Funny Things Happen in The Air Force
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Enjoying the thread. Found this today; anyone want to own up?
Not Always Right | Funny & Stupid Customer Quotes When Judgment Is Clouded
Not Always Right | Funny & Stupid Customer Quotes When Judgment Is Clouded
(We give weather forecast information for Royal Air Force aircrew officers for fast jet flying.) Caller: “Hi this is flying officer [name] with [squadron]. I need the weather for 5 hours time on the west coast.”
Me: “So that’s the forecast pressure, wind and cloud cover?”
Caller: “No, I don’t want the forecast conditions. I want the actual weather for 5 hours ahead.”
Me: “I can only do actuals for what’s happened, but I can give my best forecast.”
Caller: “No, that’s not good enough. I don’t want forecasts. I want to know what’s going to actually happen!”
(Someone else takes the call.)
Caller 2: “Hi this is [squadron] navigator. Sorry about that. Can I get the forecast conditions for him, please?”
Me: “So that’s the forecast pressure, wind and cloud cover?”
Caller: “No, I don’t want the forecast conditions. I want the actual weather for 5 hours ahead.”
Me: “I can only do actuals for what’s happened, but I can give my best forecast.”
Caller: “No, that’s not good enough. I don’t want forecasts. I want to know what’s going to actually happen!”
(Someone else takes the call.)
Caller 2: “Hi this is [squadron] navigator. Sorry about that. Can I get the forecast conditions for him, please?”
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The scene:
RAF Guterloh was closing. The Army was moving in and about to change all 5188ft of runway into a parking lot for 3 tonners or something.
We are at the guardroom. SAC Snooks is on duty. An Army Staff Car flying a pennant rolls up:
Snooks: May I see your ID please, Sir. Politely.
Top Rodney: Don't you know who I am? Officious
Snooks: No Sir. If I knew who you were, I wouldn't have to ask for your ID now, would I sir? Still a polite tone.
Top Rodney: Do you know this place will be Princess XXXX Barracks in 3 months? High handed tone of voice.
Snooks: Yessir!
Top Rodney: Well? Expectantly
Snooks: Sir?
Top Rodney: Are you going to let me in? High handed tone of voice
Snooks: I think you had better come back in 3 months, Sir when this place is XXXXXXXXXXXXXX Barracks
RAF Guterloh was closing. The Army was moving in and about to change all 5188ft of runway into a parking lot for 3 tonners or something.
We are at the guardroom. SAC Snooks is on duty. An Army Staff Car flying a pennant rolls up:
Snooks: May I see your ID please, Sir. Politely.
Top Rodney: Don't you know who I am? Officious
Snooks: No Sir. If I knew who you were, I wouldn't have to ask for your ID now, would I sir? Still a polite tone.
Top Rodney: Do you know this place will be Princess XXXX Barracks in 3 months? High handed tone of voice.
Snooks: Yessir!
Top Rodney: Well? Expectantly
Snooks: Sir?
Top Rodney: Are you going to let me in? High handed tone of voice
Snooks: I think you had better come back in 3 months, Sir when this place is XXXXXXXXXXXXXX Barracks
Newly promoted Cpl 4mastacker was on shift on a large Oxfordshire airbase which operated some large, shiny, new aircraft numbered in the 'XR' and 'XV' series and some older ones in the 'XL', 'XM', and 'XN' series. He had drawn the short straw to accompany the new OC POL on his weekly dips. The new OC POL was keen and, with rapid career progression ambitions, had obviously listened to, and taken on board his fuels training and was meticulous, nay, obsessive, about water detection checks. Every dipstick and tape had copious amounts of water detection paste applied during the course of his checks. On this particular occasion, each tank was dipped and water checked without a problem until we reached an old aviation fuel installation that had been converted for the storage of other bulk liquids.
As one of the team lowered the dipstick into a tank, OC POL shouted "Cpl 4ma!! There's no paste on the dipstick". "We don't use paste on this one sir, it's...". " I want detection paste on every dip stick". " But it's.." " Don't argue Cpl, I said I want detection paste on every dip-stick". "Very well sir, as you direct"
Cpl 4ma applies a small amount of paste and lowers the dip stick into the tank. Out comes the dipstick and, lo and behold, the paste has changed colour. "Water!" exclaims the OC POL "Cpl!! There's water in that fuel". "Yes, sir" says Cpl 4ma in a resigned sort of tone. "Put more paste on the dip stick". "But, sir..." " Cpl I've already told you once, do I have to repeat myself? I want detection paste on that dip-stick". Cpl 4ma complies with the instruction and puts more paste on the dip-stick. This process is repeated until the whole bl**dy dip stick is covered in the stuff and OC POL is bordering on having an apoplexy. "We are not allowed any water in the fuel and according to the dipstick, that tank is full of water!! There is obviously a very serious problem here".
