and the other teams are awakened by the police, holding the handcuffed squirrel, now covered in bruises, one eye nearly shut.
"Are you taking the pi$$!!??" asks the now seriously irate trainer.
The police team leader nudges the squirrel, who squeaks:
"Alright, Alright, I'm a f00kin rabbit!"
