Code Brown
In one of the best books ever written about wartime Bomber Command, Jack Currie's Lancaster Target, he describes an incident involving one of his gunners being taken short and asking to leave the turret in order to resolve the problem....
A little devil crept into Currie's head and he told the gunner that they were still in a hostile area, so he had to remain in the turret for the time being.
A while later, he relents and advises the gunner that it is now safe to leave the turret in order to do the necessary.
"No worries, Skipper - it's frozen", came the reply....
In more recent times, a certain Victor pilot (who may or may not have been known in his later VC10K days as 'Logger' McD***s) had occasion to use the Victor's V-bomber ration box for an unintended purpose on, one gathers, more than one occasion...
Which can't have been much fun for the rear crew.
A little devil crept into Currie's head and he told the gunner that they were still in a hostile area, so he had to remain in the turret for the time being.
A while later, he relents and advises the gunner that it is now safe to leave the turret in order to do the necessary.
"No worries, Skipper - it's frozen", came the reply....
In more recent times, a certain Victor pilot (who may or may not have been known in his later VC10K days as 'Logger' McD***s) had occasion to use the Victor's V-bomber ration box for an unintended purpose on, one gathers, more than one occasion...
Which can't have been much fun for the rear crew.
Join Date: Sep 2006
Location: Somewhere flat
Age: 68
Posts: 5,559
Likes: 0
Received 45 Likes
on
30 Posts
There are many stories about the Shackleton elsan, including the females who flew as passengers and who had to divest most clothing to use the said item (and how many forgot to check that the tail lookout was empty first). However perhaps the most infamous was an American airman who we took flying during a deployment to Keflavic.
"Where's the Pee tube?" he asked.
"Use the Elsan", was the shouted reply.
A few minutes later, an embarrassed looking American approached the mission crew.
"I think I made a mistake sir".
He had wandered into the galley and used the oxygen pipe next to the elsan as a pee tube. The look on the faces of the flight deck crew as they turned round to look in disbelief as they were told in glee "...one of the Yanks has just p*ssed into the oxygen system".
The discussion then turned to how far into the system this fluid would migrate and whether it would get past the economiser, with the eng's advice of "don't fly above 8,000ft skipper". Fortunately an economiser change sorted everything out!
"Where's the Pee tube?" he asked.
"Use the Elsan", was the shouted reply.
A few minutes later, an embarrassed looking American approached the mission crew.
"I think I made a mistake sir".
He had wandered into the galley and used the oxygen pipe next to the elsan as a pee tube. The look on the faces of the flight deck crew as they turned round to look in disbelief as they were told in glee "...one of the Yanks has just p*ssed into the oxygen system".
The discussion then turned to how far into the system this fluid would migrate and whether it would get past the economiser, with the eng's advice of "don't fly above 8,000ft skipper". Fortunately an economiser change sorted everything out!
Not quite as bad a mistake as this, the citation for the award of the MHDOIF to a F/Sgt in TeeEmm:
THE MOST HIGHLY DEROGATORY ORDER OF THE IRREMOVABLE FINGER (Patron : Pilot Officer Prune) has this month been awarded to F/Sgt **** for Failing to put his Hand Up when Wanting to Leave the Aircraft.
F/Sgt **** was a passenger in the rear of an Oxford which was on a daylight exercise. On completion of a period of instrument flying, at about 3000 feet, the pilot and instructor looked round and found that they no longer had a passenger.
It turned out later that F/Sgt ****, wishing to relieve himself, had opened the door of the aircraft, but instead of carrying on with the exercise had fallen out. He eventually returned to camp by bus with his open parachute tucked underneath his arm.
F/Sgt **** was a passenger in the rear of an Oxford which was on a daylight exercise. On completion of a period of instrument flying, at about 3000 feet, the pilot and instructor looked round and found that they no longer had a passenger.
It turned out later that F/Sgt ****, wishing to relieve himself, had opened the door of the aircraft, but instead of carrying on with the exercise had fallen out. He eventually returned to camp by bus with his open parachute tucked underneath his arm.
Then there was the tale of the Canberra T17 pilot who, on a 1,000ft transit over the sea, was caught short. He put his pins in, unstrapped, and stood in the doorway to remove his flying suit, while flying the aircraft with his left hand. The AEO, who sat directly behind where he was standing, then held a helmet bag open while the pilot squatted….
