Deep-throat’s fractured Fairy tales.

Resurrected  by popular demand.
From Willyleaks:-
My maiden address to the IOS.
Good evening - It was in the 1960’s when the elder Sir Hercules Grytpype-Thynne (HGT) was despatched by HM to the convicts paradise; not that there was any other choice – apparently, some elderly ladies understood the insults and risqué invitations, in Hindi -  broadcast during the most serious of the imperial BBC’s offerings – the Goon Show. The question about exactly how the elegant dowager ladies understood such things was never raised. Naturally, the founder of the HGT dynasty found his way to the capitol and won a government job, on a bluff one night – in a cathouse poker game. Once ‘in the door’ it was easy for a practiced ear to pick up juicy morsels while keeping a low profile. These morsels were used to great effect in establishing another Canberra public service dynasty whilst lining the family coffers. The job was handed down from father to son; and, for any other blood relatives who could both read and write (joined up writing not required) the entry passage was ‘smoothed’ (greased is the vulgar term used). Thus was a family dynasty established, one which still flourishes to this very day. I can tell you that if the Mafia could arrange such a smooth running operation (and few less public brawls) they would be a whole lot better off. “Legal safety” being the motto of the Grytpype clan, well that and the unspoken ‘litigation avoidance’ rider.
You are probably wondering why I take this time to introduce my self to the unwashed, the unshriven, the IOS and the BRB.  Well. It is a strange tale; which began, prosaically enough in the underground carpark of parliament house. I’d just finished bidding my PA a fond goodnight just to the side of the CCTV camera when a strangely shaped, short, hooded figure appeared from the darkest shadows; “Allo Sir Hercules” he said in a raspy, though high pitched voice. I just kept walking of course; but the two bright eyes which looked straight into mine slowed my progress; as I beeped the Benz into life I thought ‘I know that voice’ – from my dreams. Slowly, I turned to face the apparition. “How ya doing” it said -quite friendly. “Should I know you?” I managed to say.
“No mate” says the apparition; “but you will; I come bearing gifts and promises”.
“And what would you expect in return for these gifts” say’s I; trying to sound as if Baksheesh was an alien concept; “who are you anyway?”
“Just call me GD” says the vison, he went on “look, we know the system in there, how it works, how the spoils are divided and where you stand in the pecking order; we also have your cathouse, Poker and taxi details, not to mention the Never-Tell motel credit card details”. “But, we would never mention those; they are worthless in your world, where everyone is ‘at-it’ – they don’t signify; so, we offer a gift”.
(Thinks) Cherissst on a pogo stick; how much does this creature know?
Almost as I thought it; the quiet voice followed along afterwards – “all of it mate; all of it; the whole nine yards” he said.  “Look here Grytpype; you have finagled a third level slot in the ministers crew, you are almost invisible, party to but not part of the discussions – you hear it all, make your little side deals over a ‘working lunch’ whisper it all into the ear of the man you ‘know’ and get your ‘lunch’ and ‘afternoon diversions’ covered - as a consultant to your lunch date – fact”.
Well, I took a deep breathe I can tell you; brain whizzing at speed, looking for an out. Then – he said - “we don’t want to blow your cover or spoil the games, in fact we applaud the keeping up of family tradition, we only seek some inside information on how your minister responds and reacts to some issues; principally, those related to matters aeronautical, that’s all; little more than gossip really – so: whatd’yasay?”
I thought about it for a moment – the minister is and will always be a prize clown and with any luck at all not be there at all after the election (Aside: if the party don’t get him the electorate will).  – So, what harm could there be in feeding a snippet or two of inside ‘gos’ to the little fellah?–It would depend on what was in it for me. “Well” say’s I -  “suppose I could pass on a little tittle-tattle; but it will cost”.
The little bundle smiled, white teeth shining in the dim light. “No” he says with a chuckle; “no it will not; we offer you a one time gift, a unique gift along with our solemn promise to never breathe a word of where and from whom the gossip came.”
Centuries of Grytpype family fast, treacherous thinking came to my aid – “then it all seems it all depends on the gift then” I say.
From the inside pocket of what appeared to be a fur coat, a slightly battered brown paper packet was produced – no flourish – but clever sleight of hand (no Poker games with this lad I thought). I opened the package with some trepidation – and all my dreams came true in that moment – it was a hand made fur lined jock strap (Mink mind you) with a crochet, multi coloured cock sock. Just what I needed to keep my one eyed, wayward member warm through the Canberra winters.
“Well” says I – “I’ve spent a life long career looking after ‘one-eyed members’ perhaps it’s time to look after my own”.
So, the deal was done – “thank you GD” say’s I quite humble – “the gift was carefully thought through; I shall do my best to provide ‘first class gos’.
I’d spoken too late – I was standing alone in the dim garage light. I hurried home and tried it on – fit like a glove, although how they got the exact measurements is a thing perhaps I do not want to know. Time now to think about keeping up my end – not too difficult all things considered, a nice warm Willy and, the blithering idiot we have as ‘minister’ for the moment.
I am instructed to sign off thus:-
MTF - Sir HG-T.

