Many moons ago I was looking after pleasure flying with a JetRanger at the Bristol Balloon Festival. We had been exceptionally busy and were approaching a time when we needed to stop flying (duty hrs) when a group of four lads asked if we could squeeze them on before we stopped, which we did, getting them on the last flight of the morning. When they landed they got off, thanked us for the flight and disappeared into the crowds.
As I started tidying up the interior ready for the next session I discovered the scrotes had knifed all the seats and sliced through all the rear seat belts.
We had their names on the manifest but guess what?