Ryanair Hates Bloggers - It's Official

Most of my readers will know of and about Ryanair, the Irish low-cost, no-frills airline which treats its passengers like something you stand on in the street.

Now, I have to say at this juncture that I have only flown Ryanair once, several years ago, when wise to their pathetic attempt to con passengers by stating that Prestwick was in fact, Glasgow Prestwick (it’s about 30 miles away in another county!), I took their flight because I actually wanted to go to Prestwick. The flight was ok as I recall. Not late, and as it was only a flight of about 1 hour, there were no real problems. So I have no real gripe, personally, about Ryanair, or Ruinair, as one guy calls it.

However, if Ryanair was a normal business, the amount of bad publicity it gets, would drive the company to the wall within weeks. I actually think that Michael O’Leary, it’s CEO, is probably the rudest head of a major company I’ve ever seen or heard. The guy is a complete lunatic when it comes to ‘the customer experience’, obviously instructing his staff to be as rude as possible to complaining customers, and to rip them off with every imaginable charge they can justify.

So, if I’ve not had any really bad experiences with Ruinair (don’t worry, I’m not biased, I call Easyjet – Sleazyjet), why am I devoting blog space to them? Well – it appears that a fellow blogger, an IT guy called Jason Roe, spotted a bug in Ruinair’s web site and put it in his blog posting. Note – he did not send anything to Ruinair, but obviously, one of the airline’s staff, who probably should have been dealing with customer (dis)service, was trawling the internet and came across it and wrote back to Mr Roe as follows (bad grammar and mistakes faithfully reprinted) :

"You’re an idiot and a liar!! fact is! you’ve opened one session then another and requested a page meant for a different session, you are so stupid you dont even know how you did it!"

"If you would work in your pathetic life on a such big project in a such busy environment with so little resources, you would know that the most important is to have usual user behavior scenarios working rather than spending time on improbable and harmless things.

Now, all companies have ‘rogue’ employees who feel the need to converse with their paying public in the manner above but when a travel magazine picked up the story and asked Ruinair for an official comment, they got the following:

"Ryanair can confirm that a Ryanair staff member did engage in a blog discussion. It is Ryanair policy not to waste time and energy in corresponding with idiot bloggers and Ryanair can confirm that it won’t be happening again. Lunatic bloggers can have the blog sphere all to themselves as our people are far too busy driving down the cost of air travel”.

Great, isn’t it. Were they having a bad day? Not one bit of it. Here are some other nice diplomatic statements from O’Leary, the CEO.

 “No, we shouldn’t give you a bloody cup of coffee. We only charge €19 for the ticket.”  - after being asked why, after a nine hour delay, the airline was charging for in-flight drinks.

“I’m always actually very pleasant, but don’t believe in trotting out all that PC claptrap just not to upset a couple of fucking environmental lunatics. They are just loons.” – when asked if he’d ever considered being pleasant.

 "I have always found it hard to feel sympathy with owners of holiday home owners. We are working hard to make travel affordable for everyone, not just those with homes in Tuscany and Chiantishire” – responding to comments about him scrapping popular holiday routes. 

So why do people flock to his airline? Is it to see if it’s really that bad? Is it masochists, lining up to be abused by Ruinair’s staff? After all, they’ve charged for wheelchairs. They ejected 8 blind people from a flight because ‘they were over their quota of disabled people’. They turfed off a Jamaican Steel band because they looked like a terrorist group.

So why do people flock to his airline? Is it to see if it’s really that bad? Is it masochists, lining up to be abused by Ruinair’s staff? After all, they’ve charged for wheelchairs. They ejected 8 blind people from a flight because ‘they were over their quota of disabled people’. They turfed off a Jamaican Steel band because they looked like a terrorist group.

Nope – people only fly Ruinair because it is probably the only airline flying the route and they’ve no choice.

See following link about various Ruinair escapades.

 http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/travel/news/article5795531.ece

Stop Press - Ryanair have announced that they are considering levying a charge for using the loos on board their planes.

 

David Cameron’s Son Dies – Aged Six

We all have our own views of politicians. I am more vociferous than many in thinking that most politicians are people who are not suited to normal business life and take the easy way out, but at the end of the day, they are human like the rest of us and as such they suffer the same joys and sadness that all of us do.  

Members of their families are born, grow up and die like all mortal beings but being part of families in the public spotlight, they normally live their lives in the gaze of the tabloids and their every waking (and sometimes nocturnal) moves are monitored and reported upon.

It was with great sadness then that David Cameron’s disabled son, Ivan, died last night.

When Cameron came to public prominence a few years ago, after taking over the leadership, of course we were introduced to his family. There was his wife, Samantha and his children, Nancy, Arthur and Ivan. There was the ‘green’ Cameron travelling to ‘work’ by bicycle but followed by a government Jaguar. The corporate history of Cameron was laid bare, detailing the time when he worked in television and was apparently a complete rotweiller, dealing with the press like they were pond life. There was the time when, in government, he was part of the treasury when UK Plc almost became broke due to the currency crisis (I remember it well as my mortgage went up to a staggering 15 percent) but all that has disappeared into the mists of time as he has become the supposed saviour of the UK at the next election.

