BigSaltyDog

From Giant Windmill to Tank Armour & a Plough — Salty Has Found the Ultimate Use for Old Turbine Blades! By BigSaltyDog News — where recycling meets complete and utter nonsense. There are some stories you read and immediately think, “Fair play, that's actually a brilliant idea.” Then there are stories that make you think, “Hang on a minute… could we stick one of those on a Leopard 2?” Welcome to the latest episode of BigSaltyDog Engineering Solutions, where Stg. Salty has discovered that old wind-turbine blades can be given a second life — and, naturally, his first thought wasn't a community bench. It wasn't a picnic table. It wasn't a bike shelter. No. Salty looked at one of those enormous turbine blades and apparently saw only one thing: TANK ARMOUR. And possibly... THE BIGGEST PLOUGH IRELAND HAS EVER SEEN. --- The real story: what happens to old turbine blades? Wind turbines are built to operate for decades, but eventually components reach the end of their workin...

 Final Chapter — The S Team Is Ready! The sun was beginning to disappear behind the hills. The training ground was quiet. For once. No explosions. No shouting. No drones crashing into trees. No one asking where the sandwiches were. It was almost peaceful. Almost. Stg. Salty stood beside the Leopard 2 and looked across his Misfits. He had seen enough. They had trained together. They had argued together. They had broken things together. They had fixed things together. And, most importantly, they had laughed together. Now it was time to find out whether all that chaos had actually created something useful. A team. --- WhizzAir launched the DJI drone one final time. It rose into the evening sky. Everyone looked upwards. The drone flew straight. No trees. No bushes. No buildings. No disasters. WhizzAir smiled. “Beautiful.” McFinleyyy looked impressed. “You finally learned how to fly it.” WhizzAir nodded proudly. Then the drone immediately started drifting sideways. WhizzAir grabbed the ...

 Chapter 5 — The Misfits Assemble The Leopard 2 sat at the edge of the training ground, engine ticking over. Inside, Stg. Salty looked around at his crew. This was no longer a collection of random lunatics. This was a team. A highly questionable team. But a team nonetheless. Salty picked up the radio. “Right, everyone. Today's exercise is different.” McFinleyyy looked over. “How different?” “We're combining everyone's abilities.” There was silence. Quags looked interested. Quagmire stopped eating. Finholio put down his polishing cloth. Sarah and Susan exchanged a glance. Ye Olde Large Lad flexed. WhizzAir looked towards his drone. Salty continued. “Everyone has a job. Everyone sticks to it. Nobody improvises.” Finholio raised his hand. “Does that include me?” “Yes.” “That's unfortunate.” --- The Reconnaissance Department WhizzAir was first. He launched his DJI drone. It climbed into the sky and began surveying the training area. WhizzAir stared at the screen. “Eyes up.”...

 Chapter 4 — Ye Olde Large Lad Gets Serious The sun wasn't even properly awake. The Misfits were. Well... most of them. Inside the makeshift training camp, McFinleyyy was drinking coffee, Govna was looking for breakfast, WhizzAir was checking his drone batteries and Finholio was polishing something that probably didn't need polishing. Then came the noise. CLANG. Everyone stopped. CLANG. Quags looked up. CLANG. Quagmire sighed. “Oh no.” McFinleyyy nodded. “He's started.” From inside the gym came another enormous metallic CLANG. Ye Olde Large Lad was awake. --- He stood in front of the weights. Silent. Focused. Serious. The sort of serious normally reserved for people defusing bombs or trying to assemble IKEA furniture without instructions. He looked at the barbell. Then at himself in the mirror. He nodded. “Today...” He paused. “...we train.” He grabbed the bar. CLANG! The first lift. CLANG! The second. CLANG! The third. His muscles were working overtime. Sweat poured down h...

 Chapter 3 — Cha Ching! Sarah and Susan Enter the Danger Zone The following morning, Stg. Salty made one enormous mistake. He asked Sarah and Susan if they fancied a training mission. He should have known better. Sarah looked at Susan. Susan looked at Sarah. Then they both smiled. “Oh yes.” McFinleyyy immediately became concerned. “Why did you say that?” Sarah picked up her training helmet. “Because we're going on a mission.” Susan grabbed her gear. “And we're going to have some fun.” Salty narrowed his eyes. “Training mission.” Sarah smiled innocently. “Of course.” Susan nodded. “Completely controlled.” Salty still wasn't convinced. --- The Misfits arrived at the training ground shortly afterwards. The Leopard 2 was parked nearby. WhizzAir's DJI drone was already buzzing overhead. McFinleyyy was checking the radios. Govna had somehow found a sandwich. Quags was doing absolutely nothing. Quagmire was doing even less. Finholio was polishing the Leopard 2. And Ye Olde Lar...

  Chapter 2 — The Misfits Go to War The morning had started badly. By lunchtime, it had become ridiculous. By three o'clock, Stg. Salty was sitting inside a Leopard 2 tank wondering how his life had come to this. Outside, the Misfits were preparing for their first major training exercise. Salty looked through the hatch. McFinleyyy was arguing with Govna. Quags was eating. Quagmire was also eating. Sarah and Susan were standing beside the tank, wearing their combat gear and looking considerably more organised than everybody else. Finholio was polishing the Leopard 2 with the concentration of a man restoring a priceless piece of art. And then there was Ye Olde Large Lad. He was lifting weights. Again. Salty shook his head. “Why is he lifting weights?” McFinleyyy looked up. “Apparently we're going on an adventure.” “And?” “He wants to be prepared.” “For what?” McFinleyyy shrugged. “Apparently the tank might break down and he'll have to carry it.” Salty stared at him. “That is ...

 Chapter 1 — Operation: Don’t Panic Stg. Salty and the Misfits Prepare for War There are moments in life when a man looks around, takes a deep breath and asks himself one very important question. “Are we completely screwed?” For Stg. Salty, that moment came on a cold Wednesday morning when he was sitting outside the pub, drinking a cup of tea and watching the news. The headlines were full of Russia, NATO, drones, borders and the sort of phrases that made ordinary people quietly reconsider their holiday plans. Salty stared at the television. He took another sip. Then he slowly put down his mug. “Right.” McFinleyyy looked up from his phone. “What?” “We're preparing.” “For what?” “War.” McFinleyyy stared at him. “Against who?” “I haven't decided yet.” “That seems important.” Salty ignored him. “Get the lads.” --- Twenty minutes later, the Misfits assembled. McFinleyyy. Govna. Senior Miguel. WhizzAir. Quags. Quagmire. Sarah. Susan. And then there was a new face. The pub door opened...