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Rh forty-nine was R.A.T.A., the one an' honly hexception bein' that wicked Cully 'Ookit. Did 'e sit hon the steps o' the Hofficers' Mess a playin' of 'is little bugle in 'is spare time to give 'is kind Orficers pleasure, as 'Orrice 'ad useter do? Not 'alf 'e didn't. Ho no! I don't fink. No, all ’is spare time was a took up in the Canteen where 'e loved ter set an' 'ear the pop o' the ginger-beer an' lemonade bottles a bein' opened for the good, self-respectin', total habstainin' men as was in the 'abit of rottin' their g—"

Mrs. Perfect coughed loudly.

"—good hinteriors wiv sich gashious swipes. An' one day that abandoned young bloke. Cully 'Ookit, wot did 'e do but walk inter the Canteen, plank down 'alf a rupee, say as 'ow 'e were froze to 'is marrer along o' fallin' in the water when fishin', an' called fer a go o' rum, 'ot, wiv. Strike me purple! You should ha' seen the commotion there was in that Regiment o' good, self-respectin', total habstainin' men! Talk abaht never givin' their Colonel a moment's anxiety! Five 'undred of 'em run straight off to 'is bungalow to tell 'im wot 'ad 'appened, one 'undred