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Leaving on a #@$%$#*&@# jetplane ...

Don't know about you guys, but for me flying is a pain in the backside and surviving a long-haul trip cooped up in cattle class takes a great deal of planning.

Firstly, you must have enough provisions to keep from starving during your journey. Now that is not to say airline food is inedible, far from it, but there is never enough - particularly for a ravenous old goat who must be going through a growth spurt. So pack some munchies.

Secondly, ensure you have a bottle of water on hand to get you through the moments when the hostie doesn't seem to be answering your 16th call for a Gin & Tonic.

Thirdly, and this is connected to No.2, get on well with the cabin staff. Smile, be polite, talk about your great-great-great gandkids, comment on how nice they look - the stewards really like that one - and that way you are guaranteed enough drink to get through.

Fourthly, get on with your neighbouring passengers. This can be difficult if you are forced to sit next to a Frenchwoman who reeks of cigarette smoke, or a Michelin-man type whose rolls of excess tonnes sort of droop into your seating area. In cases like this you have to smile and ask Blobbo if he would mind not expanding into your already-tiny-enough seat.

Now this last point is particularly important if you happen to be sitting next to someone like Courteney Love - famous widow, singer, actress and terroriser of air crews.

Potty-Mouth Love, as her daughter calls her, is a fiesty gal and I was quite pleased to be sitting next to her the other day.

Mind you, our relationship didn't get off to a good start as when I smiled and said hello she began with a "don't you ask for my ****** autograph you ******** old *******!"

"Actually Ms Love ..." I tried to respond.

"Don't you ******** call me ******* Love you ******** **********!"

"But isn't it your name?"

"So the ******* ******** ******* ********* ********* what you ********."

Hmmmmm, I thought we may need to try a new tack here.

"Er, before you abuse me again ... how's Kurt?"

She stopped as if she'd been shot. The snarl turned to feral-fangedness and the blows started to fall around my noodle.

A hostie arrived to break it up and so to make life more difficult for old Courtney I used my little-publicised skills of ventriloquism and mimicry to tell her to "******* off ********* you ******** tart" using Potty Mouth's voice.

It worked a treat and old Courtney got grabbed, carted off and I was able to settle back in peace - safe in the knowledge that people wouldn't expect an old codger like me to use words like that. Tee hee.

If there is something that has really got up your nose, let Grumpy Old Coot know at grumpy@webwombat.com