Dear Reader,

May I dwell upon your imagination to recreate a scene from WWII:

Picture if you would, the captain of our Mosquito, returning to blighty with only 1 engine left running, the live throttle firewalled so that the all the live guages are now right off the dial, fuel pouring from three tanks and the airframe so shot so to shit so that the there's more drag than lift. Our man get's overhead the closest short runway, digs the wheels in like he wants to plough up the tarmac and slightly sideways on, collapsing the mains. A huge shower of sparks threatens to set the whole lot on fire, before skidding backwards through the the perimeter hedge. Leaving the aircraft, two of the crew complain about the landing. The ground crew complain that they'll have to move the wreckage, and our man reports to the tower.

On leaving the tower, a fellow captain enquires "spot of bother with the kite chap".

I guess it's only when you've been there that understatement can be shared?

Good night.