Aww, c'mon Flyboy...
What happened to the Brotherhood Of The Sky, that merry band of aviators gazing into the sunset with a steely glare? Aren't they meant to bond or something before going back to where the mirrors are so they can admire themselves in their RayBans, big watches and leather jackets in 43 deg C heat. Swapping tales of derring do in the pub after a hard day's slipping the surly bonds whilst stroking their RAF handlebar moustaches then heading home to an orgy of onanism as they fondle their epaulettes.
Or is that stockbrokers...?
