Well? Many years ago I lived for a short period of time in San Diego. One of the stops on the Brits-on-the-Pish in California tour was a trip out to Miramar, the fighter station made famous by the movie "Top Gun." And, yes, we went to that bar. It was surprisingly like the scene in the film; lots of tanned, athletic spam "Naval Aviators" in gleaming whites, aviator sunglasses and lots of gold badges and medals (they looked like a gay dance troupe to me), surrounded by what can only be described as a fcuking phalanx of the most gorgeous southern Californian crumpet I have ever seen, ever, hanging on to their every word. Sickening. What they didn't show you was a smaller group of blokes in khaki uniforms wearing chip bag hats with skinhead haircuts sitting on their own in the opposite corner. They looked a lot harder (i.e. uglier) but the crumpet quotient was virtually non-existent. We wandered over to these blokes and asked them who they were, in our amiable English way, and why they weren't trapping. They explained that they were USMC helicopter pilots, cobra squadron, and that the chicks went for the Tomcat pilots and not them, "and we ain't gay, either" lamented one of the jarheads. Very sad. So, it's the Dog & Duck on Friday night somewhere in England. It's a half dozen NCO army helo pilots versus fifteen crab Tornado pilots. Who'd trap the most? V!