A big ALRITE MATE you bunch of common, human cattle Ryanair cheapskates! How is the summer treating you? How many brats have you tried to kill for running over your feet with a Trunki? How many poncy students from down South have you tutted at in Upper Crust at the airport for holding up the queue asking for discount? Today's lecture is about airport shopping.
No matter what country you're in and whether you're travelling in First with Emirates or sitting on the shitter on Sleazyjet, we are all equals when it comes to the shite being flogged to us. You'd think the introduction of the Euro in 2002, the drop in costs of air travel and Tony Bliar giving the go ahead in 1997 to end intracontinental duty free would have put a stop to airport shopping. No, it just got out if control! Duty Free within Europe may have ended, but chavs started going to Shaaaarm and Orlandur , benefit claims and credit card limits increased and people basically became greedy gits. Take a look at any airport in the UK and even the world and the same shite is getting peddled. Let me start with one for you fat bastards.
Chocolate
Have you ever got to an airport or on board a plane and said to your mate 'Ey, do you know what I'm craving right now? A 500g bar of Toblerone!' Me neither. Why do airports feel the need to sell these bars that break your teeth, don't even taste nice unless you're Swiss (and that lot like shitting on each other and killing their grannies so I wouldn't trust their tastebuds), and why do you need half a kilo of the stuff? Most people think perfume, fags and ale when it comes to airports, not Toblerones.
Shortbread
Another one like the Toblerone, something that is in abundance on planes, airports and executive lounges. Why? Is the CEO of Walkers Shortbread shagging Willie Walsh or something? Nothing says First Class travel more than a glass of champagne, some foie gras and a packet of fucking shortbread with NOT FOR RESALE emblazoned on it. Why on earth would you come back from a week in Dubai and think 'oh Ill get me ma a tin of Scottish shortbread to remind her of my trip to Arabia.' Shortbread needs to be limited to the Christmas cupboard next to the eggnog that gets wheeled out when the relatives you dont like come round.
Swarovski
God I hate this kitsch, faux-classy jewellery. It looks the type of idiotic, childlike shite that a 60 year old from Bolton would buy his 18 year old mail order bride to give a pretend image of youth. Swarovski necklaces have a cheap looking leather chain on that is reminiscent of 1990s boyband jewellery and has a charm on like a cat's head or a bunch of grapes in Swarovski crystal. It screams 'my missus isnt worth diamonds but I cant be arsed standing in the queue for the lucky lucky man so Ill meet her halfway'. The Swarovski pen is sold on most aircraft too and is a popular gift for businessmen getting their other halves a guilt present after sticky fingers in Amsterdam. Crew get them for their not so loved ones too.
Suitcases
Why oh why would you buy a suitcase airside? Yes, Manchester airport, why do you continue to sell these in Terminal 1 when that space could be put to good use like installing a few extra bogs.
Radley bags
Girls, I love a nice handbag but one with a Scottie dog hanging off? I don't care if it's tax free, it looks like something a catwoman would carry. I bet you bring your own teabags on board too.
Posers' corner
That area in WH Smiths that have destination-based novels and is always full of Tarquins reading not buying. You know, those off to Thailand will stand there and read The Beach and those on a Greek island hop will feign interest in Captain Corelli's banjo string or whatever it was called. The Beindorm lot just read Take A Break. Nobody buys these books! That's why theyre all in the second hand shop next to the vuvuzelas and the Spanish dolls.
Airport Set
Cabin crew and child haters will know this one. The little 10 piece airport set you can buy on most airlines and duty free shops that has a noisy plane with flashing lights. The brats are usually in possession of a Trunkie too. The plane gets turned on, lights blazing for the first half of the flight and ends up tripping you up when you get up to go the bog. Also, the other bits of the airport set get neglected and you always end up crushing the air traffic controller under your foot which starts the brat off crying and its parents giving you evils. Why do they make this shite?