" Yes Sir, there is a problem here. Now Sir, if I can be allowed to explain. The tank we are dipping is not fuel, it is what is known as a miscellaneous fluid. To be precise, sir, it is AL28, which is also known as Water Methanol…. there is a clue in the description…....Sir". Did he learn??. Only after he decided to do a water detection check on a pressurised, pre-heated black heating oil tanker and found himself standing in a group of one as the rest of us departed, rapidly, to a safe distance. Afterwards, the FS POL conducted a closed door, but very loud, WTF-type de-brief with OC POL giving him a good listening to.
Many, many years later, the now FS 4ma is tasked to brief a visiting a group of students from a training base near Sleaford, led by... you guessed it, his former OC POL who, after a scintillating career in the RAF, had now reached the rank of Flt Lt.
As one of the team lowered the dipstick into a tank, OC POL shouted "Cpl 4ma!! There's no paste on the dipstick". "We don't use paste on this one sir, it's...". " I want detection paste on every dip stick". " But it's.." " Don't argue Cpl, I said I want detection paste on every dip-stick". "Very well sir, as you direct"
Cpl 4ma applies a small amount of paste and lowers the dip stick into the tank. Out comes the dipstick and, lo and behold, the paste has changed colour. "Water!" exclaims the OC POL "Cpl!! There's water in that fuel". "Yes, sir" says Cpl 4ma in a resigned sort of tone. "Put more paste on the dip stick". "But, sir..." " Cpl I've already told you once, do I have to repeat myself? I want detection paste on that dip-stick". Cpl 4ma complies with the instruction and puts more paste on the dip-stick. This process is repeated until the whole bl**dy dip stick is covered in the stuff and OC POL is bordering on having an apoplexy. "We are not allowed any water in the fuel and according to the dipstick, that tank is full of water!! There is obviously a very serious problem here".
" Yes Sir, there is a problem here. Now Sir, if I can be allowed to explain. The tank we are dipping is not fuel, it is what is known as a miscellaneous fluid. To be precise, sir, it is AL28, which is also known as Water Methanol…. there is a clue in the description…....Sir". Did he learn??. Only after he decided to do a water detection check on a pressurised, pre-heated black heating oil tanker and found himself standing in a group of one as the rest of us departed, rapidly, to a safe distance. Afterwards, the FS POL conducted a closed door, but very loud, WTF-type de-brief with OC POL giving him a good listening to.
Many, many years later, the now FS 4ma is tasked to brief a visiting a group of students from a training base near Sleaford, led by... you guessed it, his former OC POL who, after a scintillating career in the RAF, had now reached the rank of Flt Lt.
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RAF Patrington [Master Radar Sation....near Hull] 1965.
SAC Chiglet has just returned from Borneo. It is a bright, warm summer day, when F/O bloggs RAF Reg decids that as we are "going on the Range" next week, we will learn how to use the then "New" [to the RAF] SLR
In a typical Wodney voice, he starts to describe how to strip said SLR, but SAC Chiglet "learned" how to use the weapon with the Army in Borneo.
As Wodney starts to ramble, my SLR is in its component bits....and I mean bits. Wodney goes ballistic..."You follow my instructions, airman"
"Yessir" says I, rapidly reassembling the SLR [Scene from "Carry on Sergeant" springs to mind]
It turns out that all he wanted was for us to clear the weapon.
However, on the Range, I did have a jam, and couldn't clear it, the "Official" way. Wodney had a rant, but he couldn't clear it, neither could the RAF Reg Sgt. Turns out that it had a defective round extractor..
Could I have sorted it? Prolly not. That's why I was an ADO
SAC Chiglet has just returned from Borneo. It is a bright, warm summer day, when F/O bloggs RAF Reg decids that as we are "going on the Range" next week, we will learn how to use the then "New" [to the RAF] SLR
In a typical Wodney voice, he starts to describe how to strip said SLR, but SAC Chiglet "learned" how to use the weapon with the Army in Borneo.
As Wodney starts to ramble, my SLR is in its component bits....and I mean bits. Wodney goes ballistic..."You follow my instructions, airman"
"Yessir" says I, rapidly reassembling the SLR [Scene from "Carry on Sergeant" springs to mind]
It turns out that all he wanted was for us to clear the weapon.