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There - noblesse oblige - handing over... - -...  your turn.....

I think I’m going to like this bloke!

(03-08-2019, 12:49 PM)thorn bird Wrote:  Who cares?

Three little Faery tales, insignificant in themselves, but put together with hundreds of other tales make them very significant as they put a spotlight on the fetid pox that infects the Australian aviation industry.
Though not a virulent pox, its acts rather like HIV, slowly over decades breaking down resistance and weakening its host while it grows ever stronger and unassailable.

My first tale is of a gentleman who many years ago obtained a restricted Pilots licence. He had no ambition to enter the commercial field, neither did he want to travel. His home airfield and its joining training area was all he needed to enjoy his hobby, flying for him was a bit of fun, to be savoured and enjoyed on the six or so times a year he indulged himself.

Occasionally he'd take the missus or his kids for a ride or a friend. I had heard he was nothing flash in the skills department but was a very thorough and safe pilot.

All was good over a lot of years. Then he had a break from flying for whatever reason but decided to restart his hobby, so he booked for a biennial flight review with his local flying school.

Where it all came unstuck was he hadn't transferred his licence to a Part 61 licence. When his instructor looked at the dreaded MOS and the reg's it soon became apparent that this wasn't going to be just a biennial flight review. To recommence what he'd been doing for decades, under part 61 now required a raft of new courses and exams and "competencies" he'd never heard of, which were going to run him into hundreds if not thousands of dollars.

He decided he didn't like flying that much and I guess is looking for a new hobby.

How many thousands are there over the years who have come to the same decision? Bugger this its all too hard!

But nobody cares.

Not far from the entrance to Bankstown airport off Marion Street sits a tiny little brick building with a hanger next to it not much bigger than a garage. Been there for as long as I can remember, which is a long time. The gentleman (and he is a gentleman), who occupies this edifice is, now was, an overhauler and back in the day, a maker of propellers.
He's been declared by CAsA a "Not a fit and proper person" which effectively shuts down his business. Maybe it's an age thing that decided that, he is an octogenarian, or maybe he's been a naughty boy and forgot to put a tick in the right box on one of the thousands of forms that are now required to comply, easy enough to do especially for an old fella who was brought up to value workmanship over administration.

But it is sad to see a lifetime of experience just written off like that, there are a few people no wondering where to send their prop for overhaul.

All is not lost.

Our intrepid feisty octogenarian has put his middle finger up in CAsA's face and said F%CK you. He's moving his prop overhaul business to the Phillipines. So all you prop people out there don't despair, you'll soon have your props back being looked after by a man with decades of experience and skills. He'll be passing his knowledge on to Philippine kids  
and why not, it seems Australia doesn't want it. Another upside, Prop overhauls will probably be cheaper there without the mountains of paperwork required here.

There goes another Australian business offshore.

But nobody Cares

Been a bit of scuttlebutt about Emerald Airport allegedly closing an unsealed cross strip.

Seems like the New part 139 reg's require all runways to be sealed where RPT operates. Airport owner says can't afford that so, they are intending to close the cross strip. Bid safety benefit in that? Don't think so.

