Which was when young Tom Jones, known throughout Pontypridd (and now the Holy Land) simply as Sam's Son, received a summons from the Ponty Pilot, requesting his help in an attempt to get his plane repaired so that he could take all his stranded passengers home and hopefully put paid to the Compen claim they had raised against him; "why me?" asked Sam's Son, "because you're one of the brightest in Ponty," said Delilah, who was smocking a shirt behind the bar in the Taverna, "look you," she put her hands on her hips, "didn't you get the Governors' Prize in Sixth Form, when you invented an individual hovercraft, I saw you with my own eyes, hovering six feet off the ground and you went right round the whole school building – it was amazing is what it was," and Sam's Son hung his head to hide his embarrassment, for he knew how the trick had been done, but hadn't had the gall to own up to it when the Prize was announced, and the cash that went with it had helped ensure Taffy and Morgan kept their gobs shut too: "but I don't know anything about aeroplanes, Del, still, I suppose it can't hurt to go and see him," and that was how, later that afternoon, in the Roman Governor's Palace, the one-legged, one-armed, one-eyed Ponty Pilot introduced him to a couple of guys he said were whizzes when it came to flying machines; they were both from Llareggub, a father and son, Derek Luscombe and Ivor Carlos Luscombe; "everyone calls me Dedilus, and Ivor, here, Icarlus," said the father: "you know what a hypocoristic place Wales is," and Sam's Son grinned, "oh, don't I just, but how are we going to fix the plane?" so Dedilus showed him some photos of the aircraft, with both it's wings drooping, and explained: "what we're going to do is cut two sheets of plywood to the size of the wings, and fix them under the wings, with a guy rope from each wing-tip going over the fuselage and pulled tight till we've got the wings at the correct angle, and we are hoping that you would be the Test Pilot, with your experience – we've heard about your Hovercraft – with Icarlus navigating – he's good at map-reading, did some orienteering for his Duke of Edinburgh Award – but the most important attribute for a pilot is what's known in the profession as sitzfleisch – the ability to sit tight for long periods of time, no getting up every little while and going for a walk, stretch your legs, no, no, can't be done, you get an empty milk bottle for emergencies, but that's your lot, same goes for the lad with the map and compass, and my lad's a natural, he can sit for Wales and no mistake," and Icarlus smiled shyly – he obviously didn’t like being in the limelight; "and what about fuel, Mr Pilot? sorry, Mr Jenkins?" asked Sam's Son, and the Ponty Pilot laughed:"nobody ever calls me by my family name, son, gets me quite addlepated when they do, stick to Pilot and I'll know you're talking to me! but as to your question, d'you mind Ronnie Boyle? had the Ponty Refinery and three petrol stations in the town, and supplied all the local chippies with their cooking oil, well, Oil as he's better known, was one of my passengers, him and his wife Nancy always travel with the Ponty Pilot and when he heard I'd bought the plane back from the scrappy and about Deddy's plan to fix it, he did a bit of exploration in the desert and he struck oil in the Meged! he's set up a refinery and now he's supplying oil all over the Middle East, and there's enough fuel stockpiled for me so as soon as you and the boys get the plane working, I'll be able to start holiday flights from here to Wales; most of them's been here so long they've got used to the good weather and wouldn't want to emigrate back but would like the occasional week or two to visit their friends and relations, unless they’ve had a fall-out, in which case I'm hoping to take Safari parties to Africa, there's lots of Big Games at the Pan-African Bingo Hall in Chapel Street, top prize is a cruise on the Nile – a Murder Mystery Weekend, fancy that yourself, son, take Delilah Pew with you?"