However, on the Range, I did have a jam, and couldn't clear it, the "Official" way. Wodney had a rant, but he couldn't clear it, neither could the RAF Reg Sgt. Turns out that it had a defective round extractor..
Could I have sorted it? Prolly not. That's why I was an ADO
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Chiefy Goddard
Circa 1964 a 90 Sqn Valiant XD863 was in the hangar at RAF Honington being subject to a major service, I was replacing a faulty Orange Putter cable that ran from the cockpit bulkhead right up to the tail. This involved removing numerous panels each one held in place with wirelocked bolts, a job that was anticipated to take about two days. The Crew Chief was the infamous Gerry “Effing” Goddard and Gerry told me to take a break and go for a coffee. I willingly agreed and went to the hangar coffee bar, quite a number of groundcrew were already there, playing cards or reading newspapers. I had just picked up my coffee when in stormed our Gerry shouting words to the effect “ I told you blank blank lot to get out and work on the blank aircraft”. This was combined with Gerry snatching up the playing cards and newspapers and throwing them out of the window, rapidly followed by the crew rushing into the corridor towards the hangar.
I assumed Gerry did not mean me, so I stood my ground only for a hand to grab the collar of my overalls, then another on by behind, I was spun round and ejected into the corridor and landed up against the wall, next second same hands, same grip, I assumed I was now to be propelled into the hangar, only to be spun round and thrown back into the coffee bar with the words “sorry wrong one”.
Gerry may have been somewhat hard on us but just a couple of days later we were stopped by Gerry’s wife who asked how was Gerry acting at work, we told her he was a bit grumpy at the moment and she just nodded. The next day Gerry called us all together and said “ Look chaps whatever happens at work don’t tell the wife, she’s giving me hell!”
I assumed Gerry did not mean me, so I stood my ground only for a hand to grab the collar of my overalls, then another on by behind, I was spun round and ejected into the corridor and landed up against the wall, next second same hands, same grip, I assumed I was now to be propelled into the hangar, only to be spun round and thrown back into the coffee bar with the words “sorry wrong one”.
Gerry may have been somewhat hard on us but just a couple of days later we were stopped by Gerry’s wife who asked how was Gerry acting at work, we told her he was a bit grumpy at the moment and she just nodded. The next day Gerry called us all together and said “ Look chaps whatever happens at work don’t tell the wife, she’s giving me hell!”
IOT Cranditz, mid 80s. Drill. Prospective WRAF PTI unable to do "stan dat ICE" properly due to big thigh muscles and tight skirt. After nth attempt, Rockape FS shouts "Don't you know what 12 inches looks like, Miss H...?".
"OH, YES!! Flight Sargeant". Only time I've seen a DI lost for words.
Brawdy in deepest Welsh Wales, late 80s. BIG party at Air Show (e.g. 2 F16s invited, 16 show up. 2 Tornados became 8, etc). Rummage around in 234 Sqn loft has turned up WWII gun camera film, rapidly converted to video for backdrop at Aircrew P*ssup. Much amusement for all, including Luftwaffe/Marine FJ types, until a German Transall crew turns up. Captain sees video & stomps off, demanding all his crew follow. Dutch F16 dude shouts "Can't take a joke - shouldn't have started it!"
Location joke: Try explaining to a German policeman, in French (my German's rubbish), why a Norwegian pilot in a British flight suit is hanging upside-down from a lamp-post 20 foot off the ground singing rude songs, at 2am. Talk about looking after your wingie. Arrests avoided.
"OH, YES!! Flight Sargeant". Only time I've seen a DI lost for words.
Brawdy in deepest Welsh Wales, late 80s. BIG party at Air Show (e.g. 2 F16s invited, 16 show up. 2 Tornados became 8, etc). Rummage around in 234 Sqn loft has turned up WWII gun camera film, rapidly converted to video for backdrop at Aircrew P*ssup. Much amusement for all, including Luftwaffe/Marine FJ types, until a German Transall crew turns up. Captain sees video & stomps off, demanding all his crew follow. Dutch F16 dude shouts "Can't take a joke - shouldn't have started it!"
Location joke: Try explaining to a German policeman, in French (my German's rubbish), why a Norwegian pilot in a British flight suit is hanging upside-down from a lamp-post 20 foot off the ground singing rude songs, at 2am. Talk about looking after your wingie. Arrests avoided.
