Terrorists have kidnapped Congress!!
 

A driver was stuck in a traffic jam on the highway outside Washington, DC. Nothing was moving. Suddenly, a man knocks on the window of his car.

The driver rolls down the window and asks, “What’s going on?”;

“Terrorists have kidnapped Congress, and they’re asking for a $100 million dollar ransom. Otherwise, they’re going to douse them all in gasoline and set them on fire. We’re going from car to car, collecting donations.”;

“How much is everyone giving, on average?” the driver asks.

The man replies, “Roughly a gallon.”;

Looks like they've met their match.

Aussie aviation, this is long, but worth it.

Sharni, no liquids while reading this please.


G'day Mate,
I am writing to you because I need your help to get me bloody pilot's licence back.
You keep telling me you got all the right contacts. Well now's your chance to make something happen for me because, mate, I'm bloody desperate. But first, I'd better tell you what happened during my last flight review with the CAA Examiner.

On the phone, Ron (that's the CAA dickhead), seemed a reasonable sort of a bloke. He politely reminded me of the need to do a flight review every two years. He even offered to drive out, have a look over my property and let me
operate from my own strip. Naturally I agreed to that.

Anyway, Ron turned up last Wednesday. First up, he said he was a bit surprised to see the plane on a small strip outside my homestead because the "ALA"(Authorized Landing Area), is about a mile away. I explained that
because this strip was so close to the homestead, it was more convenient than the "ALA," and despite the power lines crossing about midway down the strip, it's really not a problem to land and take-off because at the
halfway point down the strip you're usually still on the ground.

For some reason Ron, seemed nervous. So, although I had done the pre-flight inspection only four days earlier, I decided to do it all over again. Because the prick was watching me carefully, I walked around the plane three
times instead of my usual two.

My effort was rewarded because the colour finally returned to Ron's cheeks. In fact, they went a bright red. In view of Ron's obviously better mood, I told him I was going to combine the test flight with some farm work, as I
had to deliver three "poddy calves" from the home paddock to the main herd.
After a bit of a chase I finally caught the calves and threw them into the back of the ol' Cessna 172. We climbed aboard but Ron, started getting onto me about weight and balance calculations and all that crap. Of course I
knew that sort of thing was a waste of time because calves, like to move around a bit particularly when they see themselves 500-feet off the ground!
So, it's bloody pointless trying to secure them as you know. However, I did tell Ron that he shouldn't worry as I always keep the trim wheel set on neutral to ensure we remain pretty stable at all stages throughout the flight.

Anyway, I started the engine and cleverly minimized the warm-up time by tramping hard on the brakes and gunning her to 2,500 RPM. I then discovered that Ron has very acute hearing, even though he was wearing a bloody
Headset. Through all that noise he detected a metallic rattle and demanded I account for it. Actually it began about a month ago and was caused by a screwdriver that fell down a hole in the floor and lodged in the fuel
selector mechanism. The selector can't be moved now but it doesn't matter because it's jammed on "All tanks," so I suppose that's okay.

However, as Ron was obviously a nit-picker, I blamed the noise on vibration from a stainless steel thermos flask which I keep in a beaut little possie between the windshield and the magnetic compass. My explanation seemed to
relax Ron, because he slumped back in the seat and kept looking up at the cockpit roof. I released the brakes to taxi out but unfortunately the plane gave a leap and spun to the right. "Hell" I thought," not the starboard wheel chock again."

The bump jolted Ron back to full alertness. He looked around just in time to see a rock thrown by the prop-wash disappear completely through the windscreen of his brand new Commodore. "Now I'm really in trouble," I thought...

While Ron was busy ranting about his car, I ignored his requirement that we taxi to the "ALA" and instead took off under the power lines. Ron didn't say a word, at least not until the engine started coughing right at the lift
off point and then he bloody screamed > his head off. "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!"

"Now take it easy Ron," I told him firmly. "That often happens on take-off and there is a good reason for it." I explained patiently that I usually run the plane on standard MOGAS but one day I accidentally put in a gallon or
two of kerosene. To compensate for the low octane of the kerosene, I siphoned in a few gallons of super MOGAS and shook the wings up and down a few times to mix it up. Since then, the engine has been coughing a bit but
in general it works just fine, if you know how to coax it properly..

Anyway, at this stage Ron seemed to lose all interest in my test flight. He pulled out some rosary beads, closed his eyes and became lost in prayer. (I didn't think anyone was a Catholic these days) I selected some nice music
on the HF radio to help him relax. Meanwhile, I climbed to my normal cruising altitude of 10,500-feet. I don't normally put in a flight plan or get the weather because, as you know getting FAX access out here is a
friggin' joke and the weather is always "8/8 blue" anyway. But since I had that near miss with a Saab 340, I might have to change me thinking on that.

