What do you do when you suddenly find yourself middle-aged, single and with your moobs/boobs down by your ankles? Desperate times call for desperate measures when you can't even go to Wetherspoon's and pull a roughian from Eccles. It's time to sell all your Elizabeth Duke at CashConverters and book a flight to a poor, corrupt country and throw yourself at the local totty!
Us aircrew don't just ogle and analyse our colleagues. Our days are so long and boring at times, we like to give the passengers a good psychoanalysis. On some long flights, we find ourselves making up stories about them; guessing what do they work as, how old they are, what their private life is like. Remember that series from 2000 or so called Clocking Off about the private lives of factory workers? I'd love to do an airline equivalent of it. Anyway, I'm digressing. What I'm trying to say is not all the passengers on your Brussels flight for example are going to a business meeting at the EU headquarters, nor are all Alicante bound pax going to watch Sticky Vicky shoving lightbulbs up her womanhood. I was in Manchester airport one day and felt rather uncomfortable. The smell of ageing, newly revived testosterone was in the air but the 'talent' on offer had a creepy look about them. I felt I was backstage in a BBC dressing room scenario in the 1970s if you know what I mean, they all had a bit of a noncey look about them. Then I looked at the departures board and a flight to Bangkok was due out. The penny dropped. These old men were all travelling alone just to get their end away! Bless their souls. A lot of these poor dudes used to travel to Eastern Europe to empty their sacks, but for some reason they can't figure out, when Latvia, Poland and co joined the EU, the ladies lost interest in marrying old codgers from Macclesfield.
It's the 21st century and the ladies are shagging their way through the world now as well. If you are an avid reader of Take A Break magazine, work at a registry office or tune in to UK Border Force, you can't fail to notice the amount of great-grandmothers seducing 21 year old Turkish barmen. Tunisia, Gambia and Egypt are other popular destinations for a bit of foreign toyboy action, but Turkey seems to have the leading edge in this meat market. It might be the fact that they can use the chat-up line 'I'll be your Turkish Delight' and the other nationalities haven't got a cheesy line to their disposal. The female studs who bang these Turks are usually from Wales, former mill towns in Lancashire, rough seaside resorts and former mining towns. Us trolley dollies love to spot these classy birds- you never get them on the Istanbul or the Ankara flight as the Turks who live in the capital and the second city tend to be wealthy and have decent looking birds of their own, not needing the financial assistance, oh sorry I mean affection, of a 60 yr old on DLA from Cleethorpes. Dalaman and Izmir are the hotspots of these wannabe GGILFs. They all get on to the plane dressed like Rihanna at Primark, the tightness of their leggings making us stewardesses debate whether it is a camel toe or a Tena Lady we can see down there. The PILFs will always make some snide comments to us like 'Deeeirrdree!' (after Coronation St's 1994 storyline where Deirdre shagged a Moroccan) or 'how many camels is she worth?'. On a Turkey, Shirley Valentine will be quoted at length, especially if the Turk Slags are Scousers. 'I bet she's made fuck in someone's boat', we would say as yet another GGILF high on HRT attempted to board the plane.
It's hard getting the cabin secure when there are Turk Slags on board. Bags (Tena?) falling out of the locker, Katie Price books everywhere, back issues of Take A Break serve as the unofficial Turk Shagging for Dummies. The Duty Free will be opened for a quick pre-takeoff drink as most Turk Slags have only just stopped caravanning it to Filey and aren't used to flying. The plane is mostly women, it's like a hen night sequel to Cocoon. Some birds are on their maiden voyage to pull a Turk, displaying the nerves of an 18 year old school leaver visiting Spearmint Rhino. You can tell a seasoned one as she usually has presents- cash, clothes from Top Man and Ed Hardy aftershave. There will usually be a token gift- a fragrance from the house of Britney Spears for his mum (who usually turns out to be his wife). A big WA-HEY rings through the cabin on take off. 5 hours of hell.
When we're pushing the trolley, we hear the same snatches of conversation, day in, day out. Mustafa is a barman in Marmaris. Mustafa has a sister who is really ill. Mustafa wants to come to the UK, but not for visa, he will put up with cold country for me. Mustafa likes curvy women, my cellulite ripples like the ocean. Mustafa has seen you coming, we giggle in the galley. Turk slags can be bitchy though. If anyone dares point out to them that sending £20,000 to someone they have just met who doesn't speak English is a bad idea, that means you're a very jealous person. Don't dare contradict one, as you can take the Turk slag out of the estate, but you can't take the estate out of them.
When the plane finally lands and the Turkish dispatcher comes up the steps, I fear for his life and that he'll get gangbanged by the congregation of Mecca bingo. God help these women if Turkey ever does get in the EU as I have a feeling this lucrative trade will go pop and Mustafa won't be interested anymore.
To summarise:
1. It is easy to pull in Turkey
2. Old women can be slags too
3. Don't wear leggings and Tena, they clash
4. Your crew watch you all!!!
