A propos the impossible passenger, the one described so well by Centaurus, that is the Berliner who got the finger, another of that man's ilk was boarding his flight in Frankfurt, bound Luxembourg. This fellow was dressed all in black, with the head gear that proclaimed his faith, along with his general demeanour. As the flight attendant, an Australian fluent in several European languages, greeted him in the doorway he pushed up one sleeve of his coat revealing on his wrist a tattooed string of numerals. He snarled venomously, "You will you know never in a thousand years be forgiven", to which she replied - "Ah sir, you are mistaken. I am an Australian. We were, for your information, on the other side." The man, unplacated, muttered an oath in a language unfamiliar to the FA, though it's import was to her quite obvious, to which she coolly suggested he take his seat, adding softly in the pleasantest tones, "If you are hungry later, during our cabin service, I would be pleased to see if we can't rustle up a nice little ham sandwich for you. Specially."
Yes, she was carpeted. And yes, she was cautioned against ever uttering a racist slur.
That good woman's initials are LC. She may be known to some long-serving QF hands as she later came back to Australia, flying for many years with the national carrier. Incidentally, her dad who flew with the army and later for airlines, is an entertaining repository of numerous well spun tales of a flying life, but unlike Centaurus is uninclined to share them with a wider audience. What a shame.
Centaurus says he thought splashing a bit of the old Brute about might be good for a laugh. Now these sort of potions are not all they're cracked up to be. They can also be so bad that just a faint whiff is enough to cause women to gag. Many's the silly fool who thinks he's irresistible drenched in Old Spice, aka Old Yuck, a powerful repellant, especially when it's turned rancid.
"Ah . .. . but the smell of the bloom was a failure."
It is recorded that Josephine wanted Bonaparte on his return from fighting wars, for weeks, and often months, unwashed, just as is.
But all such aromatics or pheromones are left for dead by the ultimate aphrodisiac - money. Just picture Scrooge McDuck, if he is of your vintage.
Last edited by Fantome; 14th Sep 2012 at 08:12.