CHAPTER 25: THE BLOWING UP OF IRELAND (PART FOUR)Continued from Part 3 of this Chapter.
However - as sure as God, hadn't the fuel tank only been practically shot out from under the engines? Unbeknownst to me, just as Ireland had exploded, a shcrapeen of aul granite from a yellow rood of rock had shtruck the petrol tank, and it had been leaking ever since.
As I saw Liverpool in the distance, the plane began to splutter, lose altitude and make spurts and stutters and sputters and gasps.
This is how the plane ought to have looked when I touched down:
However, in the unfortunate event, I got on the wireless quick to Auric Lennon International Airport. If you're wondering who Auric is, it was John Lennon's greatgrandfather - you'll have to remember that this is still around 1923, and it only became John Lennon International Airport many years later.
I put the mouthpiece to my lips and I said:
"Auric Lennon International Airport, this is Paddy Flanagan here, and you're listening to the Paddy Flanagan Hour." To be honest with you, I only said that coz I was operating on automatic at this stage.
"Hello Paddy Flanagan. This is Alpha Lima Indigo Alpha."
"I'm out over the Irish Sea or the Indigo Sierra, Alpha Lima Indigo Alpha. Please direct to the nearest road or field of leeks in the Wales Merseyside general area - I'm running out of cooking oil. Over."
"Can you touch the Green Green Grass of Home?"
"O-kayyyy. Can you land on the beach?"
"Can you land at Teterboro?"
"We'll be in the Hudson."
"Sorry, I meant the Irish Sea."
With that, I clipped off my harness with a clip-clop sound, just as the plane smashed into the waters, in the hope that it would free me up to get out and swim.
Continued in Chapter 26 Part 1.