To summarise:
1.Toblerones taste vile
2. If you've got a Swarovski pen, your hubby has played away
3. Radley bags are as bad as Crocs
Wednesday 3 September 2014
Tuesday 8 July 2014
Foreign Totty
Greetings you bunch of full cavity search loving masochists! Holiday season is upon us so let's discuss fit people from all round the globe. We have already discussed Amsterdam working girls and Turkish romeos getting romanced by HRT fuelled widows so let's see what other natural beauty the world has to offer. If you think I'll be discussing Niagara Falls and the Colossus of Rome, you obviously made a typo and should be on the Lonely Planet homepage instead. I'm talking the real natural beauties like sultry Latina babes with big arses, Italian stallions managing to pull off a Man Bag, dashing Arabs in full robe and swarthy English lads from Salford in trackies (err maybe not).
So let us begin with North America. Some of you girls get a right bean-on seeing Canadian Mounties, you sure wanna mount them but that's all I can say about Canada. The country bores me a bit, I was in Toronto the other year and no deposits were made in my female wankbank, I was still relying on a 2011 pic of the Dubai Aquarium to flick my bean over. No you sick bastards, I dont fancy sharks, it was a sneaky shot I took of a load of local men admiring the chameleon. So on to the good old US of A, a popular destination with our Chubby Chasers. Extension seatbelts in economy plus at the ready lads!
South America is a favourite with the gays. For some reason, ever since Ricky Martin came out, the floodgates have opened, poppers are getting popped and all the European twinks are heading over to re-enact the human centipede on the beaches of Brazil. The world cup is a perfect opportunity for my gay stewards to combine Latin passion with the grit of Triga Films (if you dont know what Triga is, get off this blog and read House Beautiful magazine instead).
Africa is a continent of heat, danger and variation, a bit like the menopausal, hormone fuelled women from Nottingham who go there in search of toyboys. Let us start with North Africa. Women of a certain vintage have a fond memory of films like Lawrence of Arabia and ever since their female icon Lady Di shagged Dildo Al Fayed on his yacht in 1997, theyve always wanted to score with an Arabian. Too fat, old and not blonde enough to cop off with one of the Gulf lot, they try and pull the bargain bucket reject ones in Morocco and Tunisia, a bit like Deirdre in Corrie. Those who like their men like their coffee, hot, strong and black tend to head further south like the Gambia for toyboy marriage. It is estimated that middle aged women marrying toyboys since the advent of budget airlines has caused an increase in Home Office and border control jobs by 200% .
Europe is the best place for talent spotting. Those kinky so and so's love Holland, Germany and Belgium to indulge in watersports. At my previous airline, my German air hosts loved nothing better than being trussed up in a makeshift dungeon in the basement of a block of flats in East Berlin and having root vegetables shoved up their arse. Even some of the flightdeck loved getting pissed on by some six foot Teutonic bird with no tits and hairy pits. The sooner we leave the EU the better I say. Let's get back to classic British pursuits like Dogging in time to the Benny Hill theme. Oh I forgot, I'm meant to be talking about fit countries. Germany-ugly. Eastern Europe- fit birds, blokes like bulldogs licking piss off a nettle. Central Europe- body of baywatch face of crimewatch. Southern Mediterranean- up North look like pasty Shetland ponies, down South fit Mateo off Benidorm and Shakira lookalikes. Holiday resorts- ugly inbreds from South Yorkshire and for this reason your airlines give you a free pair of Beer Goggles in addition to your luggage allowance.
Dubai- Russian whores, British Z- list fuckwits with fake boobs like Peter Andre, fit local lads with pure tents in their robes.
Thailand- no fit people but freaks of nature who can write Happy Birthday simply by using their sphincter muscles and an Argos biro.
So people, the world is your oyster! Columbus was so wrong when he said the world was round. It is in fact flat in parts like a German's ballbag and voluptuous in others like a Brazilian's arse.
To summarise:
1. Germans are dirty bastards
2. Lady Di is solely responsible for all the illegals doing bogus marriages
3. The recent world cup was merely a front to host a gay human centipede on the beaches of Brazil
So let us begin with North America. Some of you girls get a right bean-on seeing Canadian Mounties, you sure wanna mount them but that's all I can say about Canada. The country bores me a bit, I was in Toronto the other year and no deposits were made in my female wankbank, I was still relying on a 2011 pic of the Dubai Aquarium to flick my bean over. No you sick bastards, I dont fancy sharks, it was a sneaky shot I took of a load of local men admiring the chameleon. So on to the good old US of A, a popular destination with our Chubby Chasers. Extension seatbelts in economy plus at the ready lads!
