We left our rented flat in Copenhagen (oh yeah, forgot to mention we went to Copenhagen) and headed for the airport to catch an EasyJet flight back to London. As EasyJet do not allocate seat numbers a long, grimly determined queue had formed outside the departure gate. There was an uneasy atmos as our fellow passengers eyed each other warily and subtly jostled for position.

After about half an hour, a frisson of almost erotic excitement ran the length of the human holiday making centipede as the doors finally opened. The crowd surged forward by almost 12 centimetres before stopping short at a desk. A further 20 minutes dragged by before a uniformed man sat down behind the aforementioned desk (please see previous sentence) and began rustling papers. The crowd reacted like a salivating but cowed doberman focused on a piece of meat. Finally, the metaphorical piece of meat (or Mike as he probably prefers) looked up and began checking passports and taking tickets. We slowly shuffled along and eventually passed the previously alluded to desk. At last! We had made it! To another room with a load of people queueing.

Susie and I decided to stick two fingers up to convention like a couple of mohican sporting pensioners and abandoned the line to sit down. As each minute limped by, more and more people did the same. This just left the hardcore queueing faction to resolutely hold on to the ‘aisle seat near the front’ fantasy.

Without fanfare, the glass doors slid futuristically to the side and the slumped throng jumped up to join the queue. When I say ‘join’ I don’t mean in the traditional sense of going to the back of the line. It more closely resembled a UN food package drop. The queue (I’m getting a little bored of typing queue. It’s such a convoluted way of spelling ‘q’. I doubt teenagers have any truck with it) was now as wide as it was long and more of a ‘mass’. The exaggerated eye rolling from the hardcore line was apoplectically epileptic.

Via the magic of tannoy we were informed that the flight was boarding and Priority Passengers were invited forward. They were to be followed by those travelling with children and anyone requiring special assistance. Just one man in a business suit walked to the door, wheeling his suitcase behind him like a reject from ‘The Apprentice’. In my view if your hand luggage is so heavy it needs wheels to be carried then it is not hand luggage. It is luggage.

As I bravely made this defiantly satirical point in my own brain cradle, the lone Priority Passenger continued to smug his way to the plane. I was puzzled by what he had gained by stumping up the extra ‘Priority Passenger Payment’ as alliteration aficionados call it.  A roomful of resentful people had just been told that not only did they have to wait for him, so did harassed mothers with weeping, bewildered children while anyone in a wheelchair had received a hefty kick in the teeth (not literally). Once on board he would have first dibs on any of the identical seats and forced to wait in cramped conditions longer than anyone else. He must know that the plane would eventually land at the same time for everybody?

According to the EasyJet website, this exclusive treatment costs £12. Personally I would prefer to give the money to a sick orphan or divide it up amongst ‘the elderly’. Yes I would.

After a certain amount of kicking, punching and biting, Susie and I managed to work our way to second from last in line and had to sit separately in the few remaining seats. An air stewardess who looked almost exactly like Yootha Joyce from the 1970’s sitcom ‘George and Mildred’ stood at the front of the plane to make an announcement.

This is only the third photo of Yootha Joyce used on a Location Independent travel blog this year.


Yootha welcomed us aboard the EasyJet flight to London and said she would like to extend a particularly warm welcome to Priority Passengers. I’m afraid I wasn’t close enough to point out that there was only one Priority Passenger and correct her gratuitously unnecessary use of the plural. The object of this ‘particularly warm welcome’ was probably too busy conducting business deals on his Blackberry (Crackberry I call it!! 🙂 LMAO!!) to notice.

I began to muse on the whole notion of a warm welcome. Does simply saying that the proffered welcome is warm actually make it a warmer, a better, an emotionally richer welcome? Surely a warm welcome can only be a description of a physical display. If EasyJet staff were obliged to hug their Priority Passengers and stare deeply into their eyes as they came aboard then that could legitimately be described as a warm welcome during and after the event. However, it would be unfair to expect an Aero-Concierge to genuinely feel more warmth, more love if you will for a passenger simply because they had paid an additional levy. Or would it?

Yes, I was very bored by this point and clutching at anything to dispel the tedium. Soon, all pedantic thoughts of varying levels of welcome were whipped aside faster than Cheryl Baker’s skirt at a Bucks Fizz gig as Yootha made a second announcement. Being a slave to historical accuracy, I have transcribed it below:-

“Blah blah blah blah blah… safety… blah blah… drinks and snacks… blah blah… and will be offering you the opportunity to purchase EasyJet memorabilia.”

Whoa, hold the freakin’ phone girlfriend! There is such a thing as EasyJet memorabilia? The full implications of this sudden revelation made the world swim and my dizzy nodules jumped to a dangerous 11. Disposable trash is one thing but souvenir items commemorating a short flight on a budget airline is taking everything that’s wrong with the world and fashioning it into a keyring.

Unconvincingly Photoshopped EasyJet Memorabilia earrings modeled by Yootha Joyce. This is only the fourth photo of Yootha Joyce used on a Location Independent travel blog this year.


Delivering these memorabiliacal items into fetid, plastic existence requires actual suppliers, investors, designers, third world labour, manufacturers, delivery drivers, warehouse staff, security guards, accountants, distributors, airport personnel etc. etc. To make this viable many passengers on a regular basis must press the little button above their heads to summon a Sky Servant and conduct the following conversation:-

Passenger: Hi, I just heard your announcement regarding the purchase of EasyJet Memorabilia?

Sky Servant: Yes, that’s right. We have EasyJet Memorabilia available for purchase.

Passenger: That’s great and I’m really pleased! I would like to purchase some items of Easyjet Memorabilia with real money that I have earned from a job that statistically I probably don’t enjoy. I am more than happy to exchange this currency for a souvenir of this short flight as I can always continue to work in a job I feel humiliated in and eventually replace the money I have spent.

Sky Servant: Good idea. I value you as a person.

Passenger: I have decided on the EasyJet badge shaped like an EasyJet aeroplane with the word or words depending on your point of view, ‘EasyJet’ written on it. Here is £8.99. May I now have the EasyJet badge shaped like an aeroplane?

Sky Servant: Yes you may. Here you go Sir or Madam.

Passenger: Thank you and thank you EasyJet.

Sky Servant: You are warmly welcome.

If you are involved in the manufacture of EasyJet Memorabila, have bought EasyJet Memorabila, know anyone that has bought EasyJet Memorabila or can tell me where I can get hold of a pair of EasyJet cufflinks for under £10, please do get in touch at the usual address.


3 Responses to “EasyJetSet”

  1. Great blog -mind you I like Easy Jet and could not get far from Malta without them.

  2. 2 davexxxx

    Thanks! Always pleased to meet another Gadabout.

  3. 3 Buzz

    Ha ha ha excellent post. So true. LMFAO!!!!! (is that correct? I am nearly 36).

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