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Late 90's.....an airbase somewhere 'just' south of Iraq
We were there on ops but the Regt Section decided that we didn't live under enough stress so we would have a practice Scud attack. Our boss decided that rather than all suit up and mask up, we would just hide in the 'Snake Pit' - an underground air raid shelter converted into a recreational facility complete with TV, games console etc. Junior navigator was posted at the bottom of the stairs leading down to Snake Pit to warn of approaching Regt snoopers.
The 'All Clear' was sounded and a Regt Sgt appeared in the shelter.
"Right, now you need to send someone outside to do a sniff test and see if its safe to go outside"
The boss says "You go and do it, Sgt"
"No, no, Sir. You need to send one of your men outside"
The boss pulled himself up to about 4 inches shorter than the Regt Sgt and said.....
"F**k off, Sgt. All my aircrew are much more expensive than you so you go outside and do the test. Come back and tell us if its safe. If you don't come back, we'll assume its not safe and we'll stay here and watch another episode of Coronation Street"
Regt Sgt quickly left the room....reported boss to Base Detachment Cdr who told Regt Sgt to wind his neck in.
We were there on ops but the Regt Section decided that we didn't live under enough stress so we would have a practice Scud attack. Our boss decided that rather than all suit up and mask up, we would just hide in the 'Snake Pit' - an underground air raid shelter converted into a recreational facility complete with TV, games console etc. Junior navigator was posted at the bottom of the stairs leading down to Snake Pit to warn of approaching Regt snoopers.
The 'All Clear' was sounded and a Regt Sgt appeared in the shelter.
"Right, now you need to send someone outside to do a sniff test and see if its safe to go outside"
The boss says "You go and do it, Sgt"
"No, no, Sir. You need to send one of your men outside"
The boss pulled himself up to about 4 inches shorter than the Regt Sgt and said.....
"F**k off, Sgt. All my aircrew are much more expensive than you so you go outside and do the test. Come back and tell us if its safe. If you don't come back, we'll assume its not safe and we'll stay here and watch another episode of Coronation Street"
Regt Sgt quickly left the room....reported boss to Base Detachment Cdr who told Regt Sgt to wind his neck in.
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It’s just possible that some on this site may relate to this tale….
30 MU, RAF Sealand, early 70’s, E&I Wing workshops were 50-50 service/civilian manned, ruled with a rod of iron by WO Triggs and FS Mick Thurston, with the civvies either ex-RAF ( e.g. Chris Clynes, Paddy Howlett, Ron Howell) or, like the writer, graduates of the on-site MCCTTS* . This integration also extended to the social activities such as the Expedition Club, which organised an annual Scottish trip using the Auchallater bothy near Braemar, administered by RAF Leuchars.
On this particular occasion, the trip had been arranged by Cpl. A., but he found himself unavailable to lead the trip. At the final briefing on the Thursday before the Friday departure, Cpl. A. handed the lead over to Cpl. B., a relatively new member of the Exped. Club with the assurance that all arrangements had been made, and a signal sent to Leuchars with an ETA at the Guardroom for collection of the bothy key. His parting comment was “ Hey, Pugwash, you’ve done this trip a couple of times, you can act as 2i/c, and BTW, the Nuffield minibus is not available, so I’ve booked one from MT”
Now, the cunning plan was to depart after work at 16:30 on the Friday evening, and drive to Leuchars, with a fuel stop at RAF Carlisle, arriving in Fife in the early hours of the morning, collect the bothy key, then head off to Braemar to get some sleep.
The MT J2 turned out to be a heap of junk, but loaded with JT’s, civvies, rucksacks and compo ration packs, we set off for Scotland, arriving at Leuchars about an hour and a half after our notified ETA of 01:00.
Cpl. B. enters Guardroom to obtain bothy key, and returns empty-handed, then asks me to return with him to explain to duty dog the routine for key collection. Having done so, the duty dog confirms that the key is not available at the guardroom, then helpfully suggests that the Phys. Ed officer could issue it. Despite our protestations, he then proceeds to ring up said officer ( at 02:40hrs) , and when eventually it is answered, he has to hold it at arms length for a short while. Having hung up, he says that the Phys. Ed officer wants to see us in his office at 09:00 later in the morning, so we all crashed out in the Guardroom until then.
As was the civvy fashion in the 70’s I normally had my hair rather long ( think Cavalier King Charles spaniel) but shortly prior to this trip, I had been to a family wedding, so my locks were unusually shorn, almost passable as a servicemans.
