Flying
cattle-class is a form of sado-masochism, arising from acts involving
the infliction or reception of pain or humiliation whilst seated in a
cramped, metal tube travelling at 500 miles per hour, ignored for the
large part by surly, fake-tanned ex-models [known by some as 'Glorified Waitress in the Sky', and by others as 'Hostitute' and 'Trolly Dolly'].
Oh, and both toilets will be out of order for the entire 6-hour flight. Most people pay for the privilege of travelling in this manner, although the sum paid is not very much, usually the cost of a second class postage stamp. The purpose of such behaviour is usually to travel to a foreign destination, usually the underbelly of European resorts (Kavos! Faliraki! Sunny Beach! Ayia Napa! Canvey Island!).
Once arrived, they lounge around on the beach all day with no sun lotion on, rapidly contract skin cancer, gorge daily on three cooked English breakfasts, drink copious amounts of vodka, gin, beer, rum and Red Bull (not separately, but mixed together) administered through a funnel-and-pipe known as a Headfucker, and proceed to pass out in one's own vomit, after having shagged a random bird/bloke/blow-up doll/pillowcase.
I would never get caught out flying cattle-class. And I would never holiday in the fleshpots of Europe. No, I have a reputation to keep and I travel to quality destinations where I can enjoy exclusive, high-brow pursuits such as cultural tours, archaeology, wine tasting, fine dining, cock-sucking, visiting sex clubs and naturist beaches, looking for sex in the sand-dunes, cruising laybys and rampant dogging and cottaging. I'm at it like a rabbit! (Edit: Whoops, maybe best delete that last lot.)
Thus, I have this little rubber-stamp which I put on all my travel documentation, to remind cabin crew that I have a sensitive disposition and am only medically allowed to travel in Superior Class and dine off fine bone china with silvery cutlery, despite only having purchased a cattle-class ticket for tuppence. I also like there to be a red carpet awaiting me at the arrival airport, and have been known to threaten airlines with legal action for breach of contract if this has not been forthcoming.
Oh, and both toilets will be out of order for the entire 6-hour flight. Most people pay for the privilege of travelling in this manner, although the sum paid is not very much, usually the cost of a second class postage stamp. The purpose of such behaviour is usually to travel to a foreign destination, usually the underbelly of European resorts (Kavos! Faliraki! Sunny Beach! Ayia Napa! Canvey Island!).
Once arrived, they lounge around on the beach all day with no sun lotion on, rapidly contract skin cancer, gorge daily on three cooked English breakfasts, drink copious amounts of vodka, gin, beer, rum and Red Bull (not separately, but mixed together) administered through a funnel-and-pipe known as a Headfucker, and proceed to pass out in one's own vomit, after having shagged a random bird/bloke/blow-up doll/pillowcase.
