The Battle Of Waterloo by “Iron Duke” Hoadley

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“I ‘eard that!…pardon?”

 

Sunday 18th June 1815.

The French attack Wellingtons Army at Mont-Saint-Jean.
One hundred cannon blast the Belgian road.

Wellington is roused from his bed.

“Sir! The French are attacking with cannon”.

“Get my horse”.

“What flavour Sir?”

“What?”

“The sauce Sir”.

“Horse Jones! Horse!”.

“Yes Sir”.

Wellington rides up the Belgian road to
Ohain road. He spots Napoleon moving
Lancers to his right.

“Tell the infantry to use the reverse slope defence”.

“Which one Sir?”

“Which what?”

“Which fence do you want them to mend Sir?”

“Slope defence Jones! Are you mad man!”

“No Sir, it’s the cannon Sir”.

“They are noisy buggers”.

Wellington finds an Elm tree in the middle of
Brussels Road. This would be his command post
for most of the day.

“Take a message to the Scots Greys Jones”.

“Yes Sir”.
“Double to the flank”.

“There’re not open on a Sunday Sir”.

“Who?”

“The bank Sir”.

“What are you talking about Jones?”

“The Scots Grey’s Sir”.

“The flank Jones, the flank!”.

“Yes Sir”.

Napoleon now orders an attack on Hougoumont.
Wellington counters with Infantry and cavalry.

“Jones!”

“Sir!”

“Tell Uxbridge to send in the First Brigade”.

“We don’t have one Sir”.

“What!”

“Fire Brigade Sir”.

“Household Jones! Household Brigade”.

“Right ho Sir”.

Jones returns gasping for breath. He has lost his
horse and has sustained a wound to his arm.

“What happened Jones?”

“Caught in the cross fire Sir”.

“How much Dead?”

“About thirty loaves Sir”.

“For god’s sake Jones, sort those ears out!”

“Where are they Sir?”

“What!?”

“The spears Sir”

“Ears! Jones, ears!”.

“Sir!”

Wellington’s Anglo army has taken a beating. Over the
Horizon come the Prussians. Napoleon has now retreated
to a small square. The end is in sight. After a wave of
heavy cavalry charges, all is lost and Napoleon is defeated.

Wellington lights a cheroot. 

“Is that it Sir, is it over?”.

“Yes Jones, we are victorious”.

“What will happen to Napoleon?”

“He will be exiled”.

“Where to Sir”.

“St Helena”.

“I think he would prefer Wigan Sir”.

A single gun shot pierces the calm of the night air.

 

Did you enjoy that?…No? Well try this mag then. It’s similar but there’s some music in it. Miserable sods!

 http://sozsatire.wix.com/soz-satire

 

 

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