Whenever an aeroplane full of excited holiday makers flies over my house, I get this horrible feeling that it’s about to explode in mid-air and crash. Then I cross my fingers and pray that the mangled scorched wreckage and its cargo of burning passengers doesn’t smash right through my living room window.
Just finished decorating, see.
Twelve pounds fifty a roll that bloody wallpaper cost me!
...Also, isn't it absolutely staggering how they make aeroplanes fly in the first place. Hundreds of tons of metal, rubber and plastic and somehow they get these huge, wonderful machines, up into the sky and keep them there for hours and hours and hours. Amazing!
It’s even more amazing (not to mention spectacular) when one crashes, putting the kibosh on all the gay cabin staff, the makeup-caked trolley dollies and eight dozen screaming passengers. I bet the pilot doesn’t get a reference after that.
Of course a life jacket under the seat is a waste of bleedin' time! Don’t talk black boxes!
I'll leave you with this tip. When flying anywhere, always sit right at the back of the plane.
Never yet heard of one that "reversed" into a mountain.
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