Captain Non-sensible.

Captain Non-Sensible:



Readers, we often love our Pilots. Most are nice guys. Some are great fun, kind, fair, patient, capable and generally good people to be around. Some though, can be a bit of a handful and it’s these types we are addressing when we tell you about two very peculiar characters in this chapter. We will never generalize, but often, because of their position, male Pilots can be naughty in the strangest and most unbecoming ways! Remember that Pilots are surrounded by nice looking girls a lot of the time. They are high earners, very respected, used to being admired, and they stay in five star hotels in great places. Obviously, this is all fantastic in a man’s mind. It can make some of them a little arrogant. We’ve met some corkers over the years. The burke who droned on and on about his home by the sea in Bournemouth and his model daughter, saying “You’re a pretty girl, but you’re very plain compared to my daughter.” There was also the nutter who would call us in to the flight deck and ask if we wanted to see his cock. He would then pull out one of those rubber chickens they had on Spitting Image. He always got new girls with this, and on the day he got Jue she simply looked him directly in the eye, pointed at the chicken and said “To be honest I’d rather suck that than yours.”

The First Officer sniggered, and Jue said “Don’t you follow in his ways, he is dicing with a sacking if someone gets offended, but at least he’s old enough to retire. You would be left weeping mate!” Good old Jue! She’s fab at getting control of unfunny men. Oh yes, just to clarify, if it had been a really nice, funny guy, the chicken would have made us laugh, as you know, we love a bit of cheek. Coming from a randy, leery fifty odd year old bloke with teeth like broken biscuits, ear hair like a Marmoset monkey, and dinner plate sweat stains under his arms, it was hard to take. The new girls hated him for showing them up, the dirty old man. He’d been doing it for years. Still he didn’t learn a thing, he did it to me two weeks after Jue, which I expected of course. I snatched it off him and said I was going to ask the passengers if they wanted to see the Captain’s cock too! He looked f**king stricken as I left the flight deck. I made an announcement, which he would have heard through the door or on the intercom, asking if any of the passengers had lost it, and if not if any of them would like it. It eventually went to a little disabled boy who thought it was fab! I insisted on giving it a once over with steri-wipes though. That Pilot was the kind of bloke who would scratch his bollocks hard and then sniff his finger ends when he thought no one was looking.

Now, another thing that happened that was horrible but ended up being hilarious was one time we were in Dubai, and it was just a night stop, we only have 24 hours there. We got in really late at night, checked in our to our rooms which were adjoining of course, we always ask for them if we can! It makes it so much easier for borrowing each other’s stuff and chatting. We had to run in to our showers and fresh clothes and rush to the crew room for a drink, all because Jue and one of the First Officers were in full on fancy-each-other mode. The Pilot in question was a really nice looking lad, good repartee, fashionable, (RARE!) and he knew about house music (UNHEARD OF!) Jue was quite taken with him, and of course, he was right in to her, even though they had only chatted briefly on the flight. I saw him searching for her all the time after we left the aircraft and got on the crew bus, you know the thing, distracted. He was watching her all the time.

Well we got to the party and it was the usual mixture of sitting around in little huddled groups, drinking games and the odd funny pissed-up show off dancing to someone’s MP3 and speakers. One minute raucous laughter, one minute everyone knackered and off to their rooms. Announcing to a room party that you are off to your bed means you will be there for at least another forty five minutes. All through the two hours we spent enjoying ourselves, our old Captain had been making a right beeline for me. (Fr*ggin’ charming Readers, Jue gets the young dashing First Officer, I get the old crusty Captain, who looked like he could be lawn green bowling pals with my Great Uncle Morris.) He got me pinned in the corner by myself, and I had to frantically signal to Jue over his shoulders with my eyes to rescue me. I was missing out on a right laugh with our Gay lads, Jordan and Alistair. I kept telling old Four Striper about Hero, and my happiness and my future marriage, but it was like I was speaking Swahili. He was really going for it, telling me that next year, when he retired, he was getting a pension of £120,000 a year, had loads of money invested, and lots of property. He’d bought a home on that Palm Sand Island thing and would I like to go and view it the next day? He assured me that his “next” life partner was going to live like a Princess. He leaned in meaningfully and stroked my cheek. I patted his hand kindly, and in my secretly sarcastic way, I said “Well, she’s a lucky lady indeed. Spend it quickly love, either before she does, or before it goes in death duties.” I heard Jue titter, she always gets my sneaky cracks. Well, I got away and eventually he gave up and drifted off to bed, but before he did he came over to the table, lifted my hand and kissed it. Ermmm, I couldn’t believe that all my talk about my gorgeous Hero hadn’t worked. Jue said he was gallant, but it felt more like blatant. Yes, blatantly angling for a shag, and I looked the best prospect. I was glad when he had gone, it’s not nice being hit on by an insistent old boy.

