Re: How do I know Im back in Blighty?
 

very nice!!!

Re: How do I know Im back in Blighty?
 

Yeah, took him only a week ;)

Re: How do I know Im back in Blighty?
 

Might look a bit grim BUT there are some lovely areas - the sun does shine and the people are very friendly.......guess its "home"

Re: How do I know Im back in Blighty?
 

Couln't someone drive to Manchester to pick you up and save a 3 hour rail journey? Boro to Manchester isn't THAT far or do I expect too much? I just know that when relatives and friends have come here to visit I have picked them up at the airport (once at 2.30am) and ferried them about for 2 weeks and dropped them back off (once at 4.30am) at the airport.
Going via Amsterdam is the best way, but expensive. From Amsterdam to Teesside you get on one of those small planes where a man winds up the propeller before take off...is it a Fokker :D

Re: How do I know Im back in Blighty?
 

I get a tiny plane from SF to Eureka!! Its as big as a tube carriage! :eek:
Its a bit far for someone to drive to pick me up really - nearly 3 hours....thanks for the advice anyway

My other option is to fly into Heathrow and get a train oopp north as its a quicker journey than from manchester!

Re: How do I know Im back in Blighty?
 

Hah, only decided to look this morning, took about 10 seconds to find..

Re: How do I know Im back in Blighty?
 

ooer....that sounds an interesting flight!:rofl:

Re: How do I know Im back in Blighty?
 

:eek::eek: There should be a law against taking a dump on a plane. A loo that "flushes" with air rather than water, cannot adequately clean the bowl of the toilet. Passengers should be issued with packs of Imodium along with their newspapers before take-off!! :lol:

Re: How do I know Im back in Blighty?
 

Why do you think it says "may" contain peanuts on those little packs of "peanuts" they give out? :fingerscrossed:

Re: How do I know Im back in Blighty?
 

first time flyer??:D

Re: How do I know Im back in Blighty?
 

The difference between an egg and a really good dump is that whilst you can beat an egg you can't beat a really good dump.
And over the years I have compiled a list of my top five most memorable dumps.

In reverse order -

5. In my underpants in a nightclub in Blackpool after consuming 15 pints of Boddingtons while dancing with a likely conquest.It was more a vicious follow-through than a dump but it was memorable because at the end of the dance I nipped into the Gents,cleaned myself up and left the soiled kecks inside the cistern of a toilet and went back to chatting up the bird.Successfully. How I remember her uttering the immortal line as I later slipped off my strides " Eee, by 'eck,you kinky bastard, you're not wearing any feckers. "

4. In Yoko Ono's bidet. It's a really long story that I won't bore you with but it's true. At the time I was simply extracting revenge for her breaking up The Beatles.

3. British Grand Prix, Brands Hatch. I can't remember which year it was but a long time ago the combination of a long queue to use inadequate toilet facilities and a large full English breakfast several hours earlier meant that the turtle's head was not only poking through but just about to leave the departure lounge in a hurry when I finally achieved blessed evacuation. The sense of urgency,fear and eventually overwhelming relief was so etched on my psyche that for many years I simply referred to the call of nature as " Going for a Brands Hatch. "


2. At the Ritz hotel in London where a suite was being used as a dressing room for various dignitaries at an awards ceremony. It was memorable because as I was dashing in to use the bog for an urgent Number Two the now-dead one of the Two Fat Ladies cooks emerged and uttered the immortal line " I'd give it 20 minutes,love. "
I didn't and she was right.The place stank.But what do you expect given her line of work ?

1. The most memorable dump of my life was actually similar to the number two number two ( if you see what I mean ) only in reverse when this time I was emerging from an Upper Class toilet on Virgin Atlantic having jettisoned a load not unlike Barnes Wallis' famous Dambuster bouncing bomb with accompanying sound effects and odious odour when who should I meet waiting to use the thunderbox but - you've guessed it - old Branson himself.
I was so gobsmacked I forgot to issue the 20 minute warning as a gentleman should but I can tell you that rictus smile was wiped off his mug when he emerged.

So, in that sense, I'd dead against any laws prohibiting dumps on a plane.

Wahaay !