We were drunk last night, We were drunk the night before, We’re going to get drunk tonight If we never get drunk any more. The more we drink The merrier we shall be For we are the boys of the Royal Artillery.
If you kill me, I promise you – you will never take me alive.
Are you going to come quietly, or do I have to use earplugs?
I can speak Esperanto like a native.
If I don’t eat soon, I’ll die of hunger; and if I die, I won’t eat soon.
Chopsticks are one of the reasons the Chinese never invented custard.
God made nightButMan made darkness.
If a man dies when you hang him, keep hanging him until he gets used to it.
A lot of learning canbe a little thing.
Policemen are numbered in case they get lost.
To Harry Secombe: I hope you die first as I don’t want you singing at my funeral.
This silent call you make, A silence so loud I fear the world knows it’s meaning If you fill every corner of a room Where can I look? If I close my eyes the silence becomes louder! There is no escape from you The only way out is in.
I cannot stand being awake, the pain is too much.
Busty’ Roberts had joined the Royal Artillery in 1914 and since then had steadily risen to the rank of Gunner. Now the crunch: someone with a perverted sense of humour made him a Lance Bombardier. Roberts went insane with power. The war now consisted of two people, him and Hitler.
Some people live a nothing life: the most important thing they ever do is die. Thank God for eccentrics! Take Gunner Octavian Neat. He would suddenly appear naked in a barrack room and say, “Does anybody know a good tailor?”, or “Gentlemen – I think there’s a thief in the battery.” He was the bane of the Regiment.
Actually, I was glad when we left, I couldn’t have kept up this non-stop soldier-all-day – lover-all-night with only cups of tea in between.
The youngest member of this ageing community was ex-variety artiste, Patrick L. Balls. Fifty-nine now, he spent out his remaining years pulling a rope lift and bottling fruit. He had once whistled Ave Maria for Queen Victoria. She wasn’t present at the time, but nevertheless that’s who he was whistling it for.
Money! Father Rudden had tried everything to raise funds to repair the church, he even went to the bank. ‘Don’t be a fool, Father!’ said the manager, ‘Put that gun down.’ Money!
Keep talking Milligan. I think I can get you out on Mental Grounds.’ ‘That’s how I got in, sir.’ ‘Didn’t we all.
Killing of civilians was an outrage I couldn’t swallow on any basis, on any side. In the end there were no sides. Just living and dead.