Ah, Snail, I sympathise. For a while, when I lived at Yarrowyck, I would have a similar experience every couple of months. The rural peace would be destroyed as the air would be literally torn apart as an FA 18 would scream past at just below Mach 1 and just above the 500' minimum height; five minutes later another would do the same trick. It was usually RAAF Amberley practising sneaking up on RAAF Sale (or vice versa; substitute Base names for any inaccuracies) but I was advised how to dissuade them.

Get the sort of steel pan (~1 metre square and 20cm deep) used to train people how to use fire extinguishers and put it out in the paddock half filled with a mix of aluminium and magnesium powders. Use a fuse or spark to set it off when one of the planes goes overhead. My advisor reassured me that the flash ignition gives off the same infra-red signal as the launch of a ground-to-air missile, resulting in the cockpit alarms going off with all sorts of automated evasion manouvres. No infringements of the radio frequency spectrum legislation and, providing it isn't a day of total fire ban, perfectly legal. The notion was that the pilots would get so tired of having to put in extra work they'd go strafe kangaroos somewhere else. I never got around to trying it before I left that residence and I'll bet JohninKansas will give us the good oil on such tactics. But just contemplating it brightened the mood no end.

Enough of thread drift; back to Liz' tits.

Cheers, Rowan