Madness….

So I finally got to the airport in London to fly home to Glasgow. The heat in London is a fucking killer. As I lifted my bag at the check in with good old-my favourite airline who lost my luggage and once abused me- British Airways, I mention to the assistant that my case looked unsafe on the conveyor belt she tags it at-“Let me put it on its side” I say “No its fine” she answers, clicks the belt to move and the heavy square case tips forward to me and tumbles right off the belt and lands on my ‘chaffed by new shoes’ ‘TOE!
“Holy Fuck! I told you it wasn’t safe there, ya mad woman!” I scream.
She came running round the check in desk and looks at my toe apologetically and says “Is it broken?”
“I don’t know I left my x-ray specs with Zoltar the ice woman back in Chelsea! How the fuck would I know if it’s broken, do I look like the freaky Russian child who can see through flesh?”
“I am sorry” She muttered and adds for full Janey blast of anger effect “It wasn’t my fault, the conveyor belt jolted it forward”
I look her right in the eye and forget all pain in my toe and shout loud enough for ‘the wee woman in terminal four toilets who has tinnitus in both ears, and once stood beside Concorde and asked what the champagne pop’ was- to hear clearly “Yes and I told you it looked unsafe and I wanted to move it forward but you decided to not let me do that and it fell on my toe! So don’t blame the conveyor belt that you pressed to move as my case was still able to be made safe!”
Apologies were made and I hobbled off to gate five to await my plane.
Finally we boarded and as I entered the aeroplane and handed over my ticket to check what seat I would be jammed into, a bottle fell of the galley area and bounced onto the tip of my sandal, narrowly missing my toe by a crotch hair, I think British Airways are desperate to break one of my toes in time for the Edinburgh festival.
Maybe there is a huge conspiracy between the PR people at Edinburgh (by the way Fiona Duff my PR is fucking great-best ever PR for comedy in the entire world-not like the PR that Scottish tennis player Andrew Murray has- his PR let him write on his blog that he would support ANY team that played England as he is a bitter Scot- he wrote that as he is playing in ENGLAND he has shit PR) I believe there is some strange thing where I get my toes broke and cant go perform at Edinburgh and Fiona loses some strange bet!
Anyway I am sitting on the flight and husband puts in the overhead locker a plastic bottle of ginger beer I have been drinking. I made sure it was shut tight but as we landed it seems some escaped the bottle and it couldn’t have been much as I checked how much was left.
Some had seeped into the handle of my laptop and some had dampened the bottom of a German bloke’s computer bag. I know this as I apologised when he showed it to me on the plane as we were leaving.
I got to the luggage carousel the German bloke started huffing and moaning holding up is slightly Damp corner of his bag. Now I know how inconvenient that can be so I asked him did he want me to soap that wee bit and dry it in the toilets.
“No it is completely ruined” he shouted at me. (Not a fucking good thing)
I snapped. “Look mate I apologised and I will dry it for you, is the stuff inside ruined?”
Angry German-“No”
“Ok where is it completely ruined then?, is the stuff inside damp at all? Is it just that wee corner of the outside that is a wee bit damp?” I asked him.
“I need your name and address to claim” He snapped back.
“Fuck off its not a fucking car accident, look you claim BA, it is NOT completely ruined now shut up, it’s a wee bit damp and I have apologised and I have offered to dry it…get over it…” I shout at him now.
“It is completely ruined” he repeated.
This was it, I had had enough “Look mate the Germans bombed Clydebank, a wee bit of Glasgow got damaged but the whole city was not completely ruined –so fuck off and take your damp un-ruined corner of the outside of your bag and fuck off” I dragged off my luggage and took my extremely stressed and now totally racists attitude to the taxi rank as husband thank God someone else had did more than him to annoy me.
Sorry German man, wrong place –wrong person to shout at.