Genuine ex-army gear being available, who buys it and why ... is a topic which
deserves broader treatment here ... but, for the moment, a magazine article which broadened a few horizons at the time introduces the topic.

"AT THE QUARTERMASTER'S STORE"
This was the title of a slightly rude song popular in the 1939/45 war.
It implied that an army Quartermaster could fix you up with "anything", however strange.

 

In the Nineteen Seventies, when a few ex-army nutter mates started a surplus store with a mountain of genuine government sell-off gear in a warehouse in Islington, their innocent hearts hadn't quite cottoned on to some of the implications of what they were getting into. They supplied the clothes and tackle for films and acted as advisors on the TV series UXB (Unexploded bomb). From the store they also ran what they called a 'battle re-enactment' group.

I took a risk - and it wasn't easy to convince them that some of their regular customers might have surprising hidden depths. The first few sets of reproduction prison manacles I persuaded them to put on display sold like hot cakes, along with a popular line of standard handcuffs. Then a trial run of five reproduction army pattern strait-jackets in efficient working-order sold out in two days ... and the next twenty sold in two weeks ... so the lads suddenly knew there was more to selling government surplus than they'd realised.

That's when I suggested kitting out a 'specialised' area in a remote corner of their moody premises. A wall of good solid steel bars with a seriously lockable entrance gate made a plausible-looking cell. As a display space for a full range of prison irons, wall manacles, strait-jackets and leather restraints it was an impressive sight. An army cot with straps added and a latrine in the corner boggled the minds of a few visitors, but fired up the imaginations of a whole lot more.

Customers lingered, and requests to try-out various items soon had the staff enthusiastic about demonstrating the efficiency of the gear. Men clanking around the store wearing manacles or a strait-jacket became part of the ambience. Don't ask how word got around in those pre-Internet days - but 'The Brig' soon became something of a tourist attraction for a certain kind of shopper - with occasional enquiries about renting the space by the hour or overnight.

Photographer 'Morgan' did a moody photo shoot around the place, pictures from the set became classic. These first appeared in the banned-in-Britain magazine Mister SM - and the ex-army lads who ran the store enjoyed having their horizons widened.

ARTICLE IN MISTER SM MAGAZINE

"AT THE QUARTERMASTER'S STORE"
"Government surplus stores have always been happy hunting grounds for people who are into the more energetic end of man-to-man game-playing.
Not only the uniforms, webbing and gear, but a whole world of useful hooks, pullies, buckles and mysterious pieces of efficient-looking hardware can often be picked up for less than they originally cost to make."

That was the opening statement which introduced Morgan's photo set in the heavy-SM Swedish magazine. My short text continued:-

" ... But be warned. There's a firm line between reality and fantasy. The imaginative piece of fiction by "Morgan" (reproduced below) is what he would like to have happened to him when he dropped by the store, not what did or could possibly happen to you.

If you meet Badger, Big Dave, Micky or Danny when you visit "QUARTERMASTER AT THE ANGEL", don't be afraid to admit what you're into but don't expect them to share your interests. They're all honest, upright, masculine guys and leading figures in the BATTLE RE ENACTMENT SOCIETY. The fact that this involves them roaring around the British countryside at weekends throwing thunder-flashes, firing guns, rolling around in the mud and generally beating the shit out of one another doesn't mean that there's anything kinky about them!

Watch your step if you visit QUARTERMASTER AT THE ANGEL. You may not get what 'Morgan' imagined but you could get a knuckle-sandwich if you make a wrong move.

DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU READ EVEN IN MISTER S/M.
a magazine feature by 'Morgan'

Dear Sir,
I recently visited the Brig at Quartermaster stores in the Angel, London N1. I feel that you should warn your readers that the replica prison equipment which this store sells is in completely working order as was amply demonstrated to me when I recently visited the Brig. I was surprised to find that entry to the shop is strictly controlled: I rang a bell, a military-dressed man leaned out of the window above the door to check me before releasing the electric lock on the door.

Inside, I was surprised to find the assistants wearing chemical protection gear amidst the militaria which I'd seen before for sale in the outer shop. After I'd said I wanted to visit the Brig and foolishly agreed to take part in an equipment trial they said they were carrying out, I felt the clammy and strong grip of the assistant's rubber gloved-hand as my forearm was twisted behind my back in a half-nelson and I felt myself propelled up and down some wooden stairs past various camouflage jackets and trousers on hangers on the walls and unpolished boots littering the floor.

I was taken through some iron gates into a small cell roughly decorated and usefully provided with a slops bucket, was told to take off my leather jacket and ordered to lie and stay face-down on a canvas bed with my hands at my neck and knees bent, until someone arrived to deal with me. I had an uneasy feeling that I was being watched, even after the gate had shut me inside the cell and the soft sound of the assistant's rubber boots had faded so I looked around with extreme caution and without moving my head. What I could see confirmed the fears and sensations I imagined would apply if I was being detained and intimidated before being interrogated the realisation that I couldn't escape either from the Brig or from whatever was in store for me, the many unfamiliar leather, chain and steel devices adorning the cell walls, the cell floor well marked from previous boot scuffles and the walls with graffiti I was just beginning to make out "Service with a smile you serve, we smile" was one) when I heard returning boots and the opening of iron locks and gates.

A military police seargent introduced himself to me and brusquely ordered me to my feet, turned me into a corner, legs apart but pushed out, leaning on my hands. I was asked again in terms I could hardly refuse, considering the submissive position he had put me into if I wished to help with some trials of some of the Fetters equipment which they were going to carry out. I agreed, and immediately found the sergeant ordering my hands behind my back, fastened by handcuffs, which I soon learned were chained to similar cuffs around and over my boots. He left me standing and closed the gate behind him, challenging me to escape, secure with his knowledge that I could not. I have to report that from this time onwards I was completely under the control of the staff of the Brigg and was unable to break out of any of the irons, strait jackets or scolds which the Brig tried out on me as the bruises and strained muscles from my attempts remind me still.

So, to your readers and erstwhile customers: let the buyer beware!

Other army game-playing texts and photos will be added gradually.

PERSONAL FANTASIES
Many visitors to government surplus stores build their own special favourite scenarios around
the gear / the men who wear the gear / the people who man these stores ...
and, with any luck, what could possibly happen

The original HOUDINI CONNECTIONS story (see 'Storylines') describes my take on the subject.
More examples of surplus store fantasies or experiences will be welcomed, e-mail me.

Also check out other links from the main ARMY FILES page