I had a think, I do occasionally, which begged a question.

Have the standards of RPT pilots degenerated to such an extent that they can no longer distinguish between a grass cross strip and the main runway? Na couldn't be.  There are rumours of one who had a go at a coal terminal, but they eventually worked it out, for the life of me I couldn't imagine a safety issue that cross strip would generate.

So on what Safety grounds "because safety is their imperative, did CAsA put that in their reg's?

I can think of a lot of Airports where RPT operate with unpaved cross strips. Will these have to be closed?

All passing strange

But who cares

Off an MH370 thread on UP.

SCPL_1988 from the USA seems to have an intimate knowledge of our regulator.
An exiled IOS member perhaps?

fdr and tdracer, Thanks for the common sense. The ping information and cell phone tower ping plus the radar , the height and track
information makes it clear that an O2 bottle failure is an improbable and does not add up.

While Dick has a point that its only 10 cents a fare its fails to deal with root cause of CASA's madness and corrupt structure.
The problem is a culture of stupidity and economic madness that makes
CASA one of the most hated Aviation Authorities in the world.

First they are political animals, hell bent on promoting and complicating their ever expanding extortion. The word Safety is a political statement not a reality.
They refer to themselves as "officers" when they are public servants.

One only has to read their documents to see how they have copied overseas documents, removed all the nouns, added many times the original number of words, destroyed the clear message of the original document and created a an unnecessarily complex set of rules that is designed to make aviation increasingly more expensive.

The cost of training in Australia is now about double the cost in the USA or Canada and that price difference is largely the result of CASA madness.

At the end of the day, its CASA who over burden the industry with
their propaganda that results in what must be one of the poorest value
for money from an Australian government department.

Scrapping CASA and copying the FAA would cut the cost of aviation dramatically.

file ref: HGT_1.


The crowd breathlessly awaits the unveiling of the McCormack 6G statue at Essendon Fields.

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Pigeons quite often ‘drop in’ for a look about – and I pay them very little mind; you can imagine my surprise when one of the things took to following me about, cheeky beggar I thought and what’s wrong with it’s leg? Seemed tame enough so I scooped it up, turned it upside down (they go to sleep) removed the small roll of paper from it’s leg, tipped it the right way up and let it go. Off it waddled, had a drink and departed. Strange start to a day which got more bizarre as it went along. On the paper was a telephone number and a ‘call-me’ message. Ring, Ring – “Hello” said a strained voice; “G’day” say’s I (sotto voce) thinking if this is one of GD’s pranks etc. “It’s Hercules Grytpype-Thynne here; I have information for the IOS”.

“K” – OK, hold while I grab a pencil and an off cut.

HGT (H) – “Whatever”.

“K” Go ahead.

It was one of the most excruciating long messages I’ve ever taken; and it was like pulling teeth from a stone idol. But eventually – I got it all down. Too much to transcribe, so, herewith the ‘potted’ version.

It seems our Hooded Canary was not tongue in cheek when he stated that the Essendon DFO was actually a life saver; for had the aircraft not hit the building – it would have hit the freeway. He’s been developing a master plan which he wants the minister to espouse. Now, it seems that the minister has a great interest in a taxi through fast food lane, radio your order ahead and pick it up as you taxi past; or for a small extra charge, one of the airside drones will deliver to the cabin door. This level of investment demands real safety; how to achieve it was the big question at the big meeting today. The Hooded Canary proposed that more DFO’s on runways were needed, to form a natural protective ring about our a aerodromes; to shield the incoming freeway traffic heading for the mega shopping complexes. The minister loved this idea so much, his advisor had to hold him up as he swooned away with delight – “brilliant” he whispered as the smelling salts were applied. (Apparently, he swoons a lot).

