Air Force Fucking Awful

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Twats in the Ops Room  
(Tune - John Brown's Body)

We had been flying all day long at one hundred fucking feet
The weather fucking awful, fucking rain and fucking sleet
The compass it was swinging fucking South and fucking North
But we made a fucking landfall in the Firth of Fucking Forth

Ain't the Air Force fucking awful?
Ain't the Air Force fucking awful?
Ain't the Air Force fucking awful?
And we made a fucking landfall
In the Firth of Fucking Forth
 

We few the north Atlantic till it made us fucking weep
The sea was fucking wet, fucking cold and fucking deep
Operations room at 30 Wing is simply fucking rotten
And Two Six Nine will be there 'til they're fucking well forgotten

Ain't the Air Force fucking awful?
Ain't the Air Force fucking awful?
Ain't the Air Force fucking awful?
And Two Six Nine will be there 'til they're fucking well forgotten
 

I say Charlie, Charlie? 
Charlie, ain't the Air Force fucking awful?  Over.
Charlie?  Charlie, ain't the Air Force fucking awful?  Over.

We joined the Air Force 'cos we thought it fucking right
But don't care if we bugger fly or fucking fight
But what we do object to are those fucking Ops Room twats
Who sit there sewing stripes on at the rate of fucking knots!

Ain't the Air Force fucking awful?
Ain't the Air Force fucking awful?
Ain't the Air Force fucking awful?
Who sit there sewing stripes on
At the rate of fucking knots!

 


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