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The Spitfire in the foreground looks like Disney's version of Tigger. Surely just a coincidence. If, however, the Disney Corporation doesn't deem it to be a random event there could be danger ahead. The consequences are too frightening to contemplate, but let's attempt the unthinkable anyway.
If Spitfires are Tiggers then they no longer belong to Supermarine they belong to Disney. Tiger tanks will no longer be allowed to be referred to as such, as Tiger is too close to Tigger. It wouldn't be long, as a brand protection strategy, that Tiger tanks would no longer belong to Henschel they would belong to Disney. After that it wouldn't take long for the corporate copyright lawyers realise that there is no copyright on World War Two...soon after that World War Two will belong to Disney.
Uurgh! is the lesser known version of Aargh! Not so much a regional dialectic derivative but more of independently derived from the root Ug! or Ugh! depending on interpretation or academic school of thought.
The use of Uurgh! is still highly acceptable even though the dictates of fashion have seen it fall from mainstream use.
The statement stern. The look even more stern. The thin moustache even sterner still. Welcome back Moustache Monday!
Even though the flagrant forelock is highly questionable, there is little to deny the impression and importance of that trim moustache running in parallel to those dark eyebrows.
So stay there until the morning and consider your options while you wallow in your self-made confinement and consider the joys and wonderment that is Moustache Monday!
How good is Stuka Sunday in colour? Now this is special!
Why should this lot be happy? Can't they see that things aren't going their way? Don't they know they're going to find themselves on the wrong side of history, forevermore to have their motivations questioned and their actions tossed about by revisionists? Or is it simply that they're happy because they're not at home ? You know how it goes..."I'm just stepping out to get some cigarettes...back soon dear". Or is it the company of men brings a certain relief? Is the fresh pine scented country air? Or is it that Germans are actually the (secret) happy people of Europe?
Americans appear to be such an untrusting lot. What is it in their national psyche that drives them in that direction? Is it because they can't differentiate between accents? Is it because as a non-miliatary short wearing peoples they are unable to grasp the concept of knees at war? Is it because the British are good at that kind of warrior presentation that Americans shun the idea? Or is it an extension of their origins in Puritanism? One thing that is for certain is that they appear to value suspicion.
Even Stuka Sunday can have a bad day. Oh well, some days are up and some are down. Time to bale out and try again.
"He who does not like the Lysander does not like life itself or themselves", or so the old air mechanics would say. Truely beautiful words for a beautiful machine. The enemy can only shake their fists in futile rage. It is all they have when confronted by such beauty and their own self denial.
Two times the trouble, on a Sunday? It must be time for Stuka Sunday, eh kameraden.
One must be awfully polite to be a Lysander pilot. The brash or dull types (most often the one and the same) would self identify for other duties and embark on short but glorious careers.
It takes the right sort of chap in ability, spirit, and temperament to fly the Lysander. Even those these qualities may not be self-evident to those who hold them, they speak volumes to those who recognise them.
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