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Mobile phones in the air are virgin’ on plane ridiculous

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Dear Sir Richard Branson, What have you done? Seriously, what the hell have you done?

Hopefully Sir Richard will install these on his aircraft

I admire your stunning business acumen, your ballooning skills, your outrageous PR stunts,
I’ve bought many Virgin records over the years – in fact I still have an original vinyl copy of Never Mind The Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols. Love your work.

However, what’s this about allowing mobile phone calls on Virgin Atlantic flights? Tell me you’re taking the piss.

Cramming hundreds of people into a flying metal tube for endless hours is fraught with social problems as it is – screaming brat children kicking the back of your seat, rabid seat recliners, dickheads cramming everything they own in the overhead storage cabin so there’s no room for your stuff, über-backpack wielding morons dislocating shoulders as they bump their way up the aisle, farting businessmen, the list is endless.

Now you want to add annoying expletives-making phone calls? I beseech thee, please reconsider.

“I’m on the plane… yeah, I’m on the plane! Hang on, I’ll look out the window, yeah, no… I think we’re flying over eastern Siberia. Is Aaahliya there? Hello sweetheart, it’s daddy. Yeah, I’m on the plane…”.

Or: “We need to have some face-time on the core competency, but if we buy-in and open the kimono and get some leverage, I think it will be scalable…”.

You can only imagine the riveting conversations you’ll have to endure. You will feel like ripping your ears off, and ramming them down their throat to muffle the noise.

Sir Richard, there is a reason the other airlines put the kybosh on this insanity. No one wants to sit next to someone using a mobile phone. Sure I don’t have to fly your airline, but if you go ahead with this madness, the others might reconsider, and then life will end as we know it.

Might I suggest if this does happen, your flight attendants hand out baseball bats and parachutes.

Words ©Steve Williams 2012

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*This piece was published in the sadly now defunct The Punch by news.com.au

Catte Latte

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It may have been a glimpse into my future as an old man — enjoying a coffee surrounded by a collection of cats, walking and sitting all over the furniture and me. In the darker vision of my future, I die and the cats, to which I have been a loving companion and provider, couldn’t care less about all that providing and loving, and proceed to eat me. Thankfully the felines at Café Gio Cat in Seoul were only interested in some heavy petting. I have to admit, being that up close and personal with so many extremely friendly felines was quite a surreal experience — kind of like a furry version of Hitchcock’s The Birds.

Café Gio Cat is very well organised — you pay the entrance fee (8,000 won which includes a drink), wash your hands with sanitiser, exchange your shoes for slipper / thong arrangements and leave your bags in a locker. I suppose they don’t want you leaving with a Russian Blue as a stowaway.

There were about thirty cats sprawled and lounging in that rather aloof cat way, seemingly oblivious to the interlopers. When my wife and I arrived we had the place to ourselves, so we ordered a coffee and the instant we sat down a furry person claimed our laps. There were quite a few different breeds wandering around — Persians and Scottish Folds — and there was one old guy who looked like the hirsute lovechild of Mr. Bigglesworth from Austin Powers and Kenny from South Park (first time I’ve seen a cat sporting a hoodie). Kenny Bigglesworth took a shine to me, and even though my lap was occupied, he managed to scout out a position and repel any other invaders.

We were there for about an hour or so, a few other people arrived, but it wasn’t crowded, there are quite a few tables. The cats are extremely well looked after and obviously spoilt rotten, copping roughly fifty million pats a day. There are a few other cat cafes in Seoul, I might check them out next time, but if you’re a cat person, you’ll love Café Gio Cat. It’s not the easiest place to find, in the Hongdae area, right near Hongik University. The full address is a bit of a mouthful, but these links will point you in the right direction:

You’ll need to brush up on your Korean for the official website http://cafe.daum.net/giocat or you can visit the Korea Tourism site: http://bit.ly/yE5al7

Read about my experience in a Japanese cat cafe: Catte Latte 2 — This Time It’s Impersonal

Words and Images ©Steve Williams 2012


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We all turn into cliched stereotypes on holiday

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You meet a lot of interesting people on holidays. Well when I say “meet”, I mean observing people from a safe distance and mercilessly taking the piss if warranted.

