As usual after landing at Aki at "oh Christ" hundred hours to fit in with the "one shift" system run by the main R.A.F. staging post eastbound, we consumed the de rigueur case of beer Keo/Carlsberg (it all came out of the same tap) followed by the combat kip. Lunch was in the Lady Armpit Club mid afternoon because the OM only opened at permanent staff hours. On entering the Mess at 1800 for the pre dinner pitchers of brandy sours, this day the barman Chris (of kebab fame) was alone. "Where is George?" we asked. "George is dead" said Chris. "Bad accident six weeks ago. Very sad. Never see again" Actually dining in the mess this day we were greeted at the door by George. "Hello George" we said. "Chis said you had died" "Is lie" he responded "you have very fine dinner then I make you one good pair of shoes, then I kill myself". It was never the same after they left.