The Flying Pig
It was a beautiful sunny Saturday. Well I looked up into the
sky and saw a Pig flying, I know you have heard about Pig's Flying before. So I
shouted, "where did you learn to fly Pig?" "I'm not a Pig, I'm a
Pigeon!" He replied sharply. "No you're not, you're a Pig!" I
insisted. With this he crashes to the
floor sobbing. I try to comfort him," there, there, little Piggy, I mean Pigeon."
I said. The Pig cried for days, weeks, months, I was sick of it. Nothing could
get him to shut up, or fly again after this assault on his identity, not even
quadruple helpings of jelly mixed with
apple pie and cream; so I enrolled him for flying lessons at Speke
Airport Flying Club, Liverpool. The Pig was still wailing as I took him for his
first lesson. I whispered to the instructor, "just call him a Pigeon or
you will never get any peace." The pilot says well Pigeon, have you ever
flew before?" Piggy snorts of course I have you plonker, I'm a bloody Pigeon!" "I should have known, those sleek wings,
the beak, lovely feathers. Do forgive me old boy the ex RAF man says.
"Well I will for now." Our fat friend says snottily. The Pilot takes
Piggy through the basics. Piggy just sits there disinterested. "Are you listening Pigeon? all this
could just save your life one day!" The Pilot says getting a little
annoyed with the Pigs attitude. The Pig
concedes by saying. "OK, OK I heard you Biggles, for what it's
worth!" And pays a bit more attention.
Well he stops slouching and sending texts to his mates for thirty
seconds.
Say what you will, this Pig was a
fast learner and excelled at the lessons even though he was a cocky, arrogant
little git. There wasn't a lot this porker didn't know about flying. The pig
and the Pilot soon learned to respect each other. Eventually the pilot figured the tutor pupil
relationship was strong enough for Piggy to accept the fact he was a Pig, and
not a sleek, fast Pigeon. At first the
Pig called the Pilot a blind bastard, but figured his sight must have been
fairly good, if not perfect to be an aircraft instructor. So reluctantly he
accepted the instructor's "Ceci
n'est pas une Pigeon" observation in his log book. The Pig now knew
why his application to The Racing Pigeon Association was forever being
rejected. Another pointer was his wooden
basket was forever breaking, and anyway he just couldn't stand the taste of
corn. "The Flying Pig" was an affectionate name for a rotund ex
goal-keeper at Liverpool Football Club in the sixties. So this was the name Piggy was given at the
Flying Club, he was rather a celebrity in the flying world. Much to the frustration of his instructor who
knew a "bloody good chap" when he saw one, Piggy wasn't allowed to
legally fly solo, or obtain his pilots license. Of course the jokes flowed fast
at the Flying Club, "That was a rash decision." "Pig sick with
that decision." Hogwash it is." Piggy accompanied by his instructor,
would fly commercial flights together with his co pilot. Piggy could add a dash
of fun on long flights with his perfectly
reasonable observations of a shapely Cabin Hostess, nothing could grow in the
shade of her breasts." And. "She could crack walnuts in her arse for
another."
There was nothing unusual about flight BA527 to Los Angeles,
all instruments operated normally and the flight maintained good progress. The
weather charts and reports indicated a trouble free journey. A little girl
clutched a doll as she slept in seat 322A, her mother stroked her hair. Suddenly
and without warning the jets instruments failed, everything, the Captain had to
fly manually. The pitch dial jammed, so Piggy made a rough dial with a glass of
water and felt tip for the divisions. This just got them by. "I knew we
should have bought Duracell batteries boys?" He said chomping on a
beefsteak. His little jokes helped ease the tension. And so it was in this vain
they continued the flight to LA in pitch blackness.
2.
At this point the passengers
dozed unaware of any serious problems, to most this would be a disaster, not so
to an ex RAF pilot and a confident Pig this was but a fly landing on your neck,
irritating but not a big event. The Captain concentrated on keeping the jet on a
steady course, air traffic control kept him informed of his position and
height. "What are we doing in LA
boys, a few drinks and a meal?" Lawrence the Co Pilot was forever joking
with Piggy. "You off to the McDonalds Lawrence when we splashdown?"
"No use, there would be none left after your visit Pig." Lawrence
replied. "I'm off to shake hands with my best friend," Piggy said as
he made his way past the security door. "Any chance of holding this steady
for me Angels?" Piggy said to the Cabin Crew girls standing near the
toilet. "I'm willing to assist." Julian the gay Chief Steward lisped.
