The secret to keeping it up...

For rather longer than a possum can remember, Airbourne pilots have been world renowned in their exceptional ability at keeping it up in 'the rough stuff.' The Old Lizard let things slip recently when two viagra pills were found taped to an (as yet) anonymous Climax upright. Is this drug abuse or just a sign of an aging pilot? Who knows, but it would appear that the new REV will have a slightly modified upright to accommodate up to 3 pills. This intelligence was confirmed by one of the (Les) Bestt sources we could find!

Cuckoo clock needs winding up!

As pilots make their way halfway round the world to fly, many discover that jetlag is a funny old thing. Swiss Nick, a past (and he would argue, current) master of world travel, swiftly nodded off after rehydrating. His friends were very impressed with his capacity for 'oral therapy' but still had to finish off the bottle for him. After all, thats what friends are for... but doesn't he look sweet!

New Wills Wing prototype

I'm not sure whether to applaud Wills Wing's efforts to kit-out their pilots with the very latest gear and gadgetry  in an effort to give them the best fighting chance of winning, or to shake my head in dispare at their latest spectacular own goal!

Wills have provided their lads with the very latest, cutting edge technology in outback survival gear (see photo) in case any unlucky pilot should bomb out before reaching goal but it's clear that they really, really haven't thought this one through fully, for before any of the antipodean comps have even begun it seems that the handy bottle-opener attachment in this pocket armoury has been getting the most exercise! Sources report that a number of pilots have been suffering severe headaches after flying thanks to this bit of hi-viz kit! The Wills Wing tech guys are looking into the problem and are confident that they will have it sorted before the big guns get to fly with them!

Ice Maiden from the North

As everyone knows, every winning team has a strong guiding hand behind the scenes, managing and organising, pep-talking and teasing the best out of its pilots on the front-line. So much for Ireland's team chances in Oz with me stuck at home in the Emerald Icicle - what will my pilots do without me?!

Not so for the lucky lads from Finland who fielded Virpi, their latest entry into the 'new hot-shot' pilot's club. The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world, and Virpi was recently caught exercising her formidable management skills as she ran her new team of batten bucks through their paces. Within minutes of ariving at a pleasant coastal site, Virpi was seen cracking the whip and marshalling her team of assistants in proper order. The question is, will they harden up enough for the heat, dust and snakes of the Australian bush?

The Langer goes Down Under!

Although your Editor-in-Chief couldn't quite scrape together enough clams to afford to join the great southern migration of hangies to Oz this year (truth be told, I couldn't find any magnetic boots in the shops either, to stop me falling off the that part of the world while I'm standing upside-down!) and so it is that I find myself sad and alone on the Langer Report HQ Newsroom couch (scene of so many 'confidential kiss-and-tells'), pumping my electronic sources for stories from overseas and sunnier climes, while outside the cold wind howls and rattles the window panes as we endure the latest chapter in our Siberian winter... burrr! And so, from my frosty northern hemispherical roost I can but watch the continuing antics of our much beloved (and hopefully indescrete) Flying Circus Top Guns as they battle to be first to get it up in the Aussie thermals before the next guy takes them from behind!

For anyone not familliar with the Antipodes I offer this handy map of Oz that you can cut out and keep as a treasured souvineer:

A more contemporary map can be found below...


View Larger Map

S'funny, I always thought it was bigger.

With this invaluable geography lesson out of the way we can now apply ourselves to the slow trickle of dirt (I mean, edifying and illuminating stories of airial heroics and derring-do) that is already starting to seep out of Camp Forbes. I trust this trickle of news will soon develop into a steady, if not gushing torrent of 'good stuff' in the capable hands of Langer Report's growing pay-roll of 'foreign corrospondents' and spies..!... so start spilling the beans, guys, and remember, a picture is much harder to deny than a thousand words - snap, snap, wink, wink, say no more!

More Psychological Warfare...

Calculated to distract!

