I'm sitting here starting to write this whilst we wait on the runway ready to take off from Sharm El Sheikh airport. It's been a great holiday but I'm absolutely convinced the concept of April Fool's Day is not lost on the Egyptians.
As we looked up to the TV screens, anticipating some form of delay, the departure status had changed from On Time - to DEPARTED.
WHAT THE FUCK?!?
Naturally, panic set in as we have no clothes, very little holiday money and no Bedouin mates down the road that can put us up in their tents.
Missing the flight home equals an epic fail.
Upon asking Mohamed, Ahmed, Mohamed, Mohamed and Hisham, the most detailed reply we recieved was "ten minutes". We had been beside gate 7 since we arrived and only flights for Manchester and East Midlands had departed from the other gates- surely the bastards haven't changed the gates and left without us?
Finally, as some Egyptian airport officials (who looked as formal as Royal Mail postmen) arrived at our gate to signal our departure, it dawned on me that we're clearly being made champion mugs out of as the victims of their April 1st gag.
As you've learned from above, I made it on to the plane. But my April Fool's torment doesn't end there.
Because we arrived at check-in early, we were granted the choice of whether we preferred two seats either side of the aisle, or a window seat and a "sandwich" seat sat together.
My usual luck is in, I've ended up in the sandwich seat.
And when I say sandwich, I mean one fucking mental sandwich.
To my right is the girlfriend, sleeping gracefully in her window seat, blissfully unaware of her surroundings and for all intents and purposes having a lovely flight.
Now comes the actual horror of my remaining neighbours.
To my left is a woman I can only describe as a planet. Her GUNT is what she is resting the fold down tray on. Really.
She has demolished an entire packet of the Egyptian version of Rich Tea biscuits and now continues to wade aggressively through a double club sandwich / Pringles combo she purchased from the snack trolley.
And she reeks of sweaty piss. Splendid.
That's just the first of my fabulous jetsetting neighbours.
The "couple" in front of me, consist of what is best described as a fat, Arabic George Michael and his 6 foot 2", redhead, TRANSVESTITE companion.
I had seen this mammoth brute in the airport some half an hour before boarding my flight. What immediately stuck me as bizarre was why a man with a face as rugged as a North Sea lobster fisherman and hands like JCB buckets happened to be wearing a leopard skin dress- holding up quite a sizeable pair of clearly fake tits.
Grotesque. And sitting in front of me nibbling its boyfriend's ear.
Furthermore, this double act of beast and keeper have relentless coughs. Oh I do love a cough in a confined space. There's nothing I quite like more than some horrible freaks generously spreading their diseases in a closed environment. Delightful.
I'm thrilled and elated to let you know there's one final humdinger of a neighbour in this assortment of my travelling company.
Now, I've certainly not got anything against people with learning difficulties, or the disabled- I could probably blag the latter with my digit deduction. I'm glad they get the chance to holiday like the rest of us, see new things and enjoy a break from their normal "9-5".
However, I'd really really really rather the inquisitive chap in front of me to my left, stop staring at me.
I'm in row two, though certainly wasn't aware the front row was reserved solely for trannies, their rotund chaperones AND the mentally impaired.
The latter of the trio has consistently locked his eyes on me over his right shoulder, whilst dribbling and occasionally clapping, and I'm starting to get slightly jarred by it. If it wasn't for the clapping I might have thought he was dead.
This is very off key. (and a photo is, even for me, inappropriate).
By the grace of God- the drinks cart has been round. Hopefully my purchase of 4 cans of Stella and 3 brandies will provide me with the lullaby I desperately need to survive the remaining FOUR AND A HALF HOURS IN THIS FLYING DUNGEON.
Otherwise I think I'm going to get out here.
Thanks Egyptians, your April fool's gags have gone down a treat.
