The life of a Spitfire pilot - a few beers down the local, then back into the cockpit to meet and greet uninvited guests.
Rather like my life in a way, but with added Spitfires.
I was sitting in a pub in St. Ives last summer, sipping 'Spitfire' ale with an invited German guest of mine, and I noticed that - being the Battle of Britain year - his glass had marks engraved down one side at various levels, and they read:
We laughed (wryly), and he told me what an old BMW wartime motorcycle sounds like as you kick-start the engine:
Hitler... Hitler... Hitler! Goebbels Goebbels Goebbels Goebbels - Goering! Goering!
The old ones are the best, eh?