There's more than one way to distract a pilot from the serious business of winning a comp... Sometimes it can be very 'hard' to concentrate on the daily task briefing...

Zhenya has a lot to answer for!

Don't Hassel The Hoff!

The Hoff: as we remember him!

The Dutch Open saw the arrival of an unexpected surprise guest Competition Director - none other than David Hasselhoff! It seems that The Hoff (moonlighting as Dutch Top Gun, Harm Darwinkel), tired of the interminable auditioning for American Pop Idol decided to take some time out from dashing the hopes of countless, talentless American wannabees, to come to Sigillo and M.C. the Dutch Open at Monte Cucco.

It's amazing the to see just how well a little (or indeed, a lot) of stage make-up can disguise the ravages of time on your favourite screen idols when seen up close in the flesh... sans war-paint! As I'm sure you'll agree, time really hasn't been kind to The Hoff since we first saw him on our screens in Knight Rider and later in Babe Watch (buff that muff... I dive at dawn!) I bet neither Kitt's CPU nor Pamela Anderson's silicone boobs have weathered quite as badly! Judge for yourself...

...and now: ravaged by time and parachuted in to judge "Dutch Idol"

Kitt & Pamela Anderson's boobs - still looking good after all those years!

Hedging their bets

Budget Travel: France's Hedge Pilots

International fly-by-nights, the French team have been forced to swap their traditional pastime of bed-hopping for hedge-hopping. Following major cutbacks we can now confirm that times are hard in the French camp. In fact, long gone are the luxury hotels, evening massages and a team doctor to prescribe whatever a pilot fancied. Indeed it seems that the increasingly stingy FFVL won't even cough up enough clams to park the pride of their nation in an official camp-site for the night - and the French have now been caught camping in the hedgerows.

This was the scene for Ager, though having recently spoken to the French team leader he was rather pleased at the result - two pilots winning a task in the Europeans, one coming second and some third places.

Treat them mean, keep them keen...

Thanks to my spy in the French camp for this (the pints are on me, Shaun!)

Psycological Warefare

The English: Innate respect for all things foreign and cultural
Shedsie anoints the history of Gubbio

As any seasoned comp pilot will tell you, the battle for supremacy in the air is fought not in the air, but in the mind. Psychology (maintaining a positive mental attitude even in the face of insurmountable adversity... like when you're at the arse-end of the field, can't see the lead gaggle for dust, and find yourself bombing out in the unlandable boonies), psychology is key to winning the day... or at least fooling yourself that you couldn't have done any worse!

Where is all this leading, you may well ask?

Shedsie thanks his German friend for
"rearranging all the buildings in London during the war!"

Well, there's a flip-side to the coin also... While maintaining a positive mental attitude is indeed key to personal success, the experienced comp pilot will engage his devious mind and employ raw cunning and strategy to achieve his goal (which for most of us is to do slightly less badly than the next guy.) Chief amongst his arsenel of psycho-weaponry is the tried and tested tactic of Psychological Warefare. If one can reduce one's opponent to a quivering bundle of nervous self-doubt before he even takes off, then the battle is already half one. All you have to do then is to bomb out ever so slightly further along the course line to vanquish your foe. Simple!

In a completely un-planned, random encounter on the north launch at Monte Cucco, our Langer Report camera-man was lucky enough to witness this tactic being deployed to devistating effect at the Pre-Worlds by Britain's fastest rising star when, without a second's hesitation, and drawing upon his in-depth knowledge of his nation's pride and glorious history, Shedsie went toe-to-toe with England's old arch-nemisis... The Hun. By the end of the encounter it is clear that the steely facade of German self confidence (sporting a tanned, ripped bare chest, a finely chisseled tutonic jaw and a pair of uber-cool shades - all calculated to intimidate) had taken something of a battering. After this bruising encounter it was clear that the only place that Barron von Cool-Shades was going was down, on a guilt trip to the bomb out field!