Anyway, Cpl. B. and myself made our way to gym office at the appointed time to see Flt. Lt. C. and were immediately subjected to a tirade of abuse and invective, being made aware in no uncertain terms that the Flt. Lt. was not at all happy for his slumbers to be disturbed in the early hours. When the rant eventually wound down, Cpl. B. very quietly said “ I haven’t done this trip before, but Mr. Pugwash has, so I have asked him to accompany me to explain”.
Cue long pause while Flt. Lt does a good impression of a goldfish. You could almost see a thought bubble “ Mr.???? This spotty oik is much too young to be a WO …..Have I just b0ll0cked a civilian?”
Then, “ Both of you get out of my sight, and think yourselves lucky I am letting you have the key” .
Well, we found it funny, and the rest of the trip was fairly uneventful.
Oh, the reason the key was not available at the Guardroom, ---- Cpl. A had indeed sent a signal to Leuchars, but it said ETA was 1 o’clock Saturday, not 01:00 Saturday.
* Maintenance Command Civilian Technical Training School
30 MU, RAF Sealand, early 70’s, E&I Wing workshops were 50-50 service/civilian manned, ruled with a rod of iron by WO Triggs and FS Mick Thurston, with the civvies either ex-RAF ( e.g. Chris Clynes, Paddy Howlett, Ron Howell) or, like the writer, graduates of the on-site MCCTTS* . This integration also extended to the social activities such as the Expedition Club, which organised an annual Scottish trip using the Auchallater bothy near Braemar, administered by RAF Leuchars.
On this particular occasion, the trip had been arranged by Cpl. A., but he found himself unavailable to lead the trip. At the final briefing on the Thursday before the Friday departure, Cpl. A. handed the lead over to Cpl. B., a relatively new member of the Exped. Club with the assurance that all arrangements had been made, and a signal sent to Leuchars with an ETA at the Guardroom for collection of the bothy key. His parting comment was “ Hey, Pugwash, you’ve done this trip a couple of times, you can act as 2i/c, and BTW, the Nuffield minibus is not available, so I’ve booked one from MT”
Now, the cunning plan was to depart after work at 16:30 on the Friday evening, and drive to Leuchars, with a fuel stop at RAF Carlisle, arriving in Fife in the early hours of the morning, collect the bothy key, then head off to Braemar to get some sleep.
The MT J2 turned out to be a heap of junk, but loaded with JT’s, civvies, rucksacks and compo ration packs, we set off for Scotland, arriving at Leuchars about an hour and a half after our notified ETA of 01:00.
Cpl. B. enters Guardroom to obtain bothy key, and returns empty-handed, then asks me to return with him to explain to duty dog the routine for key collection. Having done so, the duty dog confirms that the key is not available at the guardroom, then helpfully suggests that the Phys. Ed officer could issue it. Despite our protestations, he then proceeds to ring up said officer ( at 02:40hrs) , and when eventually it is answered, he has to hold it at arms length for a short while. Having hung up, he says that the Phys. Ed officer wants to see us in his office at 09:00 later in the morning, so we all crashed out in the Guardroom until then.
As was the civvy fashion in the 70’s I normally had my hair rather long ( think Cavalier King Charles spaniel) but shortly prior to this trip, I had been to a family wedding, so my locks were unusually shorn, almost passable as a servicemans.
Anyway, Cpl. B. and myself made our way to gym office at the appointed time to see Flt. Lt. C. and were immediately subjected to a tirade of abuse and invective, being made aware in no uncertain terms that the Flt. Lt. was not at all happy for his slumbers to be disturbed in the early hours. When the rant eventually wound down, Cpl. B. very quietly said “ I haven’t done this trip before, but Mr. Pugwash has, so I have asked him to accompany me to explain”.
Cue long pause while Flt. Lt does a good impression of a goldfish. You could almost see a thought bubble “ Mr.???? This spotty oik is much too young to be a WO …..Have I just b0ll0cked a civilian?”
Then, “ Both of you get out of my sight, and think yourselves lucky I am letting you have the key” .
Well, we found it funny, and the rest of the trip was fairly uneventful.
Oh, the reason the key was not available at the Guardroom, ---- Cpl. A had indeed sent a signal to Leuchars, but it said ETA was 1 o’clock Saturday, not 01:00 Saturday.
* Maintenance Command Civilian Technical Training School
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RAF Deci, the pimple of Italy,
Tasked to go out and defuel Hotel so the Armourers with their manual crux bars can remove the droptanks off the Mighty Jag, Job done, and out go the armourers to remove the tanks for the fun and games..... almighty bang as they decrux the tank and it hits the ground at warp factor 9 splitting open and disgorging its full contents all over the apron......
