Infamy, infamy,
They all have it infamy!
Never take the bullet for a personal screw-up if you can find someone else to blame. So my story is that it was all beer, bratwurst and listening to long, drawn-out tales of the quality of the brake discs on the Porsche 911 with me on track to get Captain Pants back on track, right up until a certain rotary-wing rival Training Captain arrived and first insisted on sharing the sacred Training Captains Office and then went through the place like the Wrath of God. Germans not being into sharing meant that he had to pack out of there and find some outlet for his wounded feelings and a new place to stick up his Nazi Moon Landing posters. There was no living with the c*nt after that.
All I can say is, "Thanks a lot, pal!" I don't care if it really wasn't your fault at all but just one of those things, I am blaming you for it anyway. What did you expect?
You guys just wait small! I will be back, back on top of the Centre of Excrement. Okay, maybe I have to settle for one of those three-wheeler Bajaj thingies for my personal transport but at least it shall be mine, all mine! Hands off that bar card!