FLRIGHT

At the back of the plane

Where the poor are contained

Seats are narrow with leg room constricted.

If you’ve something to do

like go to the loo

You must stand with your rear end well sphinctered.

If there’s one thing I hate

It’s those who come late

and smile as they walk through the door.

They’re often in business

They’re always pretentious

Who cares if the rest wait some more?

Your meals (should you get them)

Cause similar problems

like cutting with plastic too thin.

But the first of your tests

Is to choose which is best:

The contents or what they are served in.

“We’re dimming the lights

For the rest of the flight,

Get some sleep,” comes advice from the crews.

So you practice contortion

Your spine in distortion

While in first class they stretch out and snooze.

But why should I scream

When I sit ten abeam?

We all get there at the same time.

Of course, we poor wait

While the rich ones vacate

And economy crushes in line.

I remember when young

Flying seemed much much more fun.

We could actually sit with crossed legs.

They talk about budgets

And how little it costs us

What are we? We’re just the dregs.

So what can you do

Assuming that you

Are one of those squashed down the back.

You could wed someone wealthy

Make your bank account healthy...

Or hide in a carry on bag.

But all bags are weighed

And check in staff paid

To ensure they’re below seven kilos.

So unless you’re in nappies

Or mega thin chappies

Get used to it.