One Irate Armourer Chief suddenly in front of my face after passing through the sound barrier when he sees my location, wh"*&!)*$*"()( F(£*"$ you ")$*$! told you to defuel Hotel "(£$**&$&% etc etc etc... Not a happy chappie
"I did" I replied, "but why are you are taking the tanks of Juliet?, that is full"!
And then it sunk in...
Tasked to go out and defuel Hotel so the Armourers with their manual crux bars can remove the droptanks off the Mighty Jag, Job done, and out go the armourers to remove the tanks for the fun and games..... almighty bang as they decrux the tank and it hits the ground at warp factor 9 splitting open and disgorging its full contents all over the apron......
One Irate Armourer Chief suddenly in front of my face after passing through the sound barrier when he sees my location, wh"*&!)*$*"()( F(£*"$ you ")$*$! told you to defuel Hotel "(£$**&$&% etc etc etc... Not a happy chappie
"I did" I replied, "but why are you are taking the tanks of Juliet?, that is full"!
And then it sunk in...
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Late '80s out on Feldon Moor, North Yorkshire just a stones throw from the RAF Regt Depot. It was a very cold rainy November night, just perfect to be on Feldon (...not!)! We had returned from a lengthy night nav ex, cold and wet looking forward to getting a brew on. As we entered the harbour area we found some fellow studes had already made it back and were busy trying to warm up. One stude attracted our attention as he has hunched over his Hexi stove desperately trying to light a small white block, with damp matches, in the pouring rain. Gradually we gathered round, offering advice on how best to light said block and trying to provide some cover. To one side was a RAF Regt Cpl intructor who watched with some interest for about 10 minutes before stepping forward, reached down and picked up the white block.....which he promptly put in his mouth and chewed! It rapidly became apparent that our unfortunate 'brew meister' had been trying to light Kendal Mint Cake for some 20 minutes.....
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As one who once fished out a piece of chocolate from his DPM's on a wet and windy night - to then find he was trying to chomp a chunk of hexy, I can assure you the latter process is no less humiliating.
After a towing 'incident', a ground power unit (houchin) appeared outside the line, battered and bruised and awash with tufts of grass and mud.
F731 (serviceability form) stated: "Turns over but will not start!
F731 (serviceability form) stated: "Turns over but will not start!
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The first task we did when on detachment to Sylt was remove the underwing tanks from our NF11's. The procedure was for four guys to hold the tank and on command, the guy in the cockpit activated the appropriate switch.
In a fore runner of Granddad and the chandelier as we all held the starboard tank the port one fell to the ground!
In a fore runner of Granddad and the chandelier as we all held the starboard tank the port one fell to the ground!
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Here is the link andyjor forgot:
USAF bad air drops:
YouTube - Bad Air Drops
music: Creedence Clearwater Revival - Bad Moon Rising
USAF bad air drops:
YouTube - Bad Air Drops
music: Creedence Clearwater Revival - Bad Moon Rising
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While at Lossie in the 80's an associate of mine on the nearby Nimrod line up the road recited an exploit of his :- While racing two Houchin's up the taxi-way on a weekend, one of them became detached from its rover 
jacknifed 
and flipped over several times!
The poor power set was righted and left outside GEF with a 731 one on it reading....... "turns over - won't start!"
I still larff over 20 years on!
P.S. I think WO GEF is still in orbit now
jacknifed and flipped over several times!The poor power set was righted and left outside GEF with a 731 one on it reading....... "turns over - won't start!"
I still larff over 20 years on!
P.S. I think WO GEF is still in orbit now
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A secret Wiltshire base many moons ago and an SAC borrows the gliding clubs landrover at night on guard and rolls it, part of his punishment was to use our Rover on the weekend and work all weekend towing their gliders about...... never having done this before he promptly hooks the first glider up to recover it back to the winch at the other end of the airfield and sets off....... hearing a lot of commotion he looks back to see the said unmanned glider flying along behind him above roof height attached to the back of his Rover
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1971, and the Commonwealth Prime Minister's Conference is being held in Singapore. Myself and Charlie C are downtown from Tengah for the evening, in the Orchard Road "Pig's Bar" (the Hilton).
We chat to an English civilian at the bar, who turns out to be a diplomat from the High Commission, and he is looking for some UK expats to attend a reception at the Presidential Istana. Sounds good--drinks, food, girls etc.