Anyhow, on levelling out, I noticed some wild camels heading into my improved pasture. I hate bloody camels, and always carry a loaded 303, clipped inside the door of the Cessna just in case I see any of the bastards..

We were too high to hit them but as a matter of principle, I decided to have a go through the open window. Mate, when I pulled the bloody rifle out, the effect on Ron, was friggin electric. As I fired the first shot his
neck lengthened by about six inches and his eyes bulged like a rabbit with myxo. He really looked as if he had been jabbed with an electric cattle prod on full power. In fact, Ron's reaction was so distracting that I lost concentration for a second and the next shot went straight through the port tyre. Ron was a bit upset about the shooting (probably one of those pinko animal lovers I guess) so I decided not to tell him about our little problem with the tyre.

Shortly afterwards I located the main herd and decided to do my fighter pilot trick. Ron had gone back to praying when, in one smooth sequence, I pulled on full flaps, cut the power and started a sideslip from 10,500-feet down to 500-feet at 130, knots indicated (the last time I looked anyway) and the little needle rushed up to the red area on me ASI. What a buzz, mate! About half way through the descent I looked back in the cabin to see the calves gracefully suspended in mid air and mooing like crazy. I was going to comment to Ron on this unusual sight but he looked a bit green and had rolled himself into the foetal position and was screaming' his 'freakin' head off. Mate, talk about being in a bloody zoo. You should've been there,
it was so bloody funny!

At about 500-feet I levelled out but for some reason we kept sinking. When we reached 50-feet, I applied full power but nothing happened. No noise no nothin. Then, luckily, I heard me instructor's voice in me head saying "carb heat, carb heat." So I pulled carb heat on and that helped quite a lot, with the engine finally regaining full power. Whew, that was really close, let me tell you!

Then mate, you'll never guess what happened next! As luck would have it, at that height we flew into a massive dust cloud caused by the cattle and suddenly went I.F. bloody R, mate. You would have been really proud of me as
I didn't panic once, not once but I did make a mental note to consider an instrument rating as soon as me gyro is repaired (something I've been meaning to do for a while now). Suddenly Ron's elongated neck and bulging
eyes reappeared. His Mouth opened very wide but no sound emerged. "Take it easy," I told him, "we'll be out of this in a minute." Sure enough, about a minute later we emerged, still straight and level and still at 50-feet.

Admittedly I was surprised to notice that we were upside down and I kept thinking to myself, "I hope Ron didn't notice that I had forgotten to set the QNH when we were taxiing." This minor tribulation forced me to fly to a
nearby valley in which I had to do a half roll to get upright again.

By now the main herd had divided into two groups leaving a narrow strip between them. "Ah!" I thought, "there's an omen. We'll land right there."
Knowing that the tyre problem demanded a slow approach, I flew a couple of steep turns with full flap. Soon the stall warning horn was blaring so loud in me ear that I cut it's circuit breaker to shut it up but by then I knew
we were slow enough anyway. I turned steeply onto a 75-foot final and put her down with a real thud. Strangely enough, I had always thought you could only ground loop in a tail dragger but, as usual, I was proved wrong again!

Halfway through our third loop, Ron at last recovered his sense of humour. Talk about laugh. I've never seen the likes of it. He couldn't stop. We finally rolled to a halt and I released the calves, who bolted out of the
aircraft like there was no tomorrow.

I then began picking clumps of dry grass. Between gut wrenching fits of laughter, Ron asked what I was doing. I explained that we had to stuff the port tyre with grass so we could fly back to the homestead. It was then that
Ron, really lost the plot and started running away from the aircraft. Can you believe it? I saw him running off into the distance, arms flailing in the air and still shrieking with laughter. I later heard that he had been
confined to a psychiatric institution - poor bugger!

Anyhow mate, that's enough about Ron. The problem is I got this letter from CASA withdrawing, as they put it, my privileges to fly; until I have undergone a complete pilot training course again and undertaken another
flight proficiency test.

Now I admit that I made a mistake in taxiing over the wheel chock and not setting the QNH using strip elevation but I can't see what else I did that was a so bloody bad that they have to withdraw me flamin' license. Can you?

Ralph H. Bell Mud Creek Station

Excellent! :thumb:

Sounded pretty routine to me. :spin:



:D

I know people who think like that, seriously.

I've heard of a fishing net dragged behind a chopper recently.

This is the boonies.

Yeah, I was thinking I'd flown with that guy!!

Anyway, moving on…….

A guy is driving around Ayrshire and he sees a sign in front of a house that says Talking Dog For Sale.
He rings the bell and the owner tells him the dog is in the back garden. The guy goes into the back garden and sees a Labrador retriever sitting there.

"Is this the one that talks?" he asks. Breeder says "Aye."

Bloke kneels down in front of the pooch, starts to pat it and says "So, what's your story?"

