Monsieur Trappist, the beer maker,
Tip top dear boy. Clusters of immaculately clad pilots lurking in the cafes, gadget stores and bookstores of terminals throughout Europe, union cards at the ready.
Callow Second Officers ordered to take the point, exposing themselves to untold dangers, their inexperience and naivety worn like a badge of courage, whilst their seniors sit in ambush waiting for the vicious, licentious soldiery that are the Ryanair crews to shamble past, weighed down by cheap gas station ham and cheese baguettes slowed down by heavy wallets bulging with sector pay.
The carnage hardly bears thinking about: just how much damage can a uniform cap do?
But a small black Le Creuset saucepan secreted in a briefcase??????