Victor Bombers
Back in the 1960s, my father worked at Handley Page, designing and engineering bits of Victor bomber aircraft. For those of you unfamiliar with them, they’re slightly larger than your common or garden twin engine Airbus, but unlike an Airbus they can exceed the speed of sound in a dive and were built to obliterate large bits of the Soviet Union.

One sunny April morning, he was invited along for a ride in a brand new Victor which had just rolled out of the factory, prior to it being handed over to the RAF. No-one in their right mind would pass up the opportunity of being chauffeur driven at low level over Hertfordshire and Essex in a four-engined weapon of mass destruction (if only to open the bomb-bay doors over Harlow and let your imagination run riot for a minute) so he understandably jumped at the chance.

The big plane thundered off into the sky and was put through its paces. The flight went without a hitch, so the big bomber was returned to Radlett Airfield and was subsequently delivered to Biggles and his chums, just after my dad left the plane wide eyed and grinning.

Worryingly, a few months later however, the company received a phone call from an RAF depot on the other side of the world. Apparently all wasn’t well with the Victor in question and a couple of issues had been identified during routine maintenance.

Firstly, a section of wiring in the wing fuel tank hadn’t been completed and it was a miracle that the plane hadn’t succumbed to the dodgy electrics and simply blown itself to smithereens at any time.

Secondly, from within the same fuel tank, RAF technicians retrieved a three-legged wooden stool.

A subsequent investigation discovered that the bloke who assembled the wiring in the wing used to not unreasonably sit on a wooden stool while he worked. While working on this particular jet, he’d buggered off for his mid-afternoon tea break with the job half done but by the time he returned, the fuel tank was sealed and that was that. I never did find out what happened to the engineer in question, but it’s reasonable to assume that he didn’t work in the aviation industry for much longer.

As for Victors in general, none of the eighty six of them built was ever used to drop anything remotely dangerous in anger. Aside from the occasional terror to its crews, Victor bombers have probably caused less anguish and misery to the population at large than a single Ryanair Airbus does on a daily basis.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 30 Sep 2011, 14:59, 5 replies)

I work in the HV electrical industry
And several time the tops have been removed from transformers and stools and wooden step ladders are found in the winding tanks. Same reasons I suppose ,years ago when they were being built,some old duffer needed to sit down whilst shellacing some windings or something ,finishes up and the 5 ton lid gets craned on and tightened down..anything left inside is staying inside.
( bane, Fri 30 Sep 2011, 15:06, closed)

I love the idea of random shit ending up in important engineering 'things'
Awesome.
(SpangoTheWonderBadger is brewing beer, Fri 30 Sep 2011, 16:48, closed)

Handley Page's crescent-winged death machine may not have been the most glamorous of the v force (damned vulcan slut whore), and the fact that only the pilots had ejector seats was a bit anti-social; but it made a damned fine tanker, without which the aforementioned delta dart-esque tarts wouldn't have been able to bomb Port Stanley's airfield so splendidly during the Falklands war...not bad for something built in a shed near Luton...!
(yellowperil Is shirking from home, Fri 30 Sep 2011, 21:27, closed)

Surely the crap gadget
was the Vickers Valiant? Only a few years' service before metal fatigue rendered them all undefuckable. All three were beautiful machines, though.
( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Fri 30 Sep 2011, 23:15, closed)

Which explains the entry in the RAF procurement list:
Stools: wooden-headed sergeants'
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Sun 2 Oct 2011, 10:24, closed)