And before you say Here he goes again Here I go again. Flybe must be one of the most pathetic airlines on the planet - second only to Air Cleckheaton in its ineptitude. Gentle reader I am esconced in a hard chair in what is laughingly called a Departure Lounge but is more like a transit camp with perfumery and electronic goods retail outlets. A gang of lads fat, tattooed and drunk, take up half a dozen tables and are well on the way to being pissed en rout to Greece on a stag doo - no doubt to get fellated en masse by a drunken lass who will have to grow a beard and wear a hard hat for the rest of her life to avoid detection. All around me businessmen are talking loudly into bits of plastic and rare earth metals and blond ladies of indeterminate age with botox lips and gravy tans are drinking Penis Colodas. I arrived here at 7.30 this morning for the flight to Knock where a man called Monsignor Horan managed to turn a strip of upland bog into an International airport that gets fog bound from time to time - as in a lot. My flight should leave at 10.05 but I came here early because the security at Mancs is now so strict that apart from going through bollock naked I dont know how much more detector freeone can become. I set off the alarm and was frisked in an overfriendly fashion because my slip on shoes have small steel strips in the soles. After that gathering my assorted jacket / weskit / iPad / laptop / belt / wallet / keys / phone / banjo / harmonica etc while hopping round on one leg putting my shoes on - with no belt on and in imminent danger of becoming trouserless - was a capital start to a day which has now had a monumental heap of shit dumped on it in the shape of an announcement by Flybe that the flight is delayed at least 2 hrs. One tired motherly lady on the information desk told me they had technical problems with the Belfast leg of the flight which is supposed to come here before heading out to the Holy Landing Strip. I promised her that I realised it was not her fault but pointed out that this happens pretty much every time I fly Flymaybe to Knock. Regular readers of my meanderings will know that - much as I prefer the ferry - I have to fly when Im making a short trip home to Ireland. And regular readers will also be used to my rants. Complaining to Flybe produces no results. Ryanair manage to leave and land on time most of the time and their tinny trumpets tootle the fact out out across the world. You can fly Ryanair for the cost of a packet of duty free fags, a bottle of malt and a giant Toblerone. Im paying £122 for the return trip. Flybe - let me tell you - at least Dick Turpin wore a mask!!! Dear Flymaybe If your feckin planes didnt have plastic propellors and if they werent turf fired; if your technical organisation wasnt run by a trainspotter in a shed in Ecclefechan; if your mechanics knew more than how to make a car from feckin Lego then we might have a chance of leaving on time and getting there on time. BUT I HAVE LOST COUNT OF THE NUMBER OF TIMES I HAVE SAT AT MANCS AIRPORT FOR HOURS BECAUSE OF YOUR INEPTITUDE. You are as much used as a fart in a diving suit / a chocolate tea pot / a square rolling pin (tick whichever suits the most.) Flymaybe I am hacked off to the gonads with you And dont think by letting off steam like this I am letting off steam - no theres plenty coal in the firebox and water in the boiler. On landing (whenever that is) I shall get home and make a clay model of your CEO and I shall stick pins in it while uttering curses of a deeply malevolent nature hoping that for the rest of his life whatever he is doing - getting married / having fun / going to the match / meeting a lovely woman (man) / going for a great meal with friends - he is always 2 hrs late - except for the feckin undertaker.
Posted on: Fri, 18 Jul 2014 09:08:45 +0000
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