On the day we roll up with invitations, dapper in our tropical lounge suits, and have a high old time, circulating and getting to chat to Ted Heath, Lee Kuan Yew et al. All as advertised--drinks, food, girls.
Gravitate eventually next to a group which has AOC FEAF, his ADC, the Tengah staish.....and our CO. Grinning winningly, we start having a good conversation with the AOC, who is in official-reception-chat mode. Charlie and I, who are both ex-minor-public-school, can at least "talk proper" and have half decent social skills.
I remember answering the AOC (truthfully) that we were "aviation engineers" when he asked us what we were doing in Singapore, when our CO starts to twig and thankfully gets a twinkle in his eye and starts to smile. Still grinning winningly, we sidle gracefully away.
At the end, the AOC spots us and invites us to guest at the Changi OM "as it's near to where you are at Payar Lebar". Our CO, by now highly amused, gently suggests the Tanglin Club as an alternate, so off we go for an hilarious couple of hours getting pi**ed.
The next working day, the CO calls us in. Still greatly amused, he congratulates us for not embarrassing the AOC or the staish, and "gently suggests" that we keep absolutely schtum about the evening.
I wonder if today's crop of hoccifers would have the good heartedness to act as he did!
We chat to an English civilian at the bar, who turns out to be a diplomat from the High Commission, and he is looking for some UK expats to attend a reception at the Presidential Istana. Sounds good--drinks, food, girls etc.
On the day we roll up with invitations, dapper in our tropical lounge suits, and have a high old time, circulating and getting to chat to Ted Heath, Lee Kuan Yew et al. All as advertised--drinks, food, girls.
Gravitate eventually next to a group which has AOC FEAF, his ADC, the Tengah staish.....and our CO. Grinning winningly, we start having a good conversation with the AOC, who is in official-reception-chat mode. Charlie and I, who are both ex-minor-public-school, can at least "talk proper" and have half decent social skills.
I remember answering the AOC (truthfully) that we were "aviation engineers" when he asked us what we were doing in Singapore, when our CO starts to twig and thankfully gets a twinkle in his eye and starts to smile. Still grinning winningly, we sidle gracefully away.
At the end, the AOC spots us and invites us to guest at the Changi OM "as it's near to where you are at Payar Lebar". Our CO, by now highly amused, gently suggests the Tanglin Club as an alternate, so off we go for an hilarious couple of hours getting pi**ed.
The next working day, the CO calls us in. Still greatly amused, he congratulates us for not embarrassing the AOC or the staish, and "gently suggests" that we keep absolutely schtum about the evening.
I wonder if today's crop of hoccifers would have the good heartedness to act as he did!
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Helping out the local AFCO with running some stands in the middle of an "undisclosed" city as part of a recruitment event. Theres the front of a Tornado done up with a cockpit (A few LEDs and a TV screen showing some low-level flying), and a few UAS studes to garnish it with flying suits and aviator-ish talk - our instructions were "leanr how fast it goes, how high it flies, and how much it drops - that should be enough". Basically, show the kids around, talk to the parents and flirt with the totty. Brilliant crack and a good weekend.
RAF Regt are also there with a couple of stands, and of course, hate the fact that a bunch of students in grow-bags are getting the attention off the skirt which is out enjoying the mid-summer sun. Queue the hatred mill running at full capacity.
Day rolls on, WannabeCrewman and a couple of mates (One of whom I shall name "Dave") are chatting to a Flt Lt on the AFCO, when an old, and slightly batsh*t crazy woman, smelling strongly of cat p*ss and twigglets, walks over to us. "How old do you have to be to join up? I really fancy joining!"
Flt Lt detects the potential for very good banter, and directs one of our lads to take her over to the RAF Regt lads so she can have a crack at the SAT range and a look at some of their nice shiney new gats.
He walks her over then comes back crying with laughter.
10 minutes pass, and angry RAF Regt Cpl (with major short-bloke syndrome) steps out of the stand, as the old dear toddles off, looking like thunder. He points out my mate from across the square and tells him to come over. Dialogue continues as follows:
Regt Cpl: Are you taking the f**king piss!?!? Do you think that was f**king funny?!
Dave: Well, yeah, we all did to be honest Cpl.
Regt Cpl: Stand to attention when you talk to me! UAS c**ts!
Mate raises an eyebrow, slowly gets into the most slobbish attention you ever did see. We (UAS lot) all had tonnes of respect for serving bods, regardless of rank, but not when they were acting like complete kn*bs.