"Erm I think I can suddenly manage!" Piggy assured everyone. Pig's
visits to the toilet caused much discussion amongst the Crew, the grunts,
smell, and strange noises had them on the floor laughing.
Well Piggy settled down for his
marathon read of Playboy, it was then he noticed he kept slipping off his seat
to the starboard side. There was some vibration and screams coming from the
Passenger quarters. Piggy dropped his magazine cursing, jumped up, and trotted
off towards the Cabin. He met a Cabin Crew girl holding the communication
phone. Piggy looked her up and down before saying, "what's the problem
kid?" "It's Lawrence he's struggling on his own!" She said with
panic in her voice. Piggy took full advantage to comfort her of course, giving
her lingering "concerned" cuddles in near the knuckle places. Finally
she realised his mixed intentions and pushed his trotter away. Well he was
rumbled good style, so carried on through the secure door to the Cockpit.
Inside the Captain was slumped over in his seat as Lawrence struggled to gain
control of the Aircraft. Piggy took control while Lawrence helped the sick
Captain. Piggy soon eased the Jet back level and regained height and position.
"Bloody hell I was just on the Centre Fold, with Jackie Roberts, Lawrence!" Piggy joked as if nothing had happened. Air traffic control
were hugely concerned, they could hardly understand Piggy, and shook their
heads at each other. One said, "I must have a break, he addressed himself
as "Piggy?" " Must be a lack of oxygen." The chief
controller said. "Now look erm, Piggy we are ready, keep your course, do
you understand?" "What do you think I am a Chinese Waiter or
something? Of course I can read you!" Piggy snorted not understanding what
all the fuss was about. Piggy soon got bored and started controlling the craft
with his hind trotters, with his hands behind his head. "I would feel more
comfortable if you held the controls properly Piggy!" Lawrence said
concerned. "Easy, peasy" Piggy laughed, "you want to get
something for those nerves Lawrence Baby." Figuring Lawrence had suffered
enough and could be close to breaking point, Piggy resumed normal control of
the aircraft.
Air Traffic Control asked how the Captain was
feeling. Piggy said "a few too many last night chaps, that Turkish belly
dancer must have brought his blood pressure up." The ATC obviously thought
it was an oxygen problem and took no notice of Piggy's flip comments.
"Take control Lawrence, I'm going outside for a fag mate!" Piggy
joked. Lawrence took up position for the approach to landing. The aircraft
seemed steady enough and although a little bumpy all was well. Outside a fire
crew and ambulance waited, in the end only the Captain needed attention for
concussion, he hit his head when the jet banked suddenly. TV crews and the
press gathered round, Piggy gave Lawrence all the praise for bringing the
aircraft in safely. Piggy was interviewed and was quoted as saying, "I
would kill for a triple kebab ."
3.
He had put in his order with the local restaurant before landing, this was a change from the
usual "I thought we were done for!" Most had contacted loved one's,
but not our Piggy, belly first for him! He was quite a celebrity now around LA,
with his dry humour and quick wit, his image was splashed all over the gossip
magazines, never without a drink, a meal and woman close by. Not necessarily in that order. This fame circuit can be brutal
and for an animal at the shallow end of the gene pool for looks, more so. So it
came to pass piggy's phone stopped ringing, the parties, TV slots became as
rare as an ice cube in a steelworks. Apartments in this part of the world don't
come cheap and a Pig with no money soon finds himself in the less accommodating
areas of the city. It was with great
sadness and regret he had to sell his last whiff of success, his beloved Rolex.
A pig is a tasty meal for a group of
homeless hobos, with empty bellies, so Piggy had to be careful he wouldn't wind
up with a spike up his arse and his head in a billy pot. He dressed down and
kept himself to himself. Scavenging in
bins was no fun, so Piggy thought I've had enough of this bloody lark, I'm
learning to fly again. So Piggy found the highest rocky hill he could climb,
took a deep breath and launched himself skyward. After a few painful landings and
boxes of sticking plasters he willed himself skywards. Boy he felt good, this
was what he was born for, not lying on some greasy plate smothered in egg yoke
and beans.
Now the good thing was he could roam the skies, free in the
knowledge that if he was spotted nobody could possibly believe a pig could fly,
they would surely consider it the illusion of a tired mind, or an appointment
with their psychiatrist is required. Well when we are being told a tall tale,
what do we say? "Oh yes and Pigs
can fly!" Now you all know different don't you?
Kevin Humphreys
July 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment