Monday, 22 January 2007

Stansted is dead to me.

I am officially over Stansted airport. I think we have to thank it for sucking any remaining traces of glamour from air travel and showing it for what it is: An eco-mangling, fart-smelling airborne cattle service.

BA will try to make your 28 inches of personal space feel like a little golden slice of luxury, with you in either the Leonard Rossiter or Joan Collins role, depending on preference. The crappy plonk, the complimentary socks...oh monsieur, what high living....what style. So what if the films are picked by the cinematic equivalent of Simon Cowell and they've still got ashtrays (come on, it's only been 10 years or so since smoking was banned, give them some time to get round to it)?

No, like a casual shag who wont pretend you're lovers, Easyjet and Ryanair let you know how it is. Things I love the most include...Ugly 'survival of the fittest' dash for seats? Check. Gum snapping stewardesses who don't even pretend they don't hate you? Yep. Bonus points available if they're named after a major brand or alcoholic drink. Twix at prison blackmarket prices? Oh yes. DVD player with 1hr30min film to watch, offered on a 1hr05min flight? Oh you cunning bastards.

Let's not even mention the carbon footprint associated with getting a load of Burberry apes off the ground for 74p (on the way there - £50 on the way back, sorry sir).

As for Stansted itself....Heathrow is a London airport. Gatwick is a London airport. Stansted is one of those tourist traps (in the truest sense of the word) that is so far from the City it pretends to serve as to be a pisstake. I'm looking at you as well, Narita. It is an airport serving Bishops Stortford and Essex. It's so far away from London that there's another place called London right by it.

It's Heathrow and expensive fares for me from here on in.

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