London Calling

The intrepid photographer of labored pictorial clichés for the BBC was assigned to cover Southern California's wildfires.

He badly needed preconceived images of the heroic yet naive work the firefighters were doing as they battled the blazes.

When the photographer arrived on the scene, he realized that the smoke was so thick it would be a serious obstacle to his getting 'good' photographs from the ground level.

So he requested permission from his boss at Bush House to rent a plane and take photos from the air. His request was approved and he used his cell phone to call the local county airport to charter a flight. He was told the single engine plane would be waiting for him at the airport.

Arriving at the airfield, he spotted a plane warming up outside a hanger.

He jumped in with his bag, slammed the door shut and shouted, "Right. Let's go!"

The pilot taxied out, swung the plane into the wind and roared down the runway.

Once in the air, the photographer instructed the pilot, "Fly over the valley, luv, and make two or three low passes so I can get some shots of the fireworks on the hillsides!"

"What for?" asked the pilot.

"Because I'm the photographer for the bloody BBC," responded the shutterbug testily, "and I need to get fekking close-ups, don't I!"

The pilot took this in for a few seconds.

"So what you're telling me is--you're not the flight instructor?"