The minister warmed to the notion and thanked the 2IC ‘Safety’ boss profusely for solving the problem; but he had little time today to complete the transaction – his advisor was in a flap as there was an important safety demonstration to attend. The minister was to take advantage of a photo opportunity at one of the airport’s, many RFFS facilities and he was to climb a ladder up to the dizzying height of two metres. But which shoes to wear? What to wear, the Armani or the Tweed, then the hairstylist got involved, had a nervy turn about whether to make his hair look ‘windswept’ and rugged or just cosmopolitan ruffled – image is all, after all. Anyway, the RM Williams moleskins were packed away along with a blue Oxford button down collar shirt – tie or no tie (more discussion) and a near riot when the Akubra was ruled out. (BJ wears one, so a dilemma).

“All for naught” HGT said – it rained, and melting makeup and disappearing hair goop cannot be tolerated; so a short note of apology was sent off; saying that the minister was ‘genuinely’ sorry but pressing business of state called him to a higher duty. So, we all had the morning off while he went to poetry reading at some massage therapy clinic somewhere; don’t ask, only the driver knows.

I sent HGT a Tim Tam, was the least I could do for an entertaining half hour; along with my phone number – no more bloody pigeons I said. “Fine” said he “they’re a bugger to catch”

Here endeth the HGT missive.

Who has got the DMD (DPM McDo'Naught Dummy) on loan today? -   Rolleyes

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MTF? - Definitely...P2  Tongue Big Grin

OMG, seriously??

He looks like Beaker from the Muppets. Is he Dolan in disguise? He also looks like one of the chicks out of the show Laverne and Shirley!!

What an absolute tool.

From HGT:-

Via Willyleaks:-

To Aunt Pru – and so to me as duty night shift ‘moderate’.
Verbatim I do quote it (with nod to Banjo).

There was drama in the office for the word had got around
That the dummy down from Wagga was renting out his services – for less than half a pound.
The words you want, spoke just how you’d like
Just never ask the dummy to ever ride a bike.

Coordination ain’t his thing, in fact he’s bloody useless, unless attached – by a string.
But once you have him positioned; and, set up - all just right
He’s guaranteed to give you a ‘genuine’ ministerial sound bite
Unless you want the premium goods, which gets it all – just right.

Of course it all costs money, but given what he do, selling off old snake oil does profit you.
But, for an extra dollar you can rent fancy remote controls,  
From a fellah who do Hoodoo; which gives you full access through your selected holes.
The ‘box’ is really quite hi-tech But the public’s paying for the service - so what the Heck.

[Image: D1kfHzxU4AAu511.png]

The  HGT ‘word’ is the new dummy control box is really quite sophisticated, looks like a smart phone. You can pre program the ‘statements’ you want made; then, from the back of the room key in the right number and the ‘dummy’ will say exactly what it is supposed to say – on cue – on time – every time. Of course the ‘advisor’ on matters aeronautical is having a hissy fit – he needs his dummy to spout the Book of St. Comodey’s vision. He was outbid three times today and is highly ‘unhappy’ that 'his'  minister is too  busy doing the bidding of the highest bidder and can’t come out to play in the St. Comodey sandpit and support his efforts to be seen as a world leading authority on matters of aviation safety. We must thank the psychic powers of ‘He who has lost his marbles’ to accurately predict that the 737 is a lethal weapon. St. Comodey couldn't tell a 737 from fire mans ladder if it jumped up and bit him on his fat, plush arse.  

Well, there you have it – the latest fractured fairy tale from GD’s second best mate; HGT. Seems he’ over pigeons and we now use ‘normal’ communications. But - I too would like to know how GD got the measurements for that fur lined jock strap – HGT asked again………….

Right; where are my darts – IOS v BRB Derby tonight. Best out of three matches – 1 a piece so far. Check list – Cigar; Pint; Darts = good to go.

But, where did you get that hat? (FDS)…….

I was going to save this until morning – however. Now that HG-T has tipped us off; much becomes clear. The gent stood behind the minuscule in today’s ministerial photo- op obviously could not afford the Hi-tech gear and once again, the operator is standing behind the dummy, his left hand manipulating ‘the controls’. I could be wrong – but St. Comodey appeared to have his left hand in a similar position – it looks, for all money, as if the control panel is mounted on the dummy’s left buttock. Which would make sense to those who are renting out the hi-tech gear; seriously; push a key pad or squeeze a ministerial buttock, no brainer – unless you enjoy that sort of thing – each to his/ her own..

