A pair of ghillie brogues tapped loudly across the halls as everyone rested in the lounge room, the footsteps resounded throughout maybe the whole base, and getting closer.

"Blimey, bet it's Johnny." Ghost grumbled, who snatched the remote from you and was now busy flicking through the TV channels, trying to find the football match he was about to miss.

" 'E's been raving since yesterday about the packages his mum sent 'im from Edinburgh." Price added, busy fighting over the popcorn with Gaz.

Sure enough, there a proud, shirtless Johnny stood, in a nice red kilt, slightly wrinkled since it was mailed from far away, and in those clippety clop leather shoes, standing on display for everyone to adore.

"... nice skirt, Johnny." Ghost grumbled.

"Nae, is nawt that, mate. If ah was wearing an'thing under it, it'd be a skirt." Soap grinned.