Join Date: Jul 2010
Location: cardboard box in't middle of t'road
Posts: 745
Likes: 0
Received 1 Like
on
1 Post
Taste prevents me giving the full details of the apocryphal story of the AEOp undergoing 'brown system failure' who had to make use of the galley sink on hearing the loo was already occupied.....apparently to the great surprise of the pax sat at the galley table at the time.
Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: on track, on speed, on time
Posts: 74
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
I had the misfortune to be in the same formation on a Tonka transit to the sandpit when one of the WSOs went through a protracted series of Code Brown stages until he finally delivered the package!
I will never forget the look on the ground crew/medics faces when they got to the top of the steps after the canopy was flipped.
A well known curry house near the secret base in Norfolk had a role to play in this episode.
Any other formation members remember?
What was his nickname?
//trk
I will never forget the look on the ground crew/medics faces when they got to the top of the steps after the canopy was flipped.
A well known curry house near the secret base in Norfolk had a role to play in this episode.
Any other formation members remember?
What was his nickname?
//trk
This is a marvellous thread, I have sat here laughing out loud. I cannot contribute a great deal unfortunately.
I think Metpersons must have been uptight, because I never ever heard of any misadventures at work, although crappers were often a L O N G way away. The bases which gave me most anxiety regarding notice/timing were Nicosia [a thunderbox 100 yards away on the bondhu], Acklington and Finningley [before we moved into the Air Electronics building].
Dry Farting was a different matter of course ........ in airfield Met Offices the convention was to fart only in the teleprinter/ comms room rather than the workplace. In headquarters units the rule was that one could gruff in one's own office or the corridors, but not in anyone else's office.
JHQ was interesting in that one had to decide if one had time to be an officer. The airmen's bog was handy but very nasty, the nearest officers' one was quite a hike.
I think Metpersons must have been uptight, because I never ever heard of any misadventures at work, although crappers were often a L O N G way away. The bases which gave me most anxiety regarding notice/timing were Nicosia [a thunderbox 100 yards away on the bondhu], Acklington and Finningley [before we moved into the Air Electronics building].
Dry Farting was a different matter of course ........ in airfield Met Offices the convention was to fart only in the teleprinter/ comms room rather than the workplace. In headquarters units the rule was that one could gruff in one's own office or the corridors, but not in anyone else's office.
JHQ was interesting in that one had to decide if one had time to be an officer. The airmen's bog was handy but very nasty, the nearest officers' one was quite a hike.
Join Date: Apr 2008
Location: Well, Lincolnshire
Age: 69
Posts: 1,101
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
OK, the following is not an airborne Code Brown (and I previously posted it in 2008) but..........
Late '70's at an 'aerodrome somewhere in England'.
The Boss (and I mean THE BOSS) was coming to make sure that we were looking after the aeroplanes and other bits and bobs she had loaned us.
The Staish thought it was time for his Other Buggers Efforts and so decided to put on a show. A Royal Guard of Honour came top in his list of bullsh*t.
Joe the SWO trawls the unit for blokes who were 6 feet tall (not 5'11", not 6'1", he wants an Other Buggers Efforts too) to make up the main cast of this performance.
Through an accident of birth, my oppo and myself satisfied Joe's requirements (and being a pair of prats by not hiding or limping ) we found ourselves on a shortlist of 2 to join Joe's Chorus Line.
Now, my oppo was (and still is) a bit of an imbiber of most things alcoholic (he draws the line at Toilet Duck), he also appreciates being allowed to gently enter the world of sobriety in the mornings, no sudden movements etc etc.
To his horror (and to the rest of us) Joe and the Staish decided upon practice, practice, practice weeks before the main event. To make matters worse, the practices were to take place at first sparrow's fart, so's not to deny us the pleasure of a full day at work afterwards.
Oppo did not take kindly to this. His personal time to recover from the reveries of the previous night were severely curtailed. His efforts at the rehearsals for Joe SWO's Royal Variety Performance were not good. His efforts at 'Present Arms' would have made Corporal (Dad's Army) Jones look like a Coldstream Guardsman.
Joe thought he was taking the pi$$, not realising that oppo was recovering from the pi$$.