South America is a favourite with the gays. For some reason, ever since Ricky Martin came out, the floodgates have opened, poppers are getting popped and all the European twinks are heading over to re-enact the human centipede on the beaches of Brazil. The world cup is a perfect opportunity for my gay stewards to combine Latin passion with the grit of Triga Films (if you dont know what Triga is, get off this blog and read House Beautiful magazine instead).
Africa is a continent of heat, danger and variation, a bit like the menopausal, hormone fuelled women from Nottingham who go there in search of toyboys. Let us start with North Africa. Women of a certain vintage have a fond memory of films like Lawrence of Arabia and ever since their female icon Lady Di shagged Dildo Al Fayed on his yacht in 1997, theyve always wanted to score with an Arabian. Too fat, old and not blonde enough to cop off with one of the Gulf lot, they try and pull the bargain bucket reject ones in Morocco and Tunisia, a bit like Deirdre in Corrie. Those who like their men like their coffee, hot, strong and black tend to head further south like the Gambia for toyboy marriage. It is estimated that middle aged women marrying toyboys since the advent of budget airlines has caused an increase in Home Office and border control jobs by 200% .
Europe is the best place for talent spotting. Those kinky so and so's love Holland, Germany and Belgium to indulge in watersports. At my previous airline, my German air hosts loved nothing better than being trussed up in a makeshift dungeon in the basement of a block of flats in East Berlin and having root vegetables shoved up their arse. Even some of the flightdeck loved getting pissed on by some six foot Teutonic bird with no tits and hairy pits. The sooner we leave the EU the better I say. Let's get back to classic British pursuits like Dogging in time to the Benny Hill theme. Oh I forgot, I'm meant to be talking about fit countries. Germany-ugly. Eastern Europe- fit birds, blokes like bulldogs licking piss off a nettle. Central Europe- body of baywatch face of crimewatch. Southern Mediterranean- up North look like pasty Shetland ponies, down South fit Mateo off Benidorm and Shakira lookalikes. Holiday resorts- ugly inbreds from South Yorkshire and for this reason your airlines give you a free pair of Beer Goggles in addition to your luggage allowance.
Dubai- Russian whores, British Z- list fuckwits with fake boobs like Peter Andre, fit local lads with pure tents in their robes.
Thailand- no fit people but freaks of nature who can write Happy Birthday simply by using their sphincter muscles and an Argos biro.
So people, the world is your oyster! Columbus was so wrong when he said the world was round. It is in fact flat in parts like a German's ballbag and voluptuous in others like a Brazilian's arse.
To summarise:
1. Germans are dirty bastards
2. Lady Di is solely responsible for all the illegals doing bogus marriages
3. The recent world cup was merely a front to host a gay human centipede on the beaches of Brazil
Tuesday 4 February 2014
Etihad = Sketihad
I've been doing some covert research again lately as I had a day off work and I wanted something to laugh at. At the end of 2013, I had a mad idea in my head that I wanted to move back to the UAE and decided to apply for Etihad as cabin crew. My intentions weren't just about you my dear readers- I was thinking about the local scenery. I knew I wouldn't stand a chance at passing the medical and I'd shit myself if they asked me to jump into 10 feet of water fully clothed and pull up a colleague on the life raft so I decided to go along to the assessment day just in case other, ground-based opportunities were mentioned and if any local men were there for me to ogle. You see, 2013 was the year I became single again after leaving the waste of space chav in PILFs clothing and had a brief romance with a UAE national- but that's another blog. Trust me, proper top shelf Ann Summers reading. I expected Etihad would be the passport to fit foreign men on tap and possible mile high scenarios like this pic:
I had never seen so many commoners in all my life. This is how the day started.