Now politicians of all shapes and sizes usually, and unashamedly, use their families as a marketing tool. It’s good for Joe Public to see that the guy running the country has the same problems that they do and in the past we’ve had an overdose of Tony Blair shoving his family into the spotlight in order to garner public support. We’ve had them on Xmas cards. We’ve had the documentaries. We’ve unfortunately had Ewan Blair puking up in London after coming out of a club and prior to that we had John Major’s son marrying a model, who dumped him after his father lost the ‘top job’. All normal, family life.

But Cameron was different. People knew that his eldest son was severely disabled and apart from a few glances inside the family home as Cameron tried to embrace the internet age (home web cams), little was known of Ivan’s condition.

Last night he became ill and died within a relatively short time of being admitted to hospital. He suffered from ‘severe cerebral palsy and severe epilepsy’.

This morning, I’m afraid to say that when I switched the TV on there was a split picture of Cameron with Ivan (see picture above), and the plane crash at Amsterdam’s Schipol Airport. I chose to watch the report on the airline crash unaware of the story about Ivan. It was only when having lunch with my mate Ashley that I learned of the sad news.

Prime Minister’s questions, where Gordon Brown and David Cameron cross swords, was rightly cancelled today, but not before Brown issued this heartfelt statement about Ivan’s death……

"I know that in an all too brief life, he brought joy to all those around him and I know also that for all the days of his life, he was surrounded by his family's love. Every child is precious and irreplaceable and the death of a child is an unbearable sorrow that no parent should ever have to endure. Politics can sometimes divide us. But there is a common human bond that unites us in sympathy and compassion at times of trial and in support for each other at times of grief. The thoughts and prayers of the whole country are with David, Samantha and their family."

Gordon Brown unfortunately knows the grief of losing a child. He and his wife, Sarah, lost their first born, a little girl, Jennifer Jane, 10 days after she was born.  

It’s not often that Brown and Cameron are on the same wavelength but yesterday they would be bound together in grief.

My Wee Girl's In Paris

Kitty left for Paris on Sunday, flying up there with her friend, Agathe. Although quite cool about the whole thing (they're both only 12) you could tell she was excited as they would be travelling 'unaccompanied' and wouldn't have grown-ups telling them what to do at every turn. I tried to increase her excitement by asking her if she would be demanding a first-class upgrade on Air France as befits a classy lady who wears Prada, Gucci and Primark! No chance - you don't get upgrades with Air Miles! I also asked her if she was looking forward to the caviar and champagne which Air France would undoubtedly serve and she just giggled that lovely little giggle of hers.

Of course when she was packing for the trip, every little designer detail was not overlooked. The large 'Audrey Hepburn' type sunglasses, all her designer gear (bought from e-Bay), the Vans (some sort of shoes which we used to call plimsoles) and probably the Quicksilver stuff she bought in the States last April although I might be wrong about that because that gear would be nearly a year old and designer protiges don't wear anyhting more than a couple of times! Do they?

The Burberry bag was rescued from the bottom of a pile of bags and suitcases we have downstairs and no doubt would be placed on the baggage check-in desk with a flourish and then they would wander through to duty free like a couple of models. But, I thought, this wont happen. They'll be escorted through check-in by an Air France 'lady' and they'll be sat down in a section near the departure gate and watched like hawks.

Not a bit of it. J says that after they checked in they were sent through security on their own and off into the myriad of cafes, shops and departure gates, commonly known as 'airside' .

This worried me slightly as two 12-year olds being let loose in an airport causes the mind to wander off into all sorts of scenarios - none of them good. What if they get the gate wrong? What if they are in the shops when the last call is made? I needn't have worried. We got a call from Kitty after she landed in Paris where she was being met by Marielle, Agathe's mother.

And so they're in Paris for 1 week before Kitty flies back on her own on Saturday. She gathered up all her money obtained over the last year, changing any spare English notes into Euros at an exchange rate I did not recognise and no doubt would be heading for the Champs Elysee as soon as she woke on Monday morning. This girl is a serious shopper. Now where did she get that from I wonder?

So - Kitty, if you read this (very unlikely) have a wonderful week in Paris. We all miss you.

Picture is of Kitty and Agathe. Kitty is on the left.    

