Wouldn't happen Down Under where you have to be "Ladder Approved" even to climb an itsy-bitsy ladder in a book shop. Reminds me though of the time I was nearly thrown down from the top rung of a WW2 control tower by an irate RAAF air traffic controller at Point Cook, near Melbourne. Night flying was in progress and as I was last on, I decided to watch the proceedings from the tower. There was no telephone at the base of the tower so I decided the tower bloke wouldn't mind if I watched and may even appreciate a trainee pilot for company.
Having clambered up the fifty or so rungs in my flying suit, fur lined boots and mae west, I reached the top and flung open the door. I was only 18 and teen-agers flung open doors. There was a dim red light inside the tower cab and I was instantly aware of the warm scent of perfume.
Squinting in the dark I could see the form of the controller sitting at his desk with microphone in one hand. Another form sat on his lap giggling and stroking his hair. I recognised the young lady as a WRAAF with a interesting reputation.
The tower operator didn't miss a beat, his hand clasped lovingly over one delicious boob. "Wirraway 745 - cleared touch and go runway 17 - PISS OFF, TRAINEE." His girl friend was no trainee that's for sure, so I gathered it was me he was referring to. With that I withdrew with as much dignity a trainee pilot could muster and left them both to it.
Such was my haste to tell my mates about the lucky sod in the tower that I slipped and fell off the ladder but survived. On reflection at the time, I figured if I was scrubbed off pilots course I would apply to remuster as an ATC where interesting opportunities for nocturnal dalliances existed.