Lufthansa

Salty Slivers, London's first Professional Drinking Facilitator back when it still counted, rushed into The Sun in Splendour one evening after work, sat down, lit a cigaret and drew carefully on the pre-delivered gin and tonic. Bo Stenberg, a student of aviation in order to avoid it, was there.


“Well I finally found out what it means,” she told him.

“What.”

“Lufthansa. You wanted to know what it meant.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. I found out. Chap at work told me what it means. It’s an acronym.”

“No it isn’t.”

“'Tis.”

They drank and smoked quietly for a few minutes.

Then Stenberg couldn’t take it anymore.

“Well then, what’s it mean?”

“I’m not saying.”

“I’ll buy you another drink.”

“Well if you must know,” she said.

“LUFTHANSA—Let Us Fuck The Hostess And Not Say Anything.”