A couple of tales I remember from my short stint holding on 85 Sqn in 69/70, but I don't know how true they are.
1. One story goes that a jet was transitting to or from the Med and needed to descend a bit sharpish. You will remember that the air brakes were pretty feeble and so the bomb doors were often used as well. So the pilot opened the bomb doors, forgetting that he had a baggage pannier in the bomb bay, which precluded this particular activity. Sure enough the pannier was ripped from its mountings and disappeared into space. When the dust had settled and the pannier was presumed lost forever, the insurance claim went in: 2 Moss Bross DJs plus accessories, 2 Rolex Oysters, 2 Nikons, all that sort of stuff, and the insurance company paid up. Some time later, said pannier was found in a farmer's field pretty much intact and returned with contents to the RAF. The insurance company took an interest at this point and was none too chuffed to find that it had paid out a small fortune for .... some shreddies, a couple of pairs of flip-flops and some factor 15.
2. In another, the pilot of a B2 or similar dropped his chinagraph pencil whilst at altitude, so he bent down to retrieve it and his mic/tel lead became disconnected. At this point the nav spoke to him but received no acknowledgement, and looking around the bulkhead he saw the pilot slumped over the control column, seemingly unconscious. 'Oh God, he's hypoxic. I'd better take over', thought the nav and so he unstrapped, made his way to the pilot and began unstrapping him. Meanwhile, the pilot suddenly found himself being assaulted by the nav and thought, 'Oh God, he's hypoxic. I'd better restrain him', and proceeded to beat the snot out of the him. A fair battle ensued, but I presume that they made it home.
I remember a wonderful winter scene at Cottesmore, when the weight of the snow on the tailplanes of the 20 or so OCU jets tipped the aircraft onto their tails to leave their noses pointing to the heavens.