Flybe Are Shit

Flybe airline in the UK have driven me to near screaming. I was booked to fly out of Glasgow on the 9am flight to Southampton to do comedy from the Thursday till Sunday. So I got up at 7am and made my way to the airport all sleepy headed and irritable. (I don’t do mornings).

As I stood in the queue a man with ginger tufty hair, a mustard corduroy suit and paisley patterned dickie bow just jumped the queue and went in front of me. Normally I would have shouted, but I was too tired and all the other business men who looked like a Gordon Brown look-a-like contest all stood meekly watching. I sighed and stood annoyed but said nothing.

Then the check in desk clerk announced the flight to Southampton was cancelled. We all had to troop over to the service desk for info. Of course corduroy man was there first. He babbled and chatted in his upper class annoying accent for ages as I stood behind him waiting for the information. He then left his place, carrying his entire luggage; he banged into me and knocked my laptop to the floor. He just carried on regardless and marched through the queue.

“Excuse me, you could at least say excuse me or sorry” I finally screamed in frustration.

“I am sorry” He sneered with his head half over his shoulder, like saying sorry to the lies of me was something he never really bothered with.

“Really? Well you don’t sound sorry, just watch where you are going” I answered and I could feel the businessmen shuffle, they probably didn’t like confrontation.

The mustard suited man leaned over and bellowed “Well thank you for being so understanding” in his own sarcastic way.

That was enough for me “Listen up you middle class queue jumper, don’t look down at me and stop acting like you know how to communicate with people, the last time I saw someone dressed like you we were throwing coconuts at their head in a village fair, now piss off and learn some manners”

The men behind me giggled.

The woman at the desk giggled and informed me I had to come back at 2pm for the next flight. I was so angry and tired.

So I duly arrived back at the airport in time to catch the 2pm flight and guess who was seated in the tiny seat on the tiny wee aeroplane beside me? Oh yes mustard dickie bow man!

It was one of those aeroplanes that looks it flew in World War 11. I was horrified and annoyed, the plane was full and mustard man made such a fuss getting into the minuscule seat, banging against me, elbowing me and tried to open a broad sheet newspaper that almost covered my face as he stretched out his yellow corduroy arms.

I hissed “Excuse me, spatially unaware man, this (I indicated my seat area with my open arms) is my dance space and that (I pointed to his wee seat area) is your dance space, do not cross the line, touch me again and I will stab you with a pencil in the eye”.

He looked at me and spoke loudly “You are incredibly rude”

I answered “Yes I am, now shut up and if you speak to me again, I swear I will scream and get that air steward down here quicker than a poof running to a Kylie concert, you understand?”

He shut up.

Finally the plane landed and I watched everyone or almost everyone pick up their luggage. There was about twenty people left standing and we all realised our luggage wasn’t coming. Fucking Mustard man got his luggage though….
My luggage somehow never made it on the Glasgow plane, which I don’t understand, the plane is the size of a skateboard, and how can they fuck that up?

So there I was in Southampton with no luggage, I had to go to the town centre and buy toothpaste, toothbrush and clean knickers.

I checked into the hotel and now I have woken up and it’s Friday, I have a show tonight and no clothes STILL! I need to go into town but its cold and my thick jacket is in that case.

I called John Smeaton back in Glasgow. He is the accidental hero of the terror attacks on Glasgow airport and he is a baggage handler there and a good friend of mine, he is on the case to find my case.

So everyone feel sorry for me today, I am cold, dirty and look like a pikey.