An airliner is coming into Prestwick but just before it gets anywhere near, the weather goes foul. Thunderbolts rend the air and turbulence is all around.
The pilot sweats his way through one battering then another, with skill, determination and no little bravery he succeeds in getting the plane, albeit rather bumpily, onto terra firma.
He decides to take his shot at a little glory and stands at the door as the grateful passengers, shaking from head to foot, but nonetheless impressed with their captain’s skills, descend the steps onto the tarmac.
Well, all except one wee Gorbals wummin who looks him in the eye and asks if he’ll satisfy her curiosity on a point:
“Hey big man, did we land or were we shot down?”