HMS Mohawk, Singapore '77 (!)
It had been a good trip apart from the rather long stay in the Gulf. Having said that, it did help to replenish our bank accounts before we hit Australia (and hit Australia we did!).
After leaving Oz we sailed to HK and then onto 'Singers'.
My abiding memories of Singers always involve Boogie Street:
Discovering that the sun did not rise over Boogie Street and The clash of the small ships against Tiger.
Firstly, lets get a few things straight. I am now running very fast towards 50, I have been pissed since (on several occasions) and my memory may have twisted a few facts to suit the Mighty Mo'. This is how I remember that fateful night…
As usual we all ended up in Boogie St either racing vibrators, playing 'is it or isn’t it' with the kyties or making the waiters dip their hand into the live lobster tanks pretending we wanted this one or that one.
I think the disturbance started in the middle of the street with the Royal Marines (God Bless em) getting excited as they usually do. It quickly spread throughout the whole street. Before long the small ships were lined up at one end and the Tiger at the other. It turned out to be a good old-fashioned punch up with the occasional table or chair being hoisted one way or another.
The Police were called but opted (wisely) to stay on the periphery until we had 'punched our selves out'.
At the end we just sat down and continued with our beers and ordering an Egg Banjo to replace the energy just spent in the last 15 minutes!
The surreal part was that the Police just turned away and took no action against us and the waiters straightened up the tables and chairs around us and continued to serve beer until late.
One thing that deserves a worthy note is the little man who demanded your dollar before you could use the toilet. He remained 'on station' refusing to give way in case we slipped in for a quick piss in his absence. In fact, I think I admired him that much I gave him my newly purchased 6" vibrator (with ridges for stability) that was unbeaten in any race that night.
The next day we were informed that the Big Doc on Tiger was having a wobbly and if any of us were hurt and needed treatment then we better not go running to him (Pompey Bastard).
Oh, those were the days. No knives or guns, just a bunch of lads reinforcing the dislike of one another's homeport.
From the failing memory of Leading Steward Ray Taylor
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