Slowly it began to dawn on oppo, that perhaps to avoid more severe listening-to's and other threats from Joe and after all, it was for THE BOSS. (Oppo was a great fan of THE BOSS). that he should curtail his nightly intake and perhaps take up cocoa for the duration instead.
The transformation was dramatic!! A figure of immaculate military bearing arose from the ashes, the Staish smiled, Joe SWO smiled even Joe's dog smiled. Sod the Other Buggers Efforts they thought, this means Knighthoods all round. Arise Sir Staish, Arise Sir Joe SWO. I swear you could see it in their eyes.
Come the final Full Dress Rehearsal. Brigade of Guards, QCS, b@llocks to the lot of you, nobody could beat us, we were good.
So good in fact that the Staish invited the members of the Royal Guard of Honour to have a small alcoholic refreshment (at his expense) to thank us for our efforts (oh, and also to put the fear of God up us just in case it went wrong).
After drinkies and associated small talk 'it's Ma'am as in ham, not Ma'am as in farm' etc served up by Mrs (soon to be Lady) Staish. We were sent on our way to prepare for the Main Event the following morning.
Oppo, now rather pleased with himself, full of military bearing (and two halves of Staish's beer) decides that a pleasant pre-Royal evening in the company of the NAAFI'S finest barmaids is perfectly in order. Thankfully, I had a prior engagement with the future Mrs Taxydual so had to decline his kind offer of an evening of fine wines and glistening conversation.
I imagine, gentle reader, you can guess the rest.
Come the morn, you have never seen anything like it. 6' of military bearing converted into a potato sack. There were no two pounds of him hanging straight. His breath would have killed small children. His eyes had to be seen to be believed. 'There's life, Jim, but not as we know it'.
It went steadily downhill from there on in.
The March-on he stumbled. The Royal Salute he fumbled.
Then the crowning glory. During the Inspection came a barely audible bubbling noise followed an odour of such grossness that no-one could miss it for what it was. Oppo had sh*t himself. The looks of horror on the faces of the great and the good was spectacular. As to THE BOSS, she didn't turn a hair and carried on if nothing had happened. She knew though, oh she knew. I saw, for a fleeting second the look in her face as she passed me. "Tommo's sh*t himself again".
Where are you Tommo? If the telling of this doesn't force you out of hiding, nothing will.
Late '70's at an 'aerodrome somewhere in England'.
The Boss (and I mean THE BOSS) was coming to make sure that we were looking after the aeroplanes and other bits and bobs she had loaned us.
The Staish thought it was time for his Other Buggers Efforts and so decided to put on a show. A Royal Guard of Honour came top in his list of bullsh*t.
Joe the SWO trawls the unit for blokes who were 6 feet tall (not 5'11", not 6'1", he wants an Other Buggers Efforts too) to make up the main cast of this performance.
Through an accident of birth, my oppo and myself satisfied Joe's requirements (and being a pair of prats by not hiding or limping ) we found ourselves on a shortlist of 2 to join Joe's Chorus Line.
Now, my oppo was (and still is) a bit of an imbiber of most things alcoholic (he draws the line at Toilet Duck), he also appreciates being allowed to gently enter the world of sobriety in the mornings, no sudden movements etc etc.
To his horror (and to the rest of us) Joe and the Staish decided upon practice, practice, practice weeks before the main event. To make matters worse, the practices were to take place at first sparrow's fart, so's not to deny us the pleasure of a full day at work afterwards.
Oppo did not take kindly to this. His personal time to recover from the reveries of the previous night were severely curtailed. His efforts at the rehearsals for Joe SWO's Royal Variety Performance were not good. His efforts at 'Present Arms' would have made Corporal (Dad's Army) Jones look like a Coldstream Guardsman.
Joe thought he was taking the pi$$, not realising that oppo was recovering from the pi$$.
Slowly it began to dawn on oppo, that perhaps to avoid more severe listening-to's and other threats from Joe and after all, it was for THE BOSS. (Oppo was a great fan of THE BOSS). that he should curtail his nightly intake and perhaps take up cocoa for the duration instead.
The transformation was dramatic!! A figure of immaculate military bearing arose from the ashes, the Staish smiled, Joe SWO smiled even Joe's dog smiled. Sod the Other Buggers Efforts they thought, this means Knighthoods all round. Arise Sir Staish, Arise Sir Joe SWO. I swear you could see it in their eyes.
Come the final Full Dress Rehearsal. Brigade of Guards, QCS, b@llocks to the lot of you, nobody could beat us, we were good.
So good in fact that the Staish invited the members of the Royal Guard of Honour to have a small alcoholic refreshment (at his expense) to thank us for our efforts (oh, and also to put the fear of God up us just in case it went wrong).
After drinkies and associated small talk 'it's Ma'am as in ham, not Ma'am as in farm' etc served up by Mrs (soon to be Lady) Staish. We were sent on our way to prepare for the Main Event the following morning.
Oppo, now rather pleased with himself, full of military bearing (and two halves of Staish's beer) decides that a pleasant pre-Royal evening in the company of the NAAFI'S finest barmaids is perfectly in order. Thankfully, I had a prior engagement with the future Mrs Taxydual so had to decline his kind offer of an evening of fine wines and glistening conversation.
I imagine, gentle reader, you can guess the rest.
Come the morn, you have never seen anything like it. 6' of military bearing converted into a potato sack. There were no two pounds of him hanging straight. His breath would have killed small children. His eyes had to be seen to be believed. 'There's life, Jim, but not as we know it'.
It went steadily downhill from there on in.
The March-on he stumbled. The Royal Salute he fumbled.
Then the crowning glory. During the Inspection came a barely audible bubbling noise followed an odour of such grossness that no-one could miss it for what it was. Oppo had sh*t himself. The looks of horror on the faces of the great and the good was spectacular. As to THE BOSS, she didn't turn a hair and carried on if nothing had happened. She knew though, oh she knew. I saw, for a fleeting second the look in her face as she passed me. "Tommo's sh*t himself again".
Where are you Tommo? If the telling of this doesn't force you out of hiding, nothing will.
Hi Beags.
Your Oxford story could well be based on fact. One well known fault of the "Ox box's" door was that pulling the wires to the "Open" pins was right next to the wires to the "Jettison" pins. Many sorties ended during crew exit with the door falling off onto the ground. Thus falling out of the aeroplane after pulling the wrong selection would seem to be a distinct possibility.
Not the first - or the last aeroplane , to have an unfortunate close location of devices that were easily confused, leading to embarrassing mis-selections.......
Your Oxford story could well be based on fact. One well known fault of the "Ox box's" door was that pulling the wires to the "Open" pins was right next to the wires to the "Jettison" pins. Many sorties ended during crew exit with the door falling off onto the ground. Thus falling out of the aeroplane after pulling the wrong selection would seem to be a distinct possibility.
Not the first - or the last aeroplane , to have an unfortunate close location of devices that were easily confused, leading to embarrassing mis-selections.......
Join Date: Apr 2003
Location: SWAPS Inner
Posts: 567
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Quote:
Taste prevents me giving the full details of the apocryphal story of the AEOp undergoing 'brown system failure' who had to make use of the galley sink on hearing the loo was already occupied.....apparently to the great surprise of the pax sat at the galley table at the time.
Oh go on Sandy, spill the beans, I'm sure N*** S****s won't mind!
Taste prevents me giving the full details of the apocryphal story of the AEOp undergoing 'brown system failure' who had to make use of the galley sink on hearing the loo was already occupied.....apparently to the great surprise of the pax sat at the galley table at the time.
Oh go on Sandy, spill the beans, I'm sure N*** S****s won't mind!
Or the apocryphal tale of the motorbike captain on his way to the Falklands and the flying suit not rolled down quite enough...... Allegedly.
Followed by (thread creep alert) "keep an eye on my bag Sergeant"...."I can still see it sir on the apron" as OC 201 is changing gear at FL200.....
Join Date: Oct 2003
Location: Somewhere
Posts: 502
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Long ago and far away, a Twin Pin cruised over the jungle; one of the crew was taken very short, but managed to dump it all in a honk bag. He then wondered how to dispose of said bag and without forethought pushed it through the DV window; unfortunately, approx 90 knots of airflow met said bag and promptly shoved it back into the cockpit, shredding the bag and spraying its contents everywhere......
Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: Fife
Age: 87
Posts: 519
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
I remember Oelof Bergh reminiscing about his experiences in Korea, where he was flying Meteors “on detachment” to the RAAF; one of these concerned getting caught short while airborne.
