Usually, we get up to the P-O-P, and then we get stopped at this point. Realizing the foolishness of taking the first step towards falling into a trap set forth by a batch of recruits about to become privates, the reply that comes back is often, "P-O-P oh!"
Disgusting.
For those of you who haven't understood the situation by now, I'm in a BP platoon. It means, we pass out 6 weeks later than the PTP platoons. BP means Pes B pending, it means we're slightly overweight and they're trying to get us to lose more weight to get to Pes B status. PTP means Physical Training Phase, for those who are Pes A or B, but failed their IPPT.
Back to disgusting. The PTP's passed out today, leaving two envious platoons and a lot of cookhouse fatigues. Stuff you PTP.
All honestly, a lot of love goes to them for teaching us nonsense, improper footdrills, cooking maggi-mee with irons and mess mugs and a lot of other weird things.
And thank you for giving us a long weekend too. I love Fridays even more this week.
Oh, and 79.5kg down from the initial 91.55kg - take that.
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