Well, Jue arranged to have breakfast with the FO, she wasn’t wanting anything more that night, she suddenly wasn’t sure about him, plus she was “eating a Strawberry Mivvi” which is another of our codes for Ladies Monthly Times. So we decided we would go too, but when I looked for my room key card I couldn’t find it, and Jue assured my I had left it in the room, she had hers and both the adjoining doors were unlocked so I could get in. She was convinced it was on the bedside, and I, just a bit tipsy, had no reason to disbelieve her. We giggled and staggered back to the rooms, and let ourselves in to Jue’s. We shoved the telly on, and got our miniature Baileys out of our bags and had a nightcap. Now Readers, we can’t tell you now what we were saying by that stage, the alcohol, tiredness and of course jet lag were all kicking in. It would have been vulgar, cheeky, insulting and not funny to anyone but ourselves. We rocked, we roared, we collapsed squealing with laughter down the side of the bed, we split our sides and the jokes went on and on. We definitely insulted the old crusty Captain, well I know I did anyway, calling him shrivel d**k, and dry knacker, which sent Jue in to creases.

At ten to two, still as high as giggling geese, I opened the doors between the bedrooms and stood on the threshold of the dark room, doing Jue an impression of a little old man wanking. As I reached for the light switch on the dressing table, still laughing and pulling nasty faces, some sudden movement in the bed made me shriek out in terror. Jue yelped too at my shock, and threw herself across her room to my side. She grabbed our empty wine bottle as a weapon, and voice shaking called “Who’s there, who is it?!!” Some one was getting out of my bed. We were both breathing hard as I reached round and snapped the light on, and with our mouths gaping open, we saw our old Captain trying to clamber out of the covers, his eyes all blinky and frightened. “You dirty old get!” Jue yelled, “What are you doing in Lizzy’s room!” He was wearing bottle green Y-fronts with a chewing gum grey elastic trim, and he had loads of frizzy white chest hair, with a gold St. Christopher nestling in it. He had a pot belly, skinny legs and varicose veins. “Get out now before we report you!” Jue shouted. He fumbled around trying to get his trousers on quick. We were astonished, disgusted, furious but drunkenly quite highly amused. Well, of course, I started laughing, I was doubled over by the time he had grabbed his shoes. He said he had the key to the room, that he must have picked the wrong one up, he was sorry, it was a mix-up. It was a lie, the dirty old bugger. He knew his own room number alright! All crew have a hotel room homing device no matter what state they get in to. Plus my stuff was everywhere, my uniform, my toiletries, my nightie gown on the bed, and most alarmingly of all my knickers were there, and I’m quite sure, not where I left them. The thought that he might have “interfered” with my private laceys made us nearly heave. I was cringing and had to chuck them in the bin just in case.

Really, it wasn’t a laughing matter, I don’t know why we found it so funny, well apart from we’d had too much to drink. It was a nasty, perverted thing to do, and showed shocking arrogance and bad judgment on his part. But we made sure he crept out of there like wounded puppy, we humiliated him to within an inch of his manhood by laughing and pointing at his crotch as he tried to escape. We later found one of his socks on the chair, dirty bugger! Well, we thought we had scared him enough not to have to report him, and make the last year of his career a disgrace. He must have done it loads of times over the years, and maybe it had a success rate at one point. I remember a Far Eastern Stewardess say that she gave the Pilots sex so they would leave her alone. Mad logic????? The funny part was that when we were carrying-on in Jue’s room, one of the things that had amused us was that we could here loud snoring through the wall, but we weren’t able to trace the source over the telly. I certainly didn’t realise it was coming from my room. Anyway, after the shock and the hysteria had calmed down, I refused to sleep in my bed in case he had pumped in it. I got in with Jue. The next day at pick up, he studiously ignored us, so we stared at him really hard to make him uncomfortable, and we kept it up for ages. He was bloody squirming. We got him back later on in the flight though, of course we told everyone, and some were appalled, some delighted and some of the Gay lads plotted our revenge. Jordan got a pair of his spare underpants out of his crew bag, little white briefs, and he actually slipped them in to the Captains inside jacket pocket on the hook, when he was in the flight deck getting hot drinks orders. Of course it’s us, so before he did the pant sneaking, we melted a dairy milk chocolate bar in the oven a bit and smeared it on the arse part. We never saw the Captain pull them out of his pocket, but we hope he did it in public, preferably during a custom’s search or in front of the Operations Manager or Chief Training Pilot. It didn’t happen in front of us sadly, but we hope he got the point. Revenge is as sweet as the chocolate in those undies!!!