As a naval officer I abhor the implication that the Royal Navy is a haven for cannibalism. It is well known that we have the problem relatively under control, and that it is the R.A.F. who now suffer the largest casualties in this area.
And what do you think the Argylls ate in Aden? Arabs? Yours etc. Captain B.J. Smethwick in a white wine sauce with shallots, mushrooms and garlic.
Custom of the Sea
‘The traditions of the Royal Navy are rum, sodomy and the lash’?
Said some old white guy.
Cannibalism was not noted.
C: Listen... chaps... there’s still a chance. I’m... done for, I’ve got a gammy leg and I’m going fast; I’ll never get through. But some of you might. So... you’d better eat me.
?: Eat you, sir?
C: Yes. Eat me.
?: Iiuuhh! With a gammy leg?
C: You needn’t eat the leg, Thompson. There’s still plenty of good meat. Look at that arm.
5: It’s not just the leg, sir.
C: What do you mean?
5: Well, sir... it’s just that...
C: Why don’t you want to eat me?
5: I’d rather eat Johnson, sir!
?: So would I, sir.
C: I see.
?: Then that’s decided, everyone’s gonna eat me!
?: Uh, well.
5: What, sir?
?: Go ahead, please, but I won’t -
?: Oh nonsense, sir, you’re starving. Tuck in!
1: No, no, it’s not that.
?: What’s the matter with Johnson, sir?
1: Well, he’s not kosher.
5: That depends how we kill him, sir.
1: Yes, that’s true. But to be perfectly frank I... I like my meat a little more lean. I’d rather eat Hodges.
?: Oh well, all right.
5: I still prefer Johnson.
C: I wish you’d all stop bickering and eat me.
1: Look. I tell you what. Those who want to can eat Johnson. And you, sir, can have my leg. And we make some stock from the Captain, and then we’ll have Johnson cold for supper.
Crew: (cacophonous) Hmm, yes, good idea, excellent thinking, very good, I don’t suppose we could have Hodges in the morning, jolly good idea, etc.