Alright, who in bloody hell used the brake fluid in my Jag for taste enhancment in the rusty ole still behind barracks five. Dont even try to distance yourself from such a treacherous deed. Have you any idea how hard it was extracting myself from the damned dashboard as the car leapt from the roadway and into the pond at the edge of town. I know Sir JR2 has the knowledge to make North Carolina brand xxx moonshine and would be all too happy to whip up a batch for the boys in the squadron. Or Sir Old Dux, who wouldnt hestitate to drink the stuff straight out of the worn out radiator hose. Or perhaps it was C51 who is probably still chilled from his recent artic adventure and was looking for a quick warmer.
Well I can tell my Spit was left alone (thank you C51) but it appears my Jag became fair game. I can assure you bunch of misfit flyboys of one thing. If I find out who disarmed my stoppin flaps I'm gonna.. I'm gonna...well I dont know what the hell I'll do but whatever it is it will make a scrap with Jerry look like a freakin picnic in Picadilly. Damned winged pirates the lot of ya.
