I originally started writing this blog under the pseudonym of Captain Bloggs - a kind of nom de blogues - in order to keep my employer of my back. I also wanted to keep my identity hidden to protect the guilty, the foolish and the embarrassed who might identify their squalid lives among the tales I would recount here on this website. I also wish to prolong my enviable career making dreams come true for thousands of Spanish bar owners who salivate at the sight of drunken Brits waddling towards their otherwise impoverished bars.

All the implausible, preposterous and outrageous stories featured in this blog are true accounts. This is what happens when you mix highly trained professionals with expensive machinery, then add a sprinkling of young attractive ladies. It's the grown up equivalent (and I urge caution with that phrase) of pulling wheelies on your BMX bike outside Claire's Accessories on a Saturday afternoon: you could easily look a twat, but still not get to play with one.

Unlike most blogs, this one will not be in any strict chronological order; it would be far too easy to rumble Captain Bloggs's identity, but the events recounted most definitely happened. And on this, you have the word of a professional, responsible, conscientious, respected, passport application signing, impeccably presented, perennially sober, highly educated pillar of the community: your commercial airline captain.