Now that’s real courage ... taking off in a supersonic flying laptop!
WeLL, that’s calculated to fill us with confidence. When the RAF’s brand new £9 billion Lightning super fighter malfunctions, the ground crew perform a fix by switching it off and on again.
Very high-tech, i must say. Pull the plug out and cross your fingers.
as something of an electronics whizz myself, who has tried the ‘switch-it-off-and-on’ routine with countless tellies and PCs over the years, may i offer our flying gladiators another tip? try yelling at it: ‘ Oh come on, you wretched bloody machine, just work . . . you hateful piece of junk!’
the Lightning did get airborne, on Fighter Pilot: The Real Top Gun (ITV), but the squadron leader looked mortified. he was left muttering something about ‘ ongoing upgrades’ and ‘evolving software’.
i’d be terrified to lift off in a flying laptop still prone to screen freezes and programming bugs. if the operating system goes down, it does it at Mach One . . . more than 700mph. now that’s a computer crash.
the fearless men and women training to fly the thing seemed barely perturbed.
For sheer insouciant courage, there’s no one better than a fighter pilot, and it was the characters in the cockpit — part defender of the realm, part matinee idol — that
made this documentary fly by. When visiting my parents in snowdonia, i’ve often watched the jets from RAF Valley making low altitude training runs, skimming over the roads and lakes, way below the mountain peaks.
Flying instructor Bassy explained the rule for maintaining a safe height: ‘if you can see the legs of the sheep, you’re too low.’
another of Bassy’s sayings will resonate only with viewers of a certain age. Counting off four seconds before a barrel roll, he intoned calmly, ‘One banana, two banana, three banana, four banana.’
if that made you want to sing, ‘nah-nah-nah, na-na nah nah!’ then you grew up watching the Banana splits on saturday morning TV in the seventies.
all pilots from novices to aces need a nickname. We met Butch, Paddles, sedge, Bally and Danners. that last one was short for Danielle and she was the only woman in the group, a former helicopter jockey married to an airline pilot.
While her hubbie is ferrying hen parties to Magaluf, she’s dropping emergency aid supplies in war zones or simulating bombing runs on petro-chemical plants. i bet Danners is wary about the question: ‘ Did you have an interesting day, dear?’
every day for the Beefeaters guarding the Crown Jewels is an interesting one, by the look of Inside The Tower Of London (C5). ‘We’re jovial bearded tour guides. there is that Disney element,’ admitted one Yeoman Warder.
Unlike the cartoon costumes at Disneyland Paris, the red tunics of the Beefeaters are designed with comfort in mind.
they have deep pockets — ideal for concealing a bottle of gin, confided one veteran. his distinctive hat, like a squashed topper, served a secret purpose too: he kept his glasses in it.
every one was plainly proud to do a job he loves (or she — two are women). their role is a marvellous mix of soldier and performer, with a splendid uniform and a captive audience.
no wonder no one wants to quit — just 404 Yeoman Warders in the history of the tower.
this surprisingly informative series captures the love of duty and history all the Beefeaters share. But being a national celeb has its pitfalls. several are watching their figures.
‘You know what,’ remarked the tailor, busily adjusting their tunics, ‘they’re vain and summer’s coming.’