Being fairly agile at that stage of his career Oelof managed to unstrap, lower his flying suit and shreddies, spread his map over the seat pan (no double entendre intended) and relieve himself.It turned out not to be the most comfortable experience, though.
Since he would not be hands on the controls for a while, he had trimmed the Meatbox into a level gentle turn, so that the resulting orbit would mean he had finished his c***p more or less where he had started. Sadly, he said, he hadn’t noticed part of the orbit took him over the communist anti-aircraft defences, so some parts of his Code Brown were more nervous than others.
Being fairly agile at that stage of his career Oelof managed to unstrap, lower his flying suit and shreddies, spread his map over the seat pan (no double entendre intended) and relieve himself.It turned out not to be the most comfortable experience, though.
Since he would not be hands on the controls for a while, he had trimmed the Meatbox into a level gentle turn, so that the resulting orbit would mean he had finished his c***p more or less where he had started. Sadly, he said, he hadn’t noticed part of the orbit took him over the communist anti-aircraft defences, so some parts of his Code Brown were more nervous than others.
One of the first lady navs on Dominie had to use the 'thunder box' whilst going through turbulence. The result? Blue parts being washed down with cartons of Orange Juice by the NCA instructor. Would have been alright if it was one of the stunners - although I'm sure she was for some of the NCA I knew!
---------
F14 exchange USN RIO (read nav) on the F3 transitting back from Cyprus. The food of the good 'ole US of A had not prepped his lower gut for the delights of the Shalimar Curry House in AKR. The result? A full strip down in the back of the jet and then a very well aimed dump into his white cardboard packed lunch box! Someone had some pictures having flown inverted over the top with a camera clicking away at the poor chap.
---------
First night madness and another Nav had a few too many Brandy Sours in the Mess at AKR. He comes storming out of his room in the morning threatening to kill everyone for smearing crap all over his walls, until someone pointed that he should look at the state of his own hands. Thence on known as Bobby Sands for the rest of the APC!
---------
Ex DYNAMIC IMPACT (I think) from Moron AFB. The Sqn has drunk all the river bars in Seville dry of Baileys - served in what seem like pint pots. The next day everyone is passing Baileys through their No 2s. Someway out over the Atlantic off the coast of Portugal the formation leader announces that his Nav "needs to go home". Portugese and Spanish ATC are very accomodating and clear us straight line to Moron AFB for an 'in flight medical issue'. As we break into the circuit at Moron the Nav calls "It's too late!!". Luckily he was wearing a goon suit, so a hose was just popped into the neck seal for a complete wash out!
---------
The worst I ever had was a yellow alert after the transit from UK to AKR. We were met at the steps of the F3 by the advance party and bussed straight to the last 20 minutes of Happy Hour. I was bursting. So I made straight for the Gents throwing off G-pants and pulling my flying suit around my ankles thinking that a No 2 may also be in order. As I sat down, my fella went between the bowl and the seat - I let rip and watch a beautiful golden arc going into my flying suit around my ankles. I do not have the sphyncter power to shut of the 270 Bar of urine coming out of my body. I then have to wash my flying suit in the sink and then spend the next 20 minutes standing there in my boots, T shirt and undies drying it under the hand dryer and explaining what has happened! And I missed Happy Hour and ended up with one of the crap rooms in Animal House...
LJ
---------
F14 exchange USN RIO (read nav) on the F3 transitting back from Cyprus. The food of the good 'ole US of A had not prepped his lower gut for the delights of the Shalimar Curry House in AKR. The result? A full strip down in the back of the jet and then a very well aimed dump into his white cardboard packed lunch box! Someone had some pictures having flown inverted over the top with a camera clicking away at the poor chap.
---------
First night madness and another Nav had a few too many Brandy Sours in the Mess at AKR. He comes storming out of his room in the morning threatening to kill everyone for smearing crap all over his walls, until someone pointed that he should look at the state of his own hands. Thence on known as Bobby Sands for the rest of the APC!
---------
Ex DYNAMIC IMPACT (I think) from Moron AFB. The Sqn has drunk all the river bars in Seville dry of Baileys - served in what seem like pint pots. The next day everyone is passing Baileys through their No 2s. Someway out over the Atlantic off the coast of Portugal the formation leader announces that his Nav "needs to go home". Portugese and Spanish ATC are very accomodating and clear us straight line to Moron AFB for an 'in flight medical issue'. As we break into the circuit at Moron the Nav calls "It's too late!!". Luckily he was wearing a goon suit, so a hose was just popped into the neck seal for a complete wash out!