9am- Hilton Hotel at Manc Airport. I stayed the night as good cabin crew always come early (PILFs shouldn't though, you understand.)Always be prepared, read up on the airline you're going to be working for and stand out in a good way. Some of these bints looked an absolute show. About 100 girls and 2 blokes (awww they were doing it for the puh-sayyy) were standing round the hotel reception and there was no sense of organisation whatsoever. They looked starstruck as if they were looking for Simon Cowell to make them the next Leona, eagerly fiddling with their name badges. These birds were less X-Factor and more floptastic Fame Academy though. Some of them had made no effort whatsoever. Like the Thomson interview I spied on, kitten heels seemed to be a running theme amongst the Yorkshire lasses. I even saw one Polish tart WITH THE PRICE LABELS ON UNDER HER SHOES!!! Good job I was short sighted as I might have groaned, cringed and maybe puked if I had seen it was a Deichmann label.
Stay tuned for the rest......... I'll write the rest when I stop getting images of polyester bodycon suits and cheap shoes out of my head.
But of course I am a lot slimmer than her and wouldn't have my hair ragged back in a bun. Anyway, from what I witnessed at my Etihad interview, it looked more like this:
I had never seen so many commoners in all my life. This is how the day started.
9am- Hilton Hotel at Manc Airport. I stayed the night as good cabin crew always come early (PILFs shouldn't though, you understand.)Always be prepared, read up on the airline you're going to be working for and stand out in a good way. Some of these bints looked an absolute show. About 100 girls and 2 blokes (awww they were doing it for the puh-sayyy) were standing round the hotel reception and there was no sense of organisation whatsoever. They looked starstruck as if they were looking for Simon Cowell to make them the next Leona, eagerly fiddling with their name badges. These birds were less X-Factor and more floptastic Fame Academy though. Some of them had made no effort whatsoever. Like the Thomson interview I spied on, kitten heels seemed to be a running theme amongst the Yorkshire lasses. I even saw one Polish tart WITH THE PRICE LABELS ON UNDER HER SHOES!!! Good job I was short sighted as I might have groaned, cringed and maybe puked if I had seen it was a Deichmann label.
Stay tuned for the rest......... I'll write the rest when I stop getting images of polyester bodycon suits and cheap shoes out of my head.
Tuesday 14 January 2014
Economy Plus tossers
Hi passengers! After being suspended from Twitter yet again (think it's because I told the Prince of Dubai he was a permanent fixture in my wankbank but am waiting for Twitter to confirm this, those dumbass Yanks probably don't know what like a like wankbank is like y'all.) I am going to be blogging a lot more now about the issues that affect me and my fellow passengers. Really hard hitting issues like should fat bastards be allowed on planes, should female pilots be allowed to fly on routes with single female girls wanting to cop off with a pilot and is it mandatory that Faro passengers are all ugly twats who have the complexion of a golf ball? Today's hot topic is Economy Plus tossers. If you're of that unfortunate generation of youngsters who only know budget airlines, you won't understand this post.
Most 'proper' airlines offer something called economy plus which is basically the gooch of business and economy class. If you don't know what a gooch is, then go and read a travelogue from a twatty Daily Mail reporter instead. Economy plus is cheaper than business but has more legroom than economy and maybe an extra snack thrown in which leads us to our first Economy Plus twat....
The Foxtrot Bravo
Airline staff know that is the not so secretive codename we give to our lardy passengers, short for Fat Barsteward. Most Foxtrot Bravos live off benefits and tend not to have the wardrobe, the job or the overdraft to pay for business class so they will go for Eco Plus to get that much coveted extra legroom and seat width of course- most fatties suffer bagpeel, their overweight ballbags sticking to the side of the thigh in the style of a cardboard Vienetta box sticking to a poorly maintained freezer and needing to be ripped right off. Fat birds always have those massive norks and don't know what a brassiere is so the extra width of the seat will stop them swinging into the passenger next to them like a wibbly wobbly wrecking ball. There is also a bit extra food on there too. I discovered this when I flew economy plus as I used to be married to a right gobshite who paid for economy plus. He comes into our next category...
Small Man Syndrome
I have nothing against small men as height isn't the first thing I notice when I look at him- fitness is an attitude, a complete package you see- but my ex-husband had a bad case of small man syndrome. He was 5'8 which I don't think is small at all, but it bothered him to the point that he would lie on medical forms about his size and buy trousers too big for him which would be trailing the floor! He also complained about the legroom on most flights and insisted on Economy Plus as a way of asserting his 'manhood'. He couldn't afford the big car, so Eco Plus it had to be instead. Small Man Syndrome sufferers usually are a trolley dolly's worst nightmare too- they tend to pick on the smaller, younger hosties and call them bitches, constantly sending drinks back and pressing that damn callbell. They are the ones who do the check in staff's head in too, demanding the exit row or an aisle seat as 'I am sooo tall and I get cramp in my legs' and when this tactic fails, they use the old 'weak bladder' excuse as 'I am constantly needing the toilet and don't want to disturb my fellow passengers'. Yawn.