Regt Cpl: Are all you UAS lot complete c**ts? Or is it just you?
Dave: No Cpl, we just thought it'd be a good bit of banter, as did the rest of the AFCO guys - if your lot cant take a joke then thats fair enough.
At this point the Regt Cpl is hitting critical mass and about to give my mate a thorough interview without coffee - in the middle of the square of this busy, mid-saturday-afternoon city shopping centre. Until the AFCO Flt Lt strides up.
Flt Lt: Cpl, whats the issue?
Regt Cpl: That old woman that this tw*t bought over, that wasnt called for sir, these UAS lads are taking the p*ss.
Flt Lt: Actually Cpl, I told him to bring her over, thats what we're here for, to put on a good show for the public and all that.
Regt Cpls face drops. He looked like England had just lost a Semi-final on penalties
Regt Cpl: Oh, ur, right sir.
Flt Lt: And I dont think giving this lad a dressing down for all the public to see is terribly professional, do you?
Regt Cpl: No sir.
Flt Lt: Good. Now... F**K OFF.
Regt Cpl: Yes sir. (Promptly scuttles off)
Ends up that "Dave" isnt allowed to go anywhere on his own for the risk of him being jumped by several pissed off Regt lads, who spend the rest of the afternoon directing visual venom at us.
Quality weekend.
RAF Regt are also there with a couple of stands, and of course, hate the fact that a bunch of students in grow-bags are getting the attention off the skirt which is out enjoying the mid-summer sun. Queue the hatred mill running at full capacity.
Day rolls on, WannabeCrewman and a couple of mates (One of whom I shall name "Dave") are chatting to a Flt Lt on the AFCO, when an old, and slightly batsh*t crazy woman, smelling strongly of cat p*ss and twigglets, walks over to us. "How old do you have to be to join up? I really fancy joining!"
Flt Lt detects the potential for very good banter, and directs one of our lads to take her over to the RAF Regt lads so she can have a crack at the SAT range and a look at some of their nice shiney new gats.
He walks her over then comes back crying with laughter.
10 minutes pass, and angry RAF Regt Cpl (with major short-bloke syndrome) steps out of the stand, as the old dear toddles off, looking like thunder. He points out my mate from across the square and tells him to come over. Dialogue continues as follows:
Regt Cpl: Are you taking the f**king piss!?!? Do you think that was f**king funny?!
Dave: Well, yeah, we all did to be honest Cpl.
Regt Cpl: Stand to attention when you talk to me! UAS c**ts!
Mate raises an eyebrow, slowly gets into the most slobbish attention you ever did see. We (UAS lot) all had tonnes of respect for serving bods, regardless of rank, but not when they were acting like complete kn*bs.
Regt Cpl: Are all you UAS lot complete c**ts? Or is it just you?
Dave: No Cpl, we just thought it'd be a good bit of banter, as did the rest of the AFCO guys - if your lot cant take a joke then thats fair enough.
At this point the Regt Cpl is hitting critical mass and about to give my mate a thorough interview without coffee - in the middle of the square of this busy, mid-saturday-afternoon city shopping centre. Until the AFCO Flt Lt strides up.
Flt Lt: Cpl, whats the issue?
Regt Cpl: That old woman that this tw*t bought over, that wasnt called for sir, these UAS lads are taking the p*ss.
Flt Lt: Actually Cpl, I told him to bring her over, thats what we're here for, to put on a good show for the public and all that.
Regt Cpls face drops. He looked like England had just lost a Semi-final on penalties
Regt Cpl: Oh, ur, right sir.
Flt Lt: And I dont think giving this lad a dressing down for all the public to see is terribly professional, do you?
Regt Cpl: No sir.
Flt Lt: Good. Now... F**K OFF.
Regt Cpl: Yes sir. (Promptly scuttles off)
Ends up that "Dave" isnt allowed to go anywhere on his own for the risk of him being jumped by several pissed off Regt lads, who spend the rest of the afternoon directing visual venom at us.
Quality weekend.
Join Date: Feb 2008
Location: Toulouse area, France
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Cannon ...
Back in the Roaring Fifties, Celle and Fassberg had a good cannon-"exchange" going, until Fassberg's Stn Cdr threw a wobbly when Celle also 'alf-inched his Coronation Coach (which was duly returned rather quickly).
Happy, happy days, with the great Don Kingaby (DSO, DFC, triple DFM) as Wingco Flying ...
Happy, happy days, with the great Don Kingaby (DSO, DFC, triple DFM) as Wingco Flying ...