No Blog Today

No Blog today, I'm lying in bed

My nose is blocked up and swollen and red

It's sunny outside but I can't play

It's all to do with that stuff called 'Hay'

Sniffing all day and sneezing all night

I hope you all sympathise with my hay fever plight

I really cant breathe and Vick is no good

'You'll grow out of it at 12, you really should'

I remember those words as I sneezed over him

the doctor who held me and talked to my mum

and so it came back for the last 50 years

the gasping, the sneezing,the hay fever tears

So where did it come from, this latest attack

the old house it was, the tree at the back

it's a Cyprus you see and they are the worst

the pollen's so bad, my nose almost burst

I went over to Tan's to watch his team play

but the Cyprus was ready to ruin my day

outside the lounge doors, it stands 30 feet

ready to push me to a sneezing defeat

I sneezed and I sneezed, no wine could I drink

my nose was so blocked and my brain couldn't think

but Tan was ok, his team won the game

go outside for a fag? 'No thanks I'll refrain'

And so I got home, my nose full of pollen

Wasn't too late, just after eleven

I slipped under the duvet aside my snoozing wife

who said 'sneeze once more and I'll take your life'

I tried to sleep but with no nasal breathing

you gasp and you choke with your breast really heaving

I sneezed and I sneezed, Julie was crying

awake all night long, she found really trying

And so I got up at half past two

nothing on telly and nothing to do

my dear wife was happy, she could slumber at last

whilst I contemplated life's final gasp

Returning to bed at thirty minutes past four

It bugged me so much to hear my J snore

I tried and I tried but no sleep could I get

So I woke her and asked if we could swap sides in bed

She jumped out of bed and now I'm alone

frightened and scared in my very own home

Is she asleep my insomniac wife  

or has she gone for a big kitchen knife?

  

Happy Birthday and Happy Anniversary To Me

Yup – another milestone passed yesterday. My 58^th birthday  (am I really that old?), and my 1st wedding anniversary – all on the same day.

It was 1 year ago that J and I got married after 25 years of working out ‘if we were right for each other’. Nothing much has changed – we’re still as totally incompatible as ever. She doesn’t like me smoking my 2-3 cigarettes a day and I don’t like the mess she makes about the house. She thinks I’m mean and stingy (isn’t every Scotsman ?) and I think she spends like she’s won the lottery. Never the twain shall meet.

On a more positive note, our wedding seems like yesterday and I still look back upon it as a wonderful, wonderful day. Perfect really. Strangely, just like yesterday,  and I mean yesterday, the weather last year was amazing. After some rather dodgy days when the mist and rain threatened to ruin our ‘big day’, the sun was splitting the sky when we awoke on the morning of the 22^nd. That meant that we could take full advantage of the Marie’s (Town Hall) courtyard for the photos and our guests could wander around the Auberge’s gardens (main picture) before the wedding lunch.

What do I remember about the wedding?

I remember that all my family and friends flew in on the afternoon of the 21^st and we immediately started a 2^nd Stag Night in my bar at home (I had my 1^st stag night the previous week). I recall waking up the next morning and getting my sons and brother organised so we could make the Marie in time which was what they were supposed to be doing for me! My youngest son was actually still getting dressed as I drove them into the village! Note – I drove them!!!!

I remember J being about 20 minutes late for the ceremony and the Official who was performing the marriage, looking rather worried. I also remember, as our photographer asked us to pose in a rather naughty way on the ancient stairway of the Town Hall, the current Mayor passing us on his way to his office and wondering why a lady in a wedding dress was ‘groping’ a guy in a kilt just outside his official residence!

Then the lunch, which went like a dream. Our friend Sam had offered to do the flowers and the restaurant tables as a present, which was an amazingly original gift. The guests milled around on the various terraces of the Auberge in the scorching sunshine, drinking sparkling wine before we sat down to a delicious lunch.

One problem was that in an effort to get the guests out of my house and into the village on time, I had forgotten my speech, but sometimes it’s best to ‘wing’ it which is what I had to do. It seemed to go down well.

Later in the afternoon after having to ‘flash my bottom’ at an old French lady so she could establish if Scotsmen really do wear anything under their kilts, I started to relax and of course the wine and champagne took their toll. Taking a trip downstairs to the loos, I tripped and hurtled down the seven or so steps, straight through an unlocked cubicle door, and smack straight into the toilet cistern. I was bundled into a taxi and the next thing I remember is lying in bed with what I was sure was a broken nose. Luckily, a guest who was also a nurse, diagnosed it as nothing more than a bruise but that was the end of the wedding festivities, at least it was for me.

Waking up at about 2am and hearing all sorts of party noises going on, I looked out of the bedroom window to see my neighbours and my sons, still hard at it. Good for them I thought, I’ll get back to bed and my new wife. But she wasn’t there. I was on my own.

I went to the bathroom for a wee and there lying in the bath was my ‘best man’ and brother, Robert, completely comatose. I just left him there and went back to bed.

The next morning as people assembled for breakfast, it turned out that my new wife did not fancy (a) sleeping with a guy who was complaining loudly about his ‘broken nose’ and (b) sleeping in the ‘honeymoon suite’ whilst her new brother-in-law was only feet away snoring loudly in the bath!

It was a great day. See all the pictures at the following link. There’s quite a few duplicates – don’t ask me why. Depending on how you view them you might see some commentary.

http:/ /picasaweb.google.co.uk/tom.cupples/TomJulieSWedding?authkey=qLGMhXMKA9M#5259529482465778434