Nouveau Riche Chav wannabe
Eco Plus is full of chavs, for some inexplicable reason this is always on Vuuuurgin flights from Manchestuurrr to Orlanduuurrr and are mainly from Sauff Yaaarkshuurr. They probably have decided to upgrade as they have just cashed their sovereigns in on Cash for Gold or sent a load of 90s trance CDs to Music Magpie or their relative has invented yet another fake illness to sue their former employer at the mines/steelworks/biscuit factory. They want to show their bumpkin mates and 'those posh cunts from darn Sarf' that Yaarkshire folk are just as good as everyone else and wear their wealth by wearing their tracksuits to fly Eco Plus. Needless to say, they make the most of the free flowing ale on board. Chantelle, Tyler and Keeley are all rat arsed before they're out of UK airspace!
To summarise:
1. If you can't extend your penis, go Economy Plus
2. Yorkshire people call Orlando Orlandurrr
3. The Prince of Dubai is frigging fit
Most 'proper' airlines offer something called economy plus which is basically the gooch of business and economy class. If you don't know what a gooch is, then go and read a travelogue from a twatty Daily Mail reporter instead. Economy plus is cheaper than business but has more legroom than economy and maybe an extra snack thrown in which leads us to our first Economy Plus twat....
The Foxtrot Bravo
Airline staff know that is the not so secretive codename we give to our lardy passengers, short for Fat Barsteward. Most Foxtrot Bravos live off benefits and tend not to have the wardrobe, the job or the overdraft to pay for business class so they will go for Eco Plus to get that much coveted extra legroom and seat width of course- most fatties suffer bagpeel, their overweight ballbags sticking to the side of the thigh in the style of a cardboard Vienetta box sticking to a poorly maintained freezer and needing to be ripped right off. Fat birds always have those massive norks and don't know what a brassiere is so the extra width of the seat will stop them swinging into the passenger next to them like a wibbly wobbly wrecking ball. There is also a bit extra food on there too. I discovered this when I flew economy plus as I used to be married to a right gobshite who paid for economy plus. He comes into our next category...
Small Man Syndrome
I have nothing against small men as height isn't the first thing I notice when I look at him- fitness is an attitude, a complete package you see- but my ex-husband had a bad case of small man syndrome. He was 5'8 which I don't think is small at all, but it bothered him to the point that he would lie on medical forms about his size and buy trousers too big for him which would be trailing the floor! He also complained about the legroom on most flights and insisted on Economy Plus as a way of asserting his 'manhood'. He couldn't afford the big car, so Eco Plus it had to be instead. Small Man Syndrome sufferers usually are a trolley dolly's worst nightmare too- they tend to pick on the smaller, younger hosties and call them bitches, constantly sending drinks back and pressing that damn callbell. They are the ones who do the check in staff's head in too, demanding the exit row or an aisle seat as 'I am sooo tall and I get cramp in my legs' and when this tactic fails, they use the old 'weak bladder' excuse as 'I am constantly needing the toilet and don't want to disturb my fellow passengers'. Yawn.
Nouveau Riche Chav wannabe
Eco Plus is full of chavs, for some inexplicable reason this is always on Vuuuurgin flights from Manchestuurrr to Orlanduuurrr and are mainly from Sauff Yaaarkshuurr. They probably have decided to upgrade as they have just cashed their sovereigns in on Cash for Gold or sent a load of 90s trance CDs to Music Magpie or their relative has invented yet another fake illness to sue their former employer at the mines/steelworks/biscuit factory. They want to show their bumpkin mates and 'those posh cunts from darn Sarf' that Yaarkshire folk are just as good as everyone else and wear their wealth by wearing their tracksuits to fly Eco Plus. Needless to say, they make the most of the free flowing ale on board. Chantelle, Tyler and Keeley are all rat arsed before they're out of UK airspace!
