ABSTRACT
Gordon Spink had been the life and soul of the Yorkshire Lass Inn for years. Every night he would buy a round for anyone he didn’t know, and then regale them, and anyone else prepared to listen, with his memories of life as a fighter pilot. By the time he died, he had become one of the most celebrated characters in the village, and everyone waited for the fly-past which he had always bragged would be given in his honour when he finally met his maker. Imagine their wonder when it was revealed that he had never been further than a day trip to Calais in a Cessna light aircraft, and that his working years had been spent at the controls of a JCB rather than those of a fighter ’plane.
