The great war
Granddad had so many stories about his time in France during WWI. I particularly remember the tale of the rabbit's foot.

As everyone knows, a rabbit's foot is considered good luck, and the Tommies were always keen to find a rabbit that had been killed by the shells. My granddad's squadron had a squirrel's leg instead because they couldn't find a rabbit. By common agreement, it was considered to be at least 75% as lucky as a rabbit's foot. Or so they thought.

Nobby Millhouse was the first to try out the luckiness of the leg. As they went over the top at Ypres, he was hit square in the forehead by a machine gun bullet and fell back into the trench dead. After a committee meeting, it was decided that he had kept it in his pocket rather than pinning it brooch-like to his breast, as was the tradition.

Next was Arthur Beckwithshaw. The bullets whizzed about his head but he remained untouched... until he slipped on some spilled guts, fell into a shellhole full of barbed wire and was mauled to death by a wolf that had been sheltering there. The wolf was later shot and the squirrel's leg retrieved.

Arguing that the leg should be worn claw-facing-south rather than north, Stanley Calthorpe was the next to try his luck. As his comrades were mown down by machine gun fire, young Stanley strolled nonchalantly across no-man's land without a care, stopping to file his nails as massacre erupted around him. It was only when he reached the German trenches that he realised he had forgotten his gun. He was hacked into mincemeat by bayonets and the Jerries threw the squirrel's leg back in disgust.

By now, a pattern had emerged and the next Tommy to wear the lucky leg was Bobby "Moley" Jackson - so called because his vision barely extended beyond his nose. As the squad went over the top, Bobby meandered without injury in the wrong direction, towards a village that had been untouched by shelling. There, he stumbled into a brothel, whose sex-starved girls pleasured him in so many exotic ways that he remained grinning even at the time of his death. Then they plied him with fine wines, gourmet tit-bits and a number of relaxing spa treatments. It was only spoiled by the 80mm howitzer shell that crashed through the roof and landed squarely in his ringpiece as he was mounting a blonde, evaporating him in an instant.

Well, the squirrel's leg was never found, but granddad has since maintained that it is more lucky than the rabbit's limb and he has been imprisoned by the RSPCA for mutilating squirrels in his back garden.
(frankspencer, Fri 29 Feb 2008, 9:46, 4 replies)

Bloody art!!!
That's what that is...A bloody work of art.
I tip my felt hat in your general direction.
( The magic of chutney Shakes it like an Instagram filter!, Fri 29 Feb 2008, 10:17, closed)

Good jorb.
You ought to write a book. That was great!
( Shazzoir Old enough to know better young enough not to care, Fri 29 Feb 2008, 11:11, closed)

That is your best story ever
I realy mean that,

*click*
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Fri 29 Feb 2008, 11:52, closed)

BIG CLICK
Great one!!
( KISS.ME.WHERE.I.POO Signed the sex offenders register on, Fri 29 Feb 2008, 16:09, closed)