To summarise:
1. If you can't extend your penis, go Economy Plus
2. Yorkshire people call Orlando Orlandurrr
3. The Prince of Dubai is frigging fit
Friday 3 January 2014
Thick cunts and practical jokes
Practical jokes are one thing that can make a working day go so much quicker, especially if the joke is on a thick new colleague! Flying is no different to any other job, we LOVE practical jokes here, unless you work for Lufthansa or Flybe that is, where the joke is looking back in the mirror at you. Here are some of our faves:
The Long Stand- an oldie but a goodie. I can't believe people still fall for it, so it's best playing it on some wet behind the ears 20 year old or someone who speaks English as a second language. Rumour has it that a planeload of passengers missed their flight because the pilot never came back after his long stand. I'm not going to describe what happens in a long stand, because if you need that explaining to you, then you are a fucking hopeless bastard.
Petrol Points- The pilot will give the new cabin crew his BP points card and tell her to tell the refueller to add some points to it. Yes, the thick twats fall for it every time.
Safety Demo- the perfect opportunity to make a show of someone in front of a planeload of people. Fill their lifejacket with sugar or drink stirrers. Stick a page 3 girl inside the safety card for the plane to ogle/laugh at. Put something foul smelling in the oxygen mask. Put glue in the seatbelt so the poor twat cannot open it, looking like a right awkward numpty.
Locking someone in the bog- When your new recruit is doing the toilet check or on the toilet, lock them in by lifting up the flap that says 'lavatory' on the door and putting a 1 euro coin in the lock. They can't get out, no matter how hard they try!!! It's funny!!
Posh wank- fill a condom with liquid soap, leave it in the toilet and send them in to do a toilet check
Napkin Service- give a dopey looking new recruit a load of napkins and a pair of tongs and tell her to give each passenger a napkin before landing. She'll love this if it's a budget airline, she'll think she's been promoted to Emirates!
The Long Stand- an oldie but a goodie. I can't believe people still fall for it, so it's best playing it on some wet behind the ears 20 year old or someone who speaks English as a second language. Rumour has it that a planeload of passengers missed their flight because the pilot never came back after his long stand. I'm not going to describe what happens in a long stand, because if you need that explaining to you, then you are a fucking hopeless bastard.
Petrol Points- The pilot will give the new cabin crew his BP points card and tell her to tell the refueller to add some points to it. Yes, the thick twats fall for it every time.
Safety Demo- the perfect opportunity to make a show of someone in front of a planeload of people. Fill their lifejacket with sugar or drink stirrers. Stick a page 3 girl inside the safety card for the plane to ogle/laugh at. Put something foul smelling in the oxygen mask. Put glue in the seatbelt so the poor twat cannot open it, looking like a right awkward numpty.
Locking someone in the bog- When your new recruit is doing the toilet check or on the toilet, lock them in by lifting up the flap that says 'lavatory' on the door and putting a 1 euro coin in the lock. They can't get out, no matter how hard they try!!! It's funny!!
Posh wank- fill a condom with liquid soap, leave it in the toilet and send them in to do a toilet check
Napkin Service- give a dopey looking new recruit a load of napkins and a pair of tongs and tell her to give each passenger a napkin before landing. She'll love this if it's a budget airline, she'll think she's been promoted to Emirates!
Female Pilots
Hi passengers! Long time no see- I've been a bit quiet of late and you've probably been waiting longer for me to post than a young Flight Deck Floozie waits for her Viagra-induced sugar daddy to shoot his load! Anyway, a lot of my male passengers have been asking me one of life's mysterious questions- what are female pilots like? Are they as randy as male pilots or are they a bunch of Clare Balding body doubles?
Like real pilots (sorry, I was a 1950s man of the house there for a bit) and air hostesses, female pilots have different breeds too. Let us begin with the obvious one...
