Continuing the little tour, guess this is part 3....

Find part 2 HERE

I returned the Optica to the Portsmouth police after 15 minutes..."Sorry, it's an interesting effort but lacks polygons and the colour....well all I can say is....do you have anything else I can borrow?"

"Well, over there is a nice little machine, it's called a Wilga...and it's stuffed with Polish supermodels who need a lift up to Oxford for a photoshoot for Sirens magazine (that's the police journal). Their pilot went a bit heavy on the vodka last night and then he had a late night Micks."

"A Mick's? From the kebab n'burger van on Portsdown Hill? Don't tell me, he hasn't shown up?!"

I needed no further encouragement, setting off for the Wilga at a run, wondering why the officer had kept looking at my beard. Soon we were airborne, and touring Pompey in style...






They were smoking hot, no suprises there. What self-respecting freeware aircraft doesn't come equipped with at least one saucy chick these days... ?

But a stuck up bunch: "Vot iz it wiv you guys and tall thin objects?" one asked impatiently as I circled the Spinnaker for the last time...






Hmm, perhaps this wasn't going to be as much fun as I'd thought...

Portsea Island, Hayling, Gosport, Porchester Castle, Portsmouth Harbour...all slowly diminished behind me as I heard (in Polish, I understand a bit) "Eww, he smells so, doesn't he Lenka?"

"Fuuj, yes, like sick". Reaching for my beard I discovered several lumps there from the 'accident' over Fawley...why couldn't someone have told me?!!






There was only one thing to do...

"My apologies ladies, we are about to hit some turbulence..."

"Vot iz it, ze turbu...AaaAAAAAHHHH!!!"






"Wooaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"






"Erk-erk-erk-ooooaaaahhhhaaaaaaahhhahahahahah!!!






The results of these 'tactical manoevers' were too horrible to reveal to your delicate ears... suffice to say, I got the results I wanted...We set down at Kidlington airfield (I think) but they refused to come out of the plane, demanding a van to come up to the aircraft...I left to 'arrange it' with my kitbag and availed myself of their showering facilities...






On learning that they had nothing I could borrow, but that at the local RAF base they might, I returned promptly to the plane, redolent of "ocean waves" shower gel, and gingerly eased myself inside. "Sorry ladies, the van broke down. But help is on the way, at the next airfield, never fear!"

Just a short hop and we were touching down at Brize Norton.

Again they refused  to leave, and so I found someone in charge who had a job for me, a plane to deliver up north...






As we walked towards my new vehicle, I realised I couldn't just leave my female companions in their sticky plight... luckily, we were just passing the mess (dining facilities on the base, not my plane)... It was full of tanker personnel, mechanics, even the odd fighter pilot. "Gentlemen, don't want to disturb your elevenses but there's a light aircraft on the apron out there chock full of Polish supermodels in need of help."

Last thing I saw as I climbed into the cockpit of my new ride was the Wilga enveloped in a sea of uniformed guys...


Thanks for taking a look

Regards

Krigl

That is great!! 
Very funny!
Cheers 

Gentlemen...thanks!