You have to admire the Brits for their indefatigable nerve... and the Germans for their uncharacteristic restraint! 

RAF: 1 - Luftwaffe: 0

Open University course: British History 101

The English 'Stiff Upper Lip'

A lesbian maid of Khartoum
Took a nancyboy up to her room.
As she turned out the light, she said:
"Lets get things right. Who does what, and with which, and to whom?!" 

Tony Stephens: "Take a walk on the wild side!"

On a recent stop-over in Thailand, British Open Champion, Tony Stephens (no doubt aided and abetted by less scrupulous 'elements') decided to sample the delights of Bangkok and see what exotic thrills were to be had during a night out on the town.  Like kids in a candy store, Tony and his mates trawled the streets of Sin City, crawling from bar to bar and slowly getting drunker and drunker... their resistance getting weaker and weaker... until finally their inhibitions seemed to evaporate into the warm, scented night air (or possibly it was the drugs!)

Having spent the early part of the evening getting a few beers on board (a lad needs a little Dutch Courage before giving in to the inevitable... even if 'the inevitable' is forcing it's tongue down his throat... or so I'm told!) and fighting off hoards of sexy, rice powered LBFMs, Tony and his mates turned on the English charm, and soon everyone in the party had one or more 'me so horny' babes all over them.

Tony's little hotty, a lithe, tanned wet-dream in anyone's book, had a curious curl at the corner of her smile as she eyed up her latest trick. "I know what you want" she whispered in Tony's glowing ear, "but I'm not what you think I am!" Fuck me, thought Tony, I'm going to need CPR by the end of the night, this one looks like she could suck the chrome off a tow-hitch! Switching on the old 'Stephens' charm' Tony gets up, puts his arm around his victim, knocks off the last of his pint and says "Right love, lets go - you've pulled! I want you to do unimaginable things to me... all night... until I pass out!" "Ok, lover boy" she purred in a husky, steamy voice, dripping with promise, "but I'm not what you think I am!!" and grabbing Tony's free hand, slides it down the front of her jeans. Heads turned as Tony's empty pint glass slipped from his grasp and smashed on the floor, puzzled to see a look of stunned shock on his face, followed by a 'what the fuck do I do now?' expression.

We'll spare Tony any further blushes and won't reveal what happened next, or how he handled the six inch dilemma he was now holding in his hot, sweaty mitt... suffice it to say that boys will be boys... and ladyboys will be ladyboys!!

Thanks to Wayne Thompson, Tony's (ex)best mate for this little pearl!

We no speak Italiano!

Party animals: Rob Groen, Camo and Phil

Karaoki night at the Monte Cucco Hang Gliding Centre (run for your lives... run quite fast...!) saw some interesting (and some really painful) performances by pilots in various states of inebriation (thank God for beer - it makes us sing badly... and sound great!)

Aussie pilot, Camo Tunbridge, clearly taken by one particular rendition went up to the DJ to enquire the name of the song:
Camo: "What's the name of this song, mate?"
DJ: "We no speak Americano!"
Camo, not quite twigging it, tries again: "What-is-the-name-of-this-song-mate?" doing his best to speak slowly and clearly to the local icecreamio spinning the disks...
DJ, throwing his eyes up to heaven: "We-no-speak-Ameri-cano!"
Camo: "Aw don't come the raw prawn with me, mate, I know you speako some English - so what's the bloody song called...?"
DJ holds up the CD for Camo to read the lable... and the penny finally drops... leaving Camo to retreat back into the crowd with a sheepish grin on his face!

Great video, by the way!

Do Not Disturb!

This seemingly innocent photo of a pair of trainers outside one of the bedroom doors at the Monte Cucco Free Flight Centre during the Pre-Worlds is in fact a secret signal to the Brazilian team, who share the room, not to enter while certain 'nocturnal manoeuvres in the dark' are taking place! Closer inspection (while listening at the door with a bunch of similarly drunken, giggling pilots) revealed Alex Trivelato's name tag sewn inside the shoes! Rock on Alex!

