We made it back between plumes from Majorca. It was all a little nerve-wracking. Ryanair has just grounded two jets at Belfast having found volcanic ash in their engines. To be honest, I was more worried about the hazards in the cabin. Two braying stag parties competed for the attention of a dozen Scouse lasses on a hen do.
Chanting, jeering, belching drunkards, and that was just the girls. Which reminds me:
Bloke was sitting on a barstool, drinking a pint, at Heathrow airport, when a really beautiful woman sat down next to him. Bloke thought to himself, “Wow, she’s so gorgeous, she must be a flight attendant, but which airline does she work for?”
Being a bit of a know-all and hoping to pick her up, he leaned towards her and uttered the Delta slogan, “Love to fly and it shows?”
She gave him a blank, confused stare, and bloke immediately thought to himself, “Damn, she doesn’t work for Delta”.
A moment later, another slogan popped into his head. He leaned towards her again, “Something special in the air?”
She gave him the same confused look.
He mentally kicked himself and scratched Singapore Airlines off the list.Next he tried the Thai Airways slogan, “Smooth as silk”.
This time the woman turned on him, “What the f*** do you want?”
Bloke smiled, and said, “Ah, Ryanair!”
We stayed in Pollensa. There weren’t many hen parties there, but hoards of old ladies with zimmer frames and purple perms, with veins to match.
The weather was fantastic. Made us realise just how long our winter has been. We’re having a serious think about shipping out. Just for a few months. Just to get over the bloody winter. Pipe dreams. But with a laptop and phone each, why not? Global villages.
Anyway, back home, to the rain and central heating and political chaos. What happened to you all? Clegg didn’t manage to convert all the hype, and you Brits aren’t as liberal as you’d like to think you are.
Tough times ahead with all the Clubmed Countries on the brink of bankruptcy.
What a mess.