The Baby Biggles Debacle

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Good day my fine friends and an abundance of apologies for the absence of my daily blog for the past week.   I am hoping you pined for yours truly as much as I you. Today’s funny picture is from when I paid a visitation to my petit pal, the Biggle-abee, here.

He had apparently, through practical application, improvisation of a motley assortment of domestic utility pieces, the clearly conscientious recycling of otherwise waste products and use of a, rather dubious, panel of controllability concocted through his own, admittedly admirably creative, endeavours, this rather smashing, but questionably viable, craft of aviation type.

Keen to boast to lesser constructive types, he had instructed my good self to “Hop in me pal to partake in a flight”   However, due perhaps to an oversight, resource lack or sheer selfishness in the design stage the said craft enjoyed only a single occupancy cockpit resulting in a far tooooo close personal proximity of uber snug and literally breathtaking experience. Bambino Biggles said “hold ye tight my freaky green amigo as I am familiar with your renowned vanity of your exceptional dentistry and due to a misalignment with an area of engineering there could be a resulting vibration that could well bring about the loosening of such prized dentates, household knick knackery and perhaps even effect severe structural displacement of my habitats walls.”   Well! Yours, without doubt a great advocate for the power of positivity and the application of a determined unshakable will, truly felt that only divine intervention could bring about the required propulsive thrust and lift to bear this winged vessel airborne and skywards compelled.   I informed him that a lift to drag ratio of about 20-1 was required to enable his sky-aspiring ship to soar and, quite literally, from the hand of God alone.

He, apparently more than a tad miffed at my inability to muster up faith in his vessel of aviation ability bandied harsh-ities upon myself to which only a retaliation could result therefore a bumbling verbal and tangible altercation followed and yours truly was forcibly ejected, from thankfully, only .0 feet.    The still crazed pilot was hell bent on being heavens bound but was finding difficulty due to a lack of control of his temperament affecting any such control of his craft which now took a not anticipated but, with hindsight inevitable roll, resulting in devastating wreckage of this fated airship and a goodly number of M’Laydee-of-the-house’s fine fripperies, an immediately bed-bound no supper type chastisement for my no longer cheery chum and the necessity for yours, always ready to evade wraths, truly, taking flight.
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