Talking Bollocks

I was on a plane comming back from Warsaw. British Airways. Extremely late. We were meant to leave at 5pm but left at mid night. Special plane etc. No business class passengers as they’d all been flown home on swans or angels or whatever money buys. So we’re sitting in our cramped little seats knocking our elbows together and we take off and the driver, who shares our pain, tells us that he’ll “peddle as fast as he can” to get us home. We chuckle, we British, with our British humour. A moment of camaraderie. Blitz spirit. Well, Poles present, so general Nazi bombing spirit. Alcohol served, general conviviality. What a day, all be home soon.
On the way back from the toilet I decide I may as well sit in a business class seat. They’re all empty and they’re only two further forward. The only difference is that they are separated by a curtain.

But no. A steward has a quiet word. I have ruined the moment by my presumption. I must go back to my seat. Feeling of camaraderie ebbs away. Bloody stuck up British wankers.

Hey ho.

Here is a picture of an impressive building in Warsaw.
 

airplane hackney