In a scene more befitting a Dadaist painting than a Monday morning, eleven souls have departed this mortal coil in eastern France, their final moments a symphony of screaming and wind. A twin-engine plane, likely rented from someone’s nephew who swore he’d ‘fixed the thing,’ decided to become a lawn dart in the Vosges mountains, killing all aboard: skydivers and pilots alike. The French, too busy perfecting the art of shrugging, have called in British investigators.
Yes, the Air Accidents Investigation Branch, those gents who treat plane crashes like a particularly vexing game of Cluedo, are packing their tweed and heading to the Continent. One can only imagine the Gallic glee at not having to do the paperwork themselves. ‘Oh, look, an Englishman with a clipboard.
Let him sort the rivets from the ribcages.’ The plane, a Pilatus PC-12, was ferrying the jumpers when it apparently said, ‘I’ve had enough of this altitude nonsense,’ and embraced gravity with terminal enthusiasm. Local officials, with the gravity of a man who’s just lost his bidet, confirmed the death toll with somber shrugs.
‘It was a tragedy,’ they said, perhaps while smoking a Gauloise. The British team will now sift through the wreckage, looking for clues while reciting safety regulations like prayers. One hopes they’ve packed their own gin; French bureaucracy is thirsty work.
The skydivers, who had presumably jumped earlier for that brief, hallucinogenic rush of freefall, will now be remembered as cautionary tales for those who think strapping a parachute to a used minivan is a good idea. The pilots, likely overworked and underpaid, joins the great hangar in the sky. All in all, a bloody awful start to the week.
But fear not, the AAIB is on the case, ready to produce a report so dull it could cure insomnia in a hyperactive squirrel. They will find the cause: be it a dodgy bolt, a stray baguette, or simply the plane’s profound desire to be a hole. Until then, let us raise a glass of cheap kirsch to the eleven, and pray that the investigators don’t get lost on the way to the crash site.
After all, it’s France. The signs are in French.