Thanks to Camo (sleeping in the room opposite) for this intel!

Back to civilization...

After something of a false start on 'the return of the blog', I am finally back home and wired up again to a reliable internet connection. The sleepy town of Sigillo, lost in the wilds of the Umbrian mountains are at the wrong end of an unpaved cart track when it comes to the Information Super Highway (the inter-web thingy that we all love, adore and have come to rely on for our daily dose of porn (come on, be honest now!)) Try as I might, I could not find a reliable connection anywhere in the town, and others reported that you'd be quicker using semaphore than trying the rather over-priced local mobile broadband provider. Internet technology in Italy (well, this part of it anyway) shares something in common with the buildings and architecture... it's ancient and crumbling. Either that, or it's been hijacked by the Mafia!

Anyway, I digress... normality is restored... and all those pent up stories that piled up over the Pre-Worlds and the Dutch Open will finally start to see the light of day...

Hang Gliding terms for non comp pilots

Nose-in: The opening manoeuvre when indulging in cunnilingus! 
Wind Dummy: Someone who does a Nose-In at precisely the wrong moment!! 
Scorer / Good Scorer: The pilot who manages to score a home run with the highest number of batten bunnies during a comp (see Johnny Durand.) 
GAP System: a love triangle. 
Dutch Open: (see Hadewych van Kempen!) 
Speed Bar: A speed-dating joint where pilots can find beer and 'ladies of negotiable affection.' 
Giggle: This is a small gaggle of gliders in a very big thermal. 
Gaggle: The sound a hangie makes when trying to laugh and perform oral sex simultaneously! 
Final Glide: The final push a hangie has to make to come in goal! 
Bomb Out: An Irishman's retribution on a pub or bar after being served a bad pint. 
Tip Stall: Erectile disfunction after drinking too many bad pints. 
Reserve: A back-up condom. 
Competitors: All the other randy bastards trying to pull your date away from you. 
Retrieve: A two-fingered fishing expedition after your condom goes missing in action! 
Team Spirit: Strong drink, of any description. 
Briefing: Telling your latest 'girlfriend' what you'd like to do to her. 
Debriefing: Removing the under-garments of your latest pull. 
Track-Log: Blogging to the world about all your latest conquests (see Johnny Durand.) 
DHV: A mind-altering drug that ought to be banned. 
Whack: Preemo Dutch Weed. 
Climax: An excellent wing made by Airborne - ha, got you there! 
Airborne Climax: Jerking-off at cloudbase while you wait for the rest of the gaggle to climb up to you! 
Morning Glory: A daily, God-sent blessing that prevents you rolling out of bed in the morning... not the roll cloud found in the Gulf of Carpentaria. 
EN69: The European Standard for Safe Sex (see also EN966 for purple helmets.) 
Push: A tactic applied to the the pilot in the front of the launch line by the pilot coming up his rear. 
Successful Landing: Any landing where all the wreckage is spread out in a straight line across the LZ. 
Over the Back: Doing it Doggie style. 
Indefinitely: When your balls are smacking off her arse, you're in... definitely!

I can't claim sole credit for the above glossary (well, not entirely!) as it was a joint effort by the members of Team Chicken Wings under the influence of a lot of beer! Please feel free to email me the definitions of any new hang gliding terms you can think of!
langer.report@gmail.com

Wills Wing Bondage Harness

Dustin Martin let slip that all new Wills Wing harnesses, that have just gone into production, are shipped with a selection of gay porn hidden somewhere inside. He also hinted that more main-stream pornographic material was laminated into the custom made carbon fibre back plates.

We are asking all new owners of Wills' harnesses to take a close look at their new purchases and confirm this for us and email your discoveries to langer.report@gmail.com with anything you find!

