Sandal Camp

Boot camps are nasty - all that roaring and spitting instructions inches from peoples' faces, calculated to terrify and break the defective wills of the internees. They just bring the worst out in everyone involved. The instructor's heads get bright red as they dance around swearing like macho half wits, whilst their captive audience never look too happy at the prospect of struggling to negotiate a forest of muddy logs, carrying sacks of stones, or some other equally useless task carried out in festering conditions.

The alternative to all this bone-headed misery is Sandal Camp.

At Sandal Camp no one rises from their comfortable feather beds before noon, as the instructors quietly pad around in sandals, so as not to disturb the tranquillity, while they deliver the breakfasts. No one ever shouts. There are classes to attend in rabbit grooming or hamster gazing, but these are not compulsory as there is always the alternative of 4 hours of hammock testing to be considered, complemented by chill-out album mixing - both equally well paid occupations. Evenings are spent sampling, and reporting on the effectiveness of various euphoria enducing substances, before retiring to a night of blissful somnambulance.... who would want to ever return to the streets?

Don't forget to say: "Hey man - can I have some more?"