The Female PILF
The female PILF is a right little minx. Usually blonde, British and horsey posh or curvaceous Latina, the female PILF confuses both lads and girls with her mix of beauty and brains. She is Barbie in a man's world. Don't be fooled though, some of them can be right slags but get away with it thanks to their high salary (they ain't no golddiggers) and their combination of posh accent and intellect. Put it this way, you'd never hear a female PILF speaking South Yaaarkshire while watching TOWIE. These broads get their kicks by prickteasing the straight male air hosts, sending out the wrong signals and humiliating the poor bastards behind their backs, telling Base Captain Nigel and her male colleagues the shite chat up lines they come out with. As IF a female pilot would date someone in an orange uniform called Wayne from Bishops Stortford or some other shithole.
The Aviator
This female pilot is a figure to be respected. Never one to talk about her personal life, the Aviator is strictly that. Her first love is planes and people usually assume she is of the lesbian variety but she keeps her cards close to her chest. The conversation is strictly work work work but will play hard with the rest of the crew downroute. A great shoulder to cry on and will always stand up for you and the rest of the crew, the Aviator is the female pilot to admire.
The Token One
All employers deny it, but of course they have to stick to a quota of employing certain minority groups otherwise they'll get their arse sued. In this case, the minority group in question is the ladies. The Token One is usually a mediocre to shit pilot and if it were a man, she'd be sacked on the spot for her conduct. A bad team player (unless the team are men), ditzy and always moaning about that time of the month, The Token One is prone to pulling sickies and barely gets dragged into the office as 'she knows her rights'. She's the one who uses the autopilot to land. Believe me, I've been sat in the back and got my dinner all over me on landing thanks to that cow.
The Butch One
Yes, that old stereotype. There are butch female pilots to complement the dainty air hosts. A winning team. The Butch One is a great mate for lecherous old captains as they can discuss booze and birds together and can drink even the roughest, Yorkshirest Jet2 baggage handler under the table. They're damn good pilots too!
So to summarise:
1. Female pilots can be flight deck floozies too and have probably all joined the mile high club
2. Female pilots are real pilots too and don't have to make the tea and coffee for the captain
3. Yorkshire people are rough and don't tend to work as pilots
Like real pilots (sorry, I was a 1950s man of the house there for a bit) and air hostesses, female pilots have different breeds too. Let us begin with the obvious one...
The Female PILF
The female PILF is a right little minx. Usually blonde, British and horsey posh or curvaceous Latina, the female PILF confuses both lads and girls with her mix of beauty and brains. She is Barbie in a man's world. Don't be fooled though, some of them can be right slags but get away with it thanks to their high salary (they ain't no golddiggers) and their combination of posh accent and intellect. Put it this way, you'd never hear a female PILF speaking South Yaaarkshire while watching TOWIE. These broads get their kicks by prickteasing the straight male air hosts, sending out the wrong signals and humiliating the poor bastards behind their backs, telling Base Captain Nigel and her male colleagues the shite chat up lines they come out with. As IF a female pilot would date someone in an orange uniform called Wayne from Bishops Stortford or some other shithole.
The Aviator
This female pilot is a figure to be respected. Never one to talk about her personal life, the Aviator is strictly that. Her first love is planes and people usually assume she is of the lesbian variety but she keeps her cards close to her chest. The conversation is strictly work work work but will play hard with the rest of the crew downroute. A great shoulder to cry on and will always stand up for you and the rest of the crew, the Aviator is the female pilot to admire.
The Token One
All employers deny it, but of course they have to stick to a quota of employing certain minority groups otherwise they'll get their arse sued. In this case, the minority group in question is the ladies. The Token One is usually a mediocre to shit pilot and if it were a man, she'd be sacked on the spot for her conduct. A bad team player (unless the team are men), ditzy and always moaning about that time of the month, The Token One is prone to pulling sickies and barely gets dragged into the office as 'she knows her rights'. She's the one who uses the autopilot to land. Believe me, I've been sat in the back and got my dinner all over me on landing thanks to that cow.
The Butch One
Yes, that old stereotype. There are butch female pilots to complement the dainty air hosts. A winning team. The Butch One is a great mate for lecherous old captains as they can discuss booze and birds together and can drink even the roughest, Yorkshirest Jet2 baggage handler under the table. They're damn good pilots too!
So to summarise:
1. Female pilots can be flight deck floozies too and have probably all joined the mile high club
2. Female pilots are real pilots too and don't have to make the tea and coffee for the captain
3. Yorkshire people are rough and don't tend to work as pilots
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