---------
The worst I ever had was a yellow alert after the transit from UK to AKR. We were met at the steps of the F3 by the advance party and bussed straight to the last 20 minutes of Happy Hour. I was bursting. So I made straight for the Gents throwing off G-pants and pulling my flying suit around my ankles thinking that a No 2 may also be in order. As I sat down, my fella went between the bowl and the seat - I let rip and watch a beautiful golden arc going into my flying suit around my ankles. I do not have the sphyncter power to shut of the 270 Bar of urine coming out of my body. I then have to wash my flying suit in the sink and then spend the next 20 minutes standing there in my boots, T shirt and undies drying it under the hand dryer and explaining what has happened! And I missed Happy Hour and ended up with one of the crap rooms in Animal House...
LJ
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
Wensleydale, you covered the pee-tube, remember the picnic bar in the elsan?
Of course the other happiness was releasing the dry Gary, often 10 hours old, on undoing the immersion suit.
Of course the other happiness was releasing the dry Gary, often 10 hours old, on undoing the immersion suit.
Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Cheshire
Posts: 30
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Concraptions;
n: a case of particular agonising stomach pains experienced before giving birth to an extremely virulent form of excrement. Usually experienced during flight the day after a visit to the 'passage to India' . Particularly debilitating whilst piloting an aircraft.
" bloody hell boys I knew that ruby was a bad idea, my concraptions are 3 mins apart and I'm 2cm dilated...... Emergency div required........"
n: a case of particular agonising stomach pains experienced before giving birth to an extremely virulent form of excrement. Usually experienced during flight the day after a visit to the 'passage to India' . Particularly debilitating whilst piloting an aircraft.
" bloody hell boys I knew that ruby was a bad idea, my concraptions are 3 mins apart and I'm 2cm dilated...... Emergency div required........"
Hi Haraka! I'm not sure if you were on the same ULAS Summer Camp at Thorney Island as I was in 1970?
One fine day I noticed one of our Chipmunks being taxyed (dual) rather rapidly from the RW, then coming to an abrupt halt on the taxiway. The hood flew open and out hopped 'Stumpy' who set off at an urgent pace towards the hangar door. With his little legs, it would have been impossible for him to be bent double, of course, as his bone dome would have hit the tarmac.
Fortunately he made it - just, so he told us after he'd walked back to the crewroom looking much happier. The cause? A local curry house the previous evening!
One fine day I noticed one of our Chipmunks being taxyed (dual) rather rapidly from the RW, then coming to an abrupt halt on the taxiway. The hood flew open and out hopped 'Stumpy' who set off at an urgent pace towards the hangar door. With his little legs, it would have been impossible for him to be bent double, of course, as his bone dome would have hit the tarmac.
Fortunately he made it - just, so he told us after he'd walked back to the crewroom looking much happier. The cause? A local curry house the previous evening!
Join Date: Feb 2006
Location: Hanging off the end of a thread
Posts: 32,883
Received 2,826 Likes
on
1,205 Posts
There was the VC 10 at Brize, tech for a week or so with various spurious snags listed that sat out on a distant apron with the doors all open.....
They had a frozen blue ice problem on one of the aft bogs and the decided remedy was a palouse air start trolley blowing a miniscule amount of hot air into the valve to melt the blockage, a suitable piece of timber was wedged on the said bog seat and up against a firm bit of trim and warming began..... a loud bang was heard as the said timber departed and a fountain erupted in the aft cabin... seats were changed on the quiet, trim was replaced with other sourced items and everything eventually looked as before...... except the smell, that took a skip load of air freshener and a couple of weeks of circulating air to disperse...
They had a frozen blue ice problem on one of the aft bogs and the decided remedy was a palouse air start trolley blowing a miniscule amount of hot air into the valve to melt the blockage, a suitable piece of timber was wedged on the said bog seat and up against a firm bit of trim and warming began..... a loud bang was heard as the said timber departed and a fountain erupted in the aft cabin... seats were changed on the quiet, trim was replaced with other sourced items and everything eventually looked as before...... except the smell, that took a skip load of air freshener and a couple of weeks of circulating air to disperse...
Last edited by NutLoose; 6th Mar 2015 at 12:28.