The Anglian Connection

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"Don't panic" interrupted Tiger, "I radioed for a refuelling plane to meet us here, been running on vapour for the last 45 minutes!�?/SPAN>

“Two fings I fink I should point out tho�?

“Firstly I’ve never refuelled the right way up, let alone upside down before.

Secondly Kav said I gotta have this thing back on the ATC Forecourt before the Friday evening meeting�?/SPAN>

“Oh! He mentioned something else about this plane too, didn’t quite catch it all coz of the noise, but I heard something about AIRWORTHY while kav was shaking his head!

Tiger became very quiet as he linked with the refuelling plane and shouted in the radio (Actually a walky talky supplied by the sponsors of this section of the story, A. Daley Electricks UnLtd) “FILL ‘ER UP�?/SPAN>

Just as the refuelling plane started to move away a loud thud was heard, like something landing on the top (Underside) of the Plane. “Anyone any good at wing walking,�?said Tiger. “Only they said they had a spare copy of the aircraft manual I could borrow�?/SPAN>

Everyone stopped talking and gasped. And then…�?

To be wassanamed�?.

SPECIAL ANNOUCEMENT.

In view of the fact that Jimbob is covered in underwear (yet again!) his further participation in this story will be delayed until sufficient time has elapsed to allow his heart rate to return to something like it's correct level. This may well occur when he comes out of his fantasy...

Having regained his senses, or what pass for senses in this thrill a minute fantasy, Jimbob gathers the underwear together and is immediately assailed by an aroma reminiscent of an unemptied Port-a-loo at the end of a four day Rock Festival. Deciding to reliquish his sense of smell and sense of reality our hero (Well he's my hero anyway, so there!) resists the urge to wash, iron, fold and place the underwear neatly in the Harrier's airing cupboard and rushes to the front room where he retrieves his sewing kit stored nicely in an old Danish All Butter Cookie tin (and very nice they were too thanks). He then proceeds to extract all the elastic from the underwear and using a neat running stitch learned at his mummy's knees, when she was sewing up his mouth to stop him crying and eating, fashions a parachute (ta da). Resisting all attempts to stop him Jimbob steps out of the Harrier onto the garden path and strolls to the rear of the stricken aircraft. He admires the flora and fauna in the garden and stops briefly at the garden shed where he extracts a deck chair, sits and enjoys what could be his last rollie. (Before you lot complain about airing cupboards, front rooms, garden paths, sheds etc in a Harrier, this is my part of the fantasy and I've read enough Spike Milligan to know what is and isn't possible, so there! Ya boo sucks to you!) Throwing away his dog end Jimbob proceeds to tie the improvised parachute to the rear of the Harrier carefully avoided burns on his posterior from the jet exhaust. "OK," he shouts "you can run out of fuel now, I'm leaving this story for a while to think about underwear again"

Jimbob wakes and wonders wot e's bin doin since 7th May. Has he bin in a coma , a comma. or sum other puntuation mark? He gets down his dictionary but its no help he's none the wiser, so he goes back to sleep agin.

Bet yer didn't even know there woz a page free ._Page 3

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