Soapbox: Con Air


Paul Fennessy vents his wrath on Ryanair… and boy, can he vent it

Once upon a time, during a brief sojourn Stateside, I came across an intriguing spectacle. A group of American jocular types were engaging in the rather exotic exercise (for them at least) which basically consisted of their playing a game of rugby. It was, quite frankly, the most retarded thing I’d ever seen. Tries were replaced with touchdowns, scrums seemed a mere excuse for these supremely macho individuals to unleash their inveterate homoerotic impulses, etc.


Anyway, their cluelessness is kind of reminiscent of how Ryanair (a.k.a. ‘them thieves with superior flying capabilities’) operates, except that the latter group tends to do it on a daily, hourly, minutely basis.

Seriously, in order to avoid the relentless world of pain they promulgate, next time I’m flying I intend to inject undue levels of morphine into my bloodstream and insist that compatriots carry my drug addled body onto the plane if necessary… or, alternatively, simply fly with another airline. Either would be good.

Here’s a sample conversation experienced by yours truly with one of Ryanair’s many resident geniuses: “I’m sorry, sir, the runway has been closed off due to the icy weather.” “But how come all the other airlines’ planes are flying? In fact, I can see Michael O’Leary doing Top Gun-style stunts along the runway right now!” “I’m sorry sir; the runway has been closed off due to the icy weather.” “But you just said…” “Terrorist! Terrorist!”

You see, there’s this theory which we shall just call ‘the truth’ (c’mon, we’re practically a tabloid paper now, we’re allowed this kind of leeway). The truth is this: Ryanair is in actual fact a clever guise for the greatest, most prolonged, most ingenious con act of all time.

My lingering suspicions that they were really just Hitler, Stalin and Mugabe all rolled into one were confirmed in one fell swoop. This epiphany arose when a check-in desk girl informed me that, in order to compensate for my missed flight and book another one, I would be required to pay an additional €80 solely due to their own gross incompetence. I promptly informed her that she represented the precise incarnation of Hitler, Stalin and Mugabe all rolled into one. To my immense satisfaction, she promptly cried.

In all seriousness, there is ample need for a mass boycott of the chaos, commercial-suicide and despair which Ryanair specialises in. Why not spend an evening or two eating bananas with monkeys instead? It’s bound to be more intellectually stimulating and less frustrating than acknowledging the unfortunate existence of their inbred administrators.