Although it's very thoughtful of Wills to include a selection of 'gentleman's' reading material in every new harness, we're a little surprised that anyone flying these stream-lined works of art could ever possibly bomb out and have enough time on their hands to make use of it while they awaited retrieve - I thought they'd all be landing at goal!

Email The Langer Report

The Langer Report has a new email address to help you file all those important stories that are floating around out there. So please email in (relative) confidence to:

Langer.Report@gmail.com

and spill the beans on the grubbier side of international hang gliding!

Sperm Theory

Jam(ie) sandwich

Naughty Lawyer, Jamie Sheldon, lived up to her name and reputation recently when one of my numerous spies caught her indulging in a little threesome action with Carl Wallbanger and Rubber Johnny Durand - resurrecting a theory that has been doing the rounds for the past couple of years...

Runway Bride

Les Best: The Pride of Oz!

Big Aussie pilot, Les Best (Lez-B to his friends) had to radio for emergency clearance to bomb out in the airfield below Monte Cucco after a humiliatingly short sled ride. After scattering the pigeons on 'Runway 69', Les ingratiated himself in true Aussie style and got invited to a wedding being held in one of the hangers!

Sadly, Les had to pull out early, leaving both bridesmaids and barmaids in tears when his retrieve arrived.

Surprise sprog measuring on launch

Organisers sprang a surprise check on birthday boy Manfred's equipment and very surprisingly found that his sprog (singular) was unusually high rather than low! I can't imagine why!!

Thanks to Israel Andradas for bringing this incident to light :-)

Outed!

Former 'confirmed hetro', Swiss Nick (a.k.a. the Italian Stallion) has been outed as being a closet rent-boy. Roberto insists that he has only been renting out gliders... but rumours persist...

You haven't lived...

Amongst the other fireside stories that surfaced the other evening at the less than spectacular Rio Verde camp site outside Sigillo was one little indiscretion from the alcohol-loosened tongue of top British hopeful, Wayne Thompson. While discussing the more important aspects of international comp flying, Wayne dismissed the not inconsiderable collective experience and wisdom of those pilots assembled when he topped all the other stories of the night (mostly bullshit, anyway) by coming out with... "You really haven't lived until you've shagged a fat girl."

A guilty silence of quiet respect followed as we contemplated this truth... and drank more beer...

Shaun contemplates the unthinkable...

Poultry in Motion

Following the departure of The Langer Report's former fantasy frolic and everyone's favourite slut, Nurse Annecy Spank, after she absconded with Jeff O'Brien's green quacky-duck, Wasabi (see earlier posts) we have been adopted by Pirate Captain Pukkaud (alias "Choke, the Chicken") terror turkey of the Seven Seas. Far from being merely a sexy figurehead for the blog, Choke the Chicken actually fulfils a real-life practical role in the ranks of Team Chicken-Wings - viz... we've tied the turkey to the front of the team's battle bus to double as a hooter (our own car's horn is a bit temperamental) The problem is... after choking the chicken every day for the last week or more, Choke needs a little mouth-to-beak resuscitation to re-inflate him after a long squwak!

The Blog is Back!

By extraordinarily popular, international demand (and I'm talking seriously wierd and kinky popular demand - you cats (and you all know who you are... you're reading this!) are a genuine bunch of wierdoes if this is the most educational, or informative blog you keep coming back to time and time again! (I may not have written anything for the past twelve months or more, but this blog is still receiving over 80 *new* readers every day according to ClusterMap.) But hey - it's great to have all you crazy cats on board again.

As ever, I am totally depending on *YOU*, the dregs of the free-flying underworld, to supply me with the very latest scandals, rumours, innuendo, compromising photos and utter bullshit to fill these pages and sate your general lust for all those tittelating tit-bits of gossip that would otherwise simply be whispered in hushed circles and not benefit from the oxygen of true international publicity that my 'organ' can provide! In short... spill the beans, compadres!