The gammon's guide to flying in the age of Covid-19

WORRIED about traveling with Covid-19 still knocking around? Follow puce-faced bellend Norman Steele’s tips to make flying a nightmare for all:

Arrive early

Not to make sure check-in goes smoothly for you and everyone else, of course, but so you can get in a decent 20-minute argument with security over whether their metal detector’s on the blink when you know for a fact it’s being set off by your titanium hip.

Bag a whole row of seats

Make sure any snowflake sissy intending to sit beside you runs screaming by brandishing the Daily Mail that you picked up in duty-free alongside your bottle of flying scotch. Even the most hardy of flyers will ask to be moved when you start sharing your ‘no-nonsense’ views after a few swigs.

Refuse to wear a face mask

If anyone around you is uncomfortable with your exposed wheezing mouth then they should move. You won’t be forced to wear any mask you don’t want to, including that weird one that drops down if the plane suddenly depressurises.

Complain about the service

Only shell out for a budget airline and spend the entire flight loudly complaining about how terrible the experience is compared to British Airways, for example: ‘This is shit, I heard on Facebook that the cabin crew wash your hands for you on good old BA.’

Make using the toilet a battle

Spend the entire flight waiting for the one moment the ‘seatbelts on’ sign flashes up to heave your scotch-filled, wobbling body out of your seat. Turbulence or not, it’s your right to piss all over the toilet cubicle if you want to. When an air steward tries to reason with you, yell at them incoherently about not kowtowing to the rules of their EU overlords.

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It'll all be over by Christmas, says confident posh f**kwit who'll build you a nice memorial

A BLITHELY ignorant aristocratic f**khead has declared that the whole thing killing everyone will all be over by Christmas so no need to worry. 

The upper-class twit who likes big fancy dinners and privately-educated totty has confirmed that he will throw away your lives like pocket change then do you a nice stone memorial after.

He continued: “I may not fully understand what’s going on but I shan’t let that stop me.

“On August 1st I will order you all over the top into the jaws of death, ie back to the office, because we must save Subway, Pret A Manger, Barburrito and Southern Railways.

“A month after that your children will all return to the trenches because they’re fine, it’s probably not infectious, and you’ve all got herd immunity! A herd, like cattle. Like that Wilfred Owen poem I did at Eton.

“There’s no need whatsoever to be concerned that you’ll all be mown down in your millions and the survivors traumatised for life as this drags on for four years. How could that happen?

“They’ll be lovely memorials. There will be one in every town, covered in names. Anyway! Christmas to look forward to!”