BEFORE I joined the pale blue and grey-shirted world of journalism I used to play guitar in a slightly more colourful punk band.
Our drummer, Rob, was an 18-stone brick outhouse of a bloke who would wallop his skins and cymbals with considerable violence. This wasn’t unusual. Most tub-thumpers in the world of punk and heavy metal do the same – and the manufacturers of drum skins and drumsticks build their products to withstand the abuse.
One day Rob came into the practice room with a box of sticks. For the price of a pair he’d bought about five sets.
Within about two songs first blood was drawn. A severed chunk of Rob’s left-hand stick came flying across the room. And within two weeks most of his new purchases were lying in the bin cracked, splintered and split. They were cheap in the extreme because they were probably made of matchwood. But Rob knew he’d got his money’s worth and didn’t complain.
A few years later my mate, Dabber, and I sat aboard a plane, belonging to ultra-budget airline Ryanair. We were bound for Madrid.
People were chuntering about the cramped conditions, the non-reclining seats and the barrage of advertising and sales patter. Before the flight, passengers were moaning about being charged for exceeding their luggage allowance.
Initially I empathised. But as my mind touched down on earth once more, I lost all sympathy for those short-sighted complainers.
Like us they’d paid £20 to fly return from Liverpool.
Yes, Ryanair was constantly trying to sell us burgers, scratch cards and newspapers but we exerted something people rarely exert with their wallets – restraint. We managed to pass the two hours on board without dying of starvation, thirst or boredom.
We didn’t get charged for our luggage because we can both read and follow instructions. When Mr Ryanair, Michael O’Leary, says he’ll charge you for an oversized suitcase he really means it.
But the number of times we saw people turn up with a trunk and expect to take it on board at no extra cost was astounding. But that’s no bad thing. I’m delighted to have people who don’t read the instructions inadvertently subsidising my air fares.
Because that’s part of the business model. It’s also cheap because everything, apart from the flight and the oxygen supply, is extra.
You might think the baggage allowance is mean but it’s no meaner than the customer who won’t pay extra for a flight with a full-service airline.
Yes, the customer service may be a bit rough around the edges, the cabin is full of gaudy adverts and the seats are made of squeaky fake leather. But so what? You’re on the plane for a couple of hours of your life and at the end of the flight you’ll be on holiday.
Our experience with Ryanair was not pleasurable but neither was it unbearable. And I’d fly Ryanair again because it was cheaper – not to mention quicker and more comfortable – than a train trip to most parts of the United Kingdom.
The flight could never have been considered a ‘rip-off’, even if passengers had been stripped naked, bound to the wings and whipped for the entire flight.
On Skytrax, ‘the World’s largest airline review site’ the whinge-bags are all queuing up to knock Ryanair. But they’ll be back filling Mr O’Leary’s pockets when they can’t find a cheaper flight elsewhere. And, unlike drummer Rob, they’ll be complaining again that they’re not getting their money’s worth.
