A Matelot is not born...he is made out of leftovers. God built the world and the animals and then recycled the gash to create this dastardly weapon. He took the leftover roar of the lion, the howl of the hyena, the clumsiness of the ox, the stubbornness of the mule, the slyness of the fox, the wildness of the bull and the pride of a peacock then added the filthy evil mind of the devil to satisfy his weird sense of humour.
A Matelot evolved into a crude combination of John Dillinger, Errol Flynn, Beau Brummel and Valentino: a swashbuckling, beer-swilling, love-maker. A Matelot likes girls, rum, beer, fights, uckers, runs ashore, pubs, jokes, long leave and his mates. He hates Officers, rounds, divisions, saluting middies, reggies, joss men, navy scran and...his turn in t...he barrel !!
He is brave drinking beer, abusive playing crib, brutal defending his pride and passionate making love. He can start a brawl, create a disaster, offend the law, desert his ship, make you lose your money, your temper and your mind. He can take your sister, your mother, your aunt and, when he is caught, get his Divisional Officer to vouch for his integrity.
A Matelot is loved by all mothers, sisters, aunts and nieces but hated by all fathers, brothers, uncles and nephews. He has a girl in every port and breaks more hearts and causes more fights than any other man yet, when he is off to sea, he is missed more than any other.
A Matelot is a mean, hard drinking, fast running son-of-a-bitch but, when you are in trouble, he is a strong shoulder to lean on, a pillar of wisdom and a defender of the faith and cause. He fights for his mate and dies for his country without question or hesitation.
This is a Matelot and I'm so f****ng proud to have been one
Anon