Friday 13 June 2014

Don't you point that thing at me!

 Clutching my pearls chest to make sure I hadn't just been stabbed through the heart by Concorde, I stared up to the cockpit of the gleaming white airliner, wondering who the reckless pilot was. Behind the windscreens I could discern movement, then, one of the side windows was wound down and a familiar-looking arm and head poked out.
 Even if I hadn't recognised the handsome face, the sheer magnitude of sexy arrogance plastered across it was a dead giveaway. It was Knight!

OK, so this clearly isn't Knight. It's not even Concorde's cockpit.
It's actually the Smokin' (it says so on his assignment patch) Flight Lieutenant
Russell Adams of the Royal Australian Air Force.

 "Hello, DeVice" he greeted me through a devastating smile. I was thunderstruck! I hadn't seen him in years, and now he turns up, quite literally out of the blue, in bloody Concorde! I think I actually gaped. "You're looking as lovely as ever."
 Suddenly, and with a loud whirring noise, Concorde's nose rose up and locked into its fully erect parked position as Knight gazed down at me with a salacious grin. I couldn't prevent the blush from taking over my face and, somewhat flustered, fumbled Hat's brim down a bit in the hope of obscuring it.
 While I fannied about with the press releases attempted to compose myselves, Knight disembarked and strode purposefully towards me. Much as I wanted to play it cool, the SubCs took over and fawned embarrassingly over our barely-uniformed not-really-an-ex-as-we-were-never-technically-an-item ex.
Hey! It wasn't all us.
Yeah, the Host played a big part, too.
 I think the less said about my part, big or otherwise, the better! Now, hush up.
 Will you lot shut up! I'm recounting this tale of aerial disaster, not you!
 Now, where was I? Oh, yes:

 "Ah, that's better" Knight sighed after he'd removed his flight jacket. Naturally, he wasn't wearing anything underneath and looked absolutely stunning. The years had been good to him and now, in his mid-forties, he and his abs looked better than ever. Bastard. "It's so hot out here. Especially after being in that air-conditioned cockpit."
 After gazing at him for what felt like an eternity and thinking thoughts I hadn't entertained since World War Two, I finally managed to pull myselves together and ask the obvious question. "What on Earth are you doing here?"
 Maddeningly, he just smiled that irritating, slightly patronising, smile-that-I-can't-resist, took my hand in his and led me towards the Control Tower Cabin. I was lost for words again.
 He booked his unusual inbound flight in the Movements book at Control, then, still silent but smiling, took my hand again and wandered over to the 'Cabin Crew' Diner. He left me outside and went in alone - a mistake, as, no longer under his spell, I was able to reassert myselves. I glared through the cabin window where I could see him flirting outrageously with the poor woman standing behind the counter. Poor Val was practically the colour of a beetroot by the time he'd finished with her, and so flustered that she was attempting to butter a washing up sponge using an egg whisk.
 "Well?" I prompted him with no small amount of impatience. Unable to take my hand again due to holding three cans of ginger beer, Knight cocked his head and gave me that kicked puppy look (seventh paragraph down), but luckily I had prepared myself for it. "Why are you here?"
 He gazed past me towards the runway before making eye contact again. "I heard about your last-minute collection of mythological flying machines and thought you might appreciate another addition."
 I was momentarily stunned. "But... But Concorde isn't mythological!"
 "Isn't it? When was the last time you saw one?" he asked, handing me a ginger beer as he did so.
 "I see one right now" I said darting a look over my shoulder.
 "I meant apart from now."
 "Er... Um..." I racked my brain and luckily the Host provided. "Twenty five years ago at Duxford! I actually went aboard the pre-production prototype Concorde 101, so there." Quite how I managed to prevent the Host from sticking his tongue out I don't know.
 "Well" Knight responded, "if you want to use it for this... well, whatever it is you're doing, you can. If not" and he looked past me again, a proper smile on his lips, "we'll just be on our way."
 Hang on, I thought. We? That was a little presumptuous even for Knight. I looked over my shoulder again to where he had averted his gaze. There on the runway, manhandling the supersonic airliner so it pointed in the right direction for take-off, was a figure in the same state of undress as Knight and far more muscular. The younger man looked up at us and gave a grin and a Gay Wave before resuming his feat of extraordinary strength. It was Blacksmith

Again, not Blacksmith (although he does look remarkably like him),
just another excuse to gaze at the adorable Russell Adams

  Ah, so that's who the third can of ginger beer was for! "So. You and Blacksmith, eh?" I prompted, surprisingly unsurprised.
  "Yes. Me and Blacksmith." He paused and studied my face for my reaction and, seeing my surprisingly genuine happiness for them, continued. "And it's all down to you."
 "Me?" I felt like kicking myself.
 "Of course. Don't you remember our little dalliance?"
 I thought back through the years, coming to a halt back in 2006. "Oh, yes..."
 "It took some time, what with one thing and another, but we eventually got together a couple of months ago." Knight looked over at Blacksmith again, who had, by this time, manoeuvred Concorde into position and was walking towards us with a grin on his face, his enormous muscles bulging and rippling disconcertingly. "We wanted to tell you as soon as possible because of our" and he indicated the two of us "nearly-but-not-quite relationship all those years ago. This aerial insurance ad thing was just a happy coincidence."
 "Well. I... I'm happy for you. Both of you" I said as Blacksmith joined us. "But you" I continued, pointing at Knight "have got to stop flirting at people!" Knight gave a good natured downcast look then turned to greet Blacksmith. Before they got carried away in a Public Display of Affection, I made my excuse to leave. "Right. I'd better go and find out what happened to those flying saucers!" 

To be continued (kind of) in... Flying Saucery



  1. Never say no to a man who can handle his concorde, or a Kenwood food mixer.
    Ancient Vermillion Proverb iixvi

  2. Knight *is* a mean chef (and handy with a Kenwood). I guess the proverb's right which is why he always seems to get what he wants, Ms Scarlet.

  3. I went aboard a Concorde at the Museum of Flight in Seattle two years ago. I'm 6'1" tall and found walking down the aisle a bit cramped. Although I image settling into the seat for a flight would be comfy.

    If memory serves, I recall that Mr Device is very tall. What were your impressions of the interior?

  4. Small, LX. Very small. I also remember it being a little shabby, but I imagine that's from having hundreds of gawkers traipsing through it every day.
    I've had a look online at the latest interior Concorde was fitted with, and I have to agree that it looked very comfy.

  5. So, no ginger beer for you?

  6. I've learned far more about aviation today than ever in a lifetime.

  7. 'Petra: Ah. I appear to have forgotten to write the bit where Knight and I crack open the tinnies.


    MJ: Did you get carried away with Concorde's parked proboscis?

  8. I couldn't bare it any longer, 'Petra. I've added the can!

  9. Thank you! NOW we can focus on what's really important here. his enormous muscles bulging and rippling disconcertingly


Tickle my fancy, why don't you?