Operation Pink Rabbit
I'm bound to get corrected on this, but stories here aren't told under oath. I was there and this is how I remember it (copied from my journal with minor amendments for this audience - one or two more there if you're interested). So here goes.
Whilst on 29 Squadron, I signed-up for a Station Dining-In Night at which we were to say farewell to a certain engineer. He had, shall we say, a reputation for being somewhat long-winded. As he was the senior departing guest, he was bound to have to make a speech. We, the young 'shags' on 29 Squadron, decided that it was up to us to brighten up an otherwise dull event. We hit upon a solution and swung into action in order to prepare for Operation Pink Rabbit.
By the evening of the dinner, everything was in place and awaiting the execute signal from the Senior Flying Officer. The departing engineer rose to his feet and began his dissertation. As expected, it went on a bit. So the signal was given and we sprang into action. The JP was pre-positioned by one of the large sash windows in the Officers' Mess Dining Room. He threw open the window and stood back. In rushed a small, somewhat startled, baby pig wearing a mop cap and a 29 Squadron T-shirt with a helium balloon tied to his tail.
Not surprisingly, this caused a bit of a stir amongst the diners. The little chap trotted proudly around the room, investigating the various titbits that were being surreptitiously dropped under the tables for him. He was having a wonderful time and was on his best behaviour. According to one of the OCU navs, however, he was being a bit too quiet for the ambience of the occasion. He (the nav) decided to strike up a conversation with him (the pig). This encouraged the little porker to start squealing. This, naturally, caused a significant amount of jocularity around the dining room - all except the speaker who was still droning on, totally failing to notice that he was not commanding the total attention of his audience. The fact that he continued to plough-on through his interminable monologue, oblivious to the fact that no one was listening any more, made the whole affair even more humorous. The stifled giggles turned into unstifled ones, which, in turn, became hearty chortles, which, as is so often the way, eventually became raucous laughter.
Eventually, either through the desire to restore some degree of decorum to the proceedings or through a sense of pity for the poor speaker, the rose to his feet and banged his gavel, commanding silence. The riot gradually abated. There was silence apart from Porky who was busy snuffling his way through one gentleman's port. The PMC ordered 'Twenty-nine Squadron, catch that pig!'
You know when you've said the wrong thing, don't you? What happened next can only be described as a comedy classic from the Keystone Cops. Twenty officers of assorted ranks in single file chasing the piglet who, realising that he was about to be down-graded from top-table to sty, was weaving his way through the mess furniture. The laughter was, again, riotous. This went on for fully five minutes until one of the flight commanders managed a flying rugby tackle and captured the creature. Strangely enough, the surname of the flight commander in question was Trotter.
The end result of all that was that 29 Squadron was 'invited' to leave the dinner and were banned, by the Station Commander, from ever mentioning the pig again - hence the term 'pink rabbit.'