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My old man was stopped by a couple of squaddies in the vicinity of the Limestone Rd when he was a kid. " 'ere — spell hat" came the challenge. Turns to the other after the response and says "Told you.".
/csd
DayTripper_Mk2-
I learnt more about what went on back home after I moved away than I ever did living there. Who knew growing up in a protestant family (grandfather in the TA, grandmother an orange woman, uncles in flute bands), going to school in a protestant town (Newtownards) meant you only got one side of the story. And when we were ever stopped, my Dad's very handy protestant surname meant we just got merrily waved on our way, so I saw none of what others had to put up with.
Making friends since with ex-squaddies was eye opening, and stomach churning. And you usually get one of two types; either they loved it as they had free reign to fuck with anyone they thought was remotely catholic (an ex-colleague laughed when he told me a story of when their rural post was being pinged by what was clearly kids with air rifles or BB guns, so they just emptied their machine guns in the vague direction it was coming from), or they can't stand that they had any part in it. I also met someone (through work I was doing with the Met) who used to be high up in counter intelligence and is now (or was when I met him) head of security for a large museum group. To say he liked a drink would be an understatement, and the stories he would tell after said drinks made that all the more understandable.
stevo_com
Also shoots you if you say the 'h' the wrong way ;)