The Hi-Viz is clearly Hoody’s, no doubt a gift to keep the minister safe and warm. You can tell it’s Hoody’s there’s a safety loop on the back of it, so as not to tire your arm whilst using the buttock squeeze system. Gods alone know where that tie came from; not that it matters, but you have to wonder, given the mess made of both collar and tie- do they let him do up his own bootlaces? I’m betting not – a fall would expose the ’controls’ and we can’t haver that can we children.

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But the ‘hat’ slays me; still chuckling, made me smile all day. I’d rather eat dirt than have my picture taken looking like that. This is the deputy Prime Minister of Australia, the man who would lead this nation through war, pestilence, famine, fire and the next ‘recession’ FDS.

Never thought much of Chester; but I rather think I wouldn’t mind too much seeing him back – at least he always at least looked the part and; more importantly – like a fully functioning human unit.

Oh Balmy-Baby! what you and your blessed Wlly have cost this nation.

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Do try to remember your Kipling.“A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke."

It is; truly, a much deeper thought than it seems at face value.

Toot- toot.

Does he have a point? – MTF.

Why am I surprised? HGT comes from along line of crafty finaglers; who have, with some success, learnt to work any system to their own advantage. Like the internet; through some very clever use of system, HGT has found a way to contact Aunt Pru – direct. “Handing over” was the succinct message I received from AP – and ‘sort it”.  “Yes Ma’am” I replied (Ham not Harm).

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Linkedin - A sleazy, well-educated and scheming cad. He generally collaborates with Count Moriarty to swindle Ned Seagoon. Catchphrases include "You silly twisted boy" and "Have a gorilla".

HGT began by confessing a decided weakness for Tim Tam’s (hint) and declares that his fondness for ‘em has motivated his endeavours. He has suggested a time saving plan which, I have to say, has real merit. He suggests the following:-

a) Why write ‘new’ stuff? With a little word magic, to change the names and date of the topic – the stuff you have already posted could be ‘re-cycled’. So little has changed in the last decade you could simply rework the old and pass it off as new. It would still be valid. We do it in Canberra with great success and it allows time ‘off the job’ to deal with important matters, such as lunch, my dinner engagements and of course golf, parties, flex days and essential health club visits, which keep me in trim for Wednesday afternoon executive stress relief. All paid for by the mutts working 9 – 5 with a 90 minute commute each way. Seriously; you got to get with the programme Old Boy.

Cheeky beggar – but – he’s right you know. There is more than one way to skin a cat. His way does not sit well with me; but then, I’d rather be at work than almost anywhere else. But; I’m definitely old school and set in my ways now – why not; they’ve served me well these many long years. I will however put the proposal to the IOS – see what they reckon to it. The refrigerator is in need of my attention – best go see what I can do to relive it’s burden.

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P2 - Nice touch i.e the Aussie flags stuck in the DPM dummy’s back…. Big Grin


Nice touch i.e the Aussie flags stuck in the DPM dummy’s back….

I’m amazed there is any storage space left in his back passage considering the amount of CAsA puppet hands stuck up there along with many eager tongues.

Once a muppet always a muppet

This should tickle you're Sunday morning fancy.

From Zanthrus off UP.

A little something I ran across today. Very apt description of CASA.

Oxford University researchers have discovered the densest element yet known to science.
The new element, Governmentium (symbol=Gv), has one neutron, 25 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons and 198 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.

These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called pillocks.

Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert. However, it can be detected, because it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact.

A tiny amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction that would normally take less than a second, to take from 4 days to 4 years to complete.

Governmentium has a normal half-life of 2 to 6 years.

It does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganisation in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places.

In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganisation will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes.

This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a critical concentration

This hypothetical quantity is referred to as a critical morass.

When catalysed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium (symbol=Ad), an element that radiates just as much energy as Governmentium, since it has half as many pillocks but twice as many morons.

CASA can suck donkey balls!

P9 - Choc Frog to Z.

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