I have had this for ages: I seem to recall that it came from an RAF Support Command (ah, as it then was), Safety Review and Digest of the 1960s, so I hope that I am not going to incur any MoDWrath by reproducing it... but it seems too masterly not to pass on...
Aesop for Aviators (with apologies to Stan Unwin)
Once in the era long before the Greddle Squeeze an unmentionable aircrafty was flying from Luddle Heaprow to a Foreign Land. The crew were all from the Country Clump — a body vastly experienced in VIP Frights.
As they neared the moment when they were to reunite the Dundollop roundy-wheels with The Good Old Mother Earth, they entered a Lotty Mount of strato claggimus. This necessitated an instrumental-electromagical letting down.
‘Hello Good Old Mother Earth down there,’ said the Communicator, ‘how is your meaty-roger-tickle Roger Over?
‘Allo Roger Over,’ spoke up the bold Air Traffic Confuser from the Good Old Mother Earth. ‘Ve iss havink ze vind up ze vest, ze driddle am driddling und zer bermetricks of Doo-Niner-Doo-Tree.’
‘Ha-har!’ shouted the Squabling Leader Capital. ‘Why do not these garlic-eating. . . speak in milliminibars instead of hinges of mercy.’
‘Clapting I have converted it to 986.5 miniwhatnots’ said the Communicator.
‘It is set upon the snail on my heighti-meter’ answered the Clapting.
Said the Navvigman ‘You are over the bacon now, turn onto two two two degrades.’ And so they settled onto the Slide path. ‘Mine breaking height is 250 feet above the Good Old Mother Earth’ quoth the Capstan. At 250 feet on his heightimeter they broke through the cloud and there was a tall conifurry tree up to 150 feet above the roots and they missed it by ten foots. And all their hair turned white.
Moral: Hinges of mercy and millibuses mixed in the wrong way can cause many a hair to turn grey.