London bound and gagging\\ On the tarmac in Zagreb\\ With a planeload of Cliff Richard fans\\ And no room for my legs\\ Staring at the ceiling\\ Playing with the air\\ With an over bearing feeling I wasn't going anywhere\\ We taxied down the runway\\ The Cliff fans started to sing\\ I recognised the tune\\ But not the number of the hymn\\ If it wasn't for the vocal\\ It could have been The Last Post\\ As I turned the colour of a snowball\\ The temperature of toast\\ Sixty seconds later I'd be calling for the hostess\\ If I was going to meet my maker\\ I was going under protest\\ Kicking and screaming\\ Hanging from the wheels\\ Starry eyed and steaming\\ With a vegetarian meal\\ \\ This is your captain speaking\\ Please enjoy your flight\\ Fasten up your seatbelts for a bumpy ride\\ The sky outside is beautiful\\ It makes no sense\\ We should be experiencing turbulence \\