The Lab looks up and says, "Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I told the MI5 about my gift, and in no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping. I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running. But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn't getting any younger so I decided to settle down. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in.

I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals. So, as a reward they retired me, got me lovely Labrador bitch to share my kennel with. I had a mess of puppies, and now I'm just living the life of Reilly."

The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.


"Ten quid," the guy says.


"Ten quid? This dog is amazing. Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?"


"He's a fuckin' liar. He never did any of that shite."

Three Aussie blokes working up on an outback mobile phone tower:
Mongrel, Coot and Bluey .As they start their descent, Coot slips, falls
off the tower and is killed instantly..

As the ambulance takes the body away,
Bluey says, 'Well, bugger me, someone's gotta go and tell Coot's wife.
Mongrel says, 'OK, I'm pretty good at that sensitive stuff, I'll do it.'

Two hours later, he comes back carrying a case of Beer.
Bluey says, 'Where'd you get the grog,Mongrel?'
'Coot's wife gave it to me,' Mongrel replies.

'That's unbelievable, you told the Missus her
husband was dead and she gave you a case of beer?'
'Well, not exactly', Mongrel says.'When she answered the door, I said to her,
"you must be Coot's widow."

She said, 'You must be mistaken..I'm not a widow.'

Then I said, 'I'll betcha a case of beer you are..'

Aussies are good at that sensitive stuff.

Friendship among Women:
A woman didn't come home one night.
The next morning she told her husband that she had slept over at a friend's house.
The man called his wife's 10 best friends. None of them knew anything about it.


Friendship among Men:
A man didn't come home one night.
The next morning he told his wife that he had slept over at a friend's house.
The woman called her husband's 10 best friends. Eight confirmed that he had slept over, and two said he was still there.

The Arab and the Scotsman

An Arab Sheik was admitted to St Vincents Hospital for heart surgery, but
prior to the surgery, the doctors needed to store his blood in case the need
arises. As the gentleman had a rare type of blood, it couldn't be found
locally, so, the call went out to all the states.

Finally a Scot was located who had a similar blood type. The Scot willingly
donated his blood for the Arab. After the surgery, the Arab sent the
Scotsman as appreciation for giving his blood, a new BMW, diamonds & US
dollars.

A couple of days later, once again, the Arab had to go through a corrective
surgery. His doctor telephoned the Scotsman who was more than happy to
donate his blood again.

After the second surgery, the Arab sent the Scotsman a thank-you card & a
jar of candies.

The Scotsman was shocked that the Arab this time did not reciprocate his
kind gesture as he had anticipated. He phoned the Arab & asked him: "I
thought you would be generous again, that you would give me a BMW, diamonds
& money... But you only gave me a thank-you card & a jar of candies".

To this the Arab replied: "Och, aye th'noo, Jimmy!"

Two Irish couples decided to swap partners for the night.

After 3 hours of amazing sex, Paddy says "I wonder how the girls are getting on".

Drums in his heart were strummin' ... cock in his bum was plummin' ... his bonnie lad was cummin' shootin' his seed! :D

Dave and Jim were a couple of drinking buddies who worked as aircraft mechanics in Melbourne, Australia ...

One day the airport was fogged in and they were stuck in the
hangar with nothing to do.


Dave said, 'Man, I wish we had something to drink!'


Jim says, 'Me too. Y'know, I've heard you can drink jet fuel and get a buzz.

You wanna try it?'

So they pour themselves a couple of glasses of high octane booze and get completely smashed.

The next morning Dave wakes up and is surprised at how good he feels.

In fact he feels GREAT! NO hangover! NO bad side effects.

Nothing!

Then the phone rings. It's Jim. Jim says, 'Hey, how do you feel this morning?'

Dave says, 'I feel great, how about you?'
Jim says, 'I feel great, too. You don't have a hangover?'

Dave says, 'No that jet fuel is great stuff -- no hangover, nothing. We ought to do this more often..'

' Yeah, well there's just one thing.'

'What's that?'

'Have you farted yet?'

'No.'

'Well, DON'T - cause I'm in New Zealand!'

A group of primary school infants, accompanied by two female teachers, went on a field trip to Flemington races ( Melbourne race course) to see and learn about thoroughbred horses.

When it was time to take the children to the toilet, it was decided that the girls would go with one teacher and the boys would go with the other.

The teacher assigned to the boys was waiting outside the men's toilet when one of the boys came out and told her that none of them could reach the urinal..

Having no choice, she went inside, helped the boys with their underpants, and began hoisting the boys up, one by one, holding their willies to direct the flow away from their clothes.

As she lifted one, she couldn't help but notice that he was unusually well endowed. Trying not to show that she was staring, the teacher said, 'You must be in year four.'

"No, love,"he replied. "I'm riding Silver Arrow in the 2.15"

:roflmao: