There’s a trio of Jolly Thirty-somethings making a fuss at the back of the plane. They are all (two men and a woman) very well dressed and handsome and speak more loudly than anyone else, just as they have done since their arrival in the departure lounge. Their plummy vowels carry effortlessly down the fuselage. The stewardess leads them down the aisle to the seats immediately in front of us and her apologetic tones lead me to believe that they were not happy sitting where they were. The strikingly beautiful woman gushes her gratitude for being allowed to escape the ‘smelly feet’ at the back.
Laughing and joking, the three tumble into the empty seats if front of us, causing my tea to spill onto the tray and thence onto my lap. Sarah and I look at each other and shake our heads in disbelief.
I mop up my dripping tray and settle down to brew up a really smelly fart.