Alzi
Well-known member
Flying back from Malaga after a stag do a few years back. My guts were worse for wear after 4 days of boozing and terrible food.
I was a broken man but very relieved that the inevitable trouser trumpet was silent but straight away the stench hit me. I can only describe it as a mixture of cabbage and death. I knew straight away I’d unleashed chemical warfare on the occupants of this sealed container.
The best man had made a bit of a hash of the seat bookings and I was sitting next to a pleasant elderly couple on their way home from their holiday.
The first I knew about the commotion that was to follow was a frenzied cough from the lady next to me who accusingly looked at her dear old husband and quietly whispered “I hope that wasn’t you for gods sake Robin!”
Not so quietly a hard looking bloke directly behind me became hostile. “Who the **** was that? Was that you Callum?” He shouted at his bemused teenage son.
I sink into my seat and stare out of the window intensely as the toxic cloud spreads and people begin looking around aghast. Then murmured discussions then more choking and then uproar as the realisation that the recycled air in the tin can meant that there was no escape from this fresh hell for at least the next hour until landing.
A stewardess hearing the commotion soon arrives and through a veiled look of disgust fields away complaints professionally and promises to come back with an air freshener.
I sheepishly make eye contact with the couple next to me and we share a tut and shake of the head. I think I have got away with it!
The murmured discussions continue for some time as passengers hold an impromptu traitors like meeting to try and identify the culprit but thankfully the consensus is that it was likely Callum (despite his protests) as his dad tells everyone he has form, especially when tucking into foreign food.
I was a broken man but very relieved that the inevitable trouser trumpet was silent but straight away the stench hit me. I can only describe it as a mixture of cabbage and death. I knew straight away I’d unleashed chemical warfare on the occupants of this sealed container.
The best man had made a bit of a hash of the seat bookings and I was sitting next to a pleasant elderly couple on their way home from their holiday.
The first I knew about the commotion that was to follow was a frenzied cough from the lady next to me who accusingly looked at her dear old husband and quietly whispered “I hope that wasn’t you for gods sake Robin!”
Not so quietly a hard looking bloke directly behind me became hostile. “Who the **** was that? Was that you Callum?” He shouted at his bemused teenage son.
I sink into my seat and stare out of the window intensely as the toxic cloud spreads and people begin looking around aghast. Then murmured discussions then more choking and then uproar as the realisation that the recycled air in the tin can meant that there was no escape from this fresh hell for at least the next hour until landing.
A stewardess hearing the commotion soon arrives and through a veiled look of disgust fields away complaints professionally and promises to come back with an air freshener.
I sheepishly make eye contact with the couple next to me and we share a tut and shake of the head. I think I have got away with it!
The murmured discussions continue for some time as passengers hold an impromptu traitors like meeting to try and identify the culprit but thankfully the consensus is that it was likely Callum (despite his protests) as his dad tells everyone he has form, especially when tucking into foreign food.