I would have smirked if he fell

I stayed at a rather nice beach resort in Malaysia over Christmas and it was simultaneously a pleasurable and fascinating experience. I think the five stars were awarded for the characters that were staying there.

It really was a microcosm of humanity, mixed with sand and the odd Pina Colada. In no particular order we had the delightful Poms from Bogan-On-Trent who thought the dress code in the restaurant where breakfast was served was footwear optional. I love the look of tinea in the morning.

As well as not being able to afford shoes, their pantry must be a bit light on, because each morning they would they would knock off the teabags and sugar sachets from the table.

They must prescribe to the hotel buffet school of thought that “I’ve paid for it, so I can have it”. Similar to the family I saw at a hotel seafood buffet in Singapore stuffing prawns and oysters into Tupperware containers they coincidentally had on them. As you do.

I was wondering how to get the dining chairs into my suitcase.

I also have a bit to learn from the people (stereotypically Germans, though I’ve never actually seen a Teutonic type do this) who bags a sun lounge by the pool at about 3.24am, and then turn up to use them at 3.25pm.

Speaking of sun lounges, the Natasha twins with their “uncle” Boris (I suggest the ladies were on an hourly rate, and yes, I admit my range of Russian names is garnered from watching “Rocky and Bullwinkle”), weren’t content with their three sun lounges, they thought they’d take over the adjoining ones as well.

Their $4,000 Louis Vuitton handbags and over-sized sunglasses obviously needed a tan.

Also providing a bit of cheek, literally at the resort was “Arse Boy”. We encountered this middle-aged bandanna and budgie smuggler wearing “dude” by the pool, who pulled said budgies halfway up his date to get some sun on his bum and proceeded to strike poses like a cross between a Bondi lifesaver and the centerfold for Playgirl magazine’s special Wedgie edition.

Thanks for that mate, talk about New Moon. Another highlight was the bloke who pranked his son with the hilarious game called “Let’s Pretend Daddy’s Dead”. He would float, face down, legs and arms akimbo in the classic drowned position in the kids pool. His seven-ish year old son, obviously concerned, started anxiously poking him, saying the word “Daddy” in ever increasing degrees of concern.

Only when he thought his son had reached the right level of hysteria, the guy stood up, pissing himself laughing. What a strange man. He must have great fun at home lying in a bath filled with red food dye clutching a razor blade.

There were plenty of other characters, “Blue Leg Boy”, “Buns of Steel”, and the wannabe bikini supermodel with her wannabe bikini supermodel photographer, as well as the usual pasty white bodies basting themselves in baby oil, so they can return to their -14 degrees European snow-bound homes boasting the trophy tan (and third degree burns).

My pick are the people who feel it necessary to take those Hindenburg size inflatable pool toys on holiday with them. I saw someone being crushed in the pool by a life-size blowup killer whale, but then again it could have been another round of “Let’s Pretend Daddy’s Dead”.

Words and image ©Steve Williams 2012

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*This piece was published in the sadly now defunct The Punch by news.com.au

Dear people of the world: aquatic bread ban

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Dear people of the world. This might come as a slight shock, but the natural diet of animals that live in ponds and lakes in parks doesn’t consist of bread. I know, me too.

I realise it’s rather amusing and / or cute to watch fish, ducks, swans, turtles, etcetera swim over as you reach into the bag containing your loaf of processed-to-buggery white bread, but could you not?

Surprisingly, these animals have survived for a very large number with lots of zeros without dining on bread offerings. But, you may argue what about those turtles that ate pizza? Yes, good point, but they are comic book characters and therefore not real.

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If you want to commit carbocide by overdosing on the endless breadbasket at your favourite buffet restaurant, knock yourself out, that’s your choice, but the average pond-dwelling turtle doesn’t have one — so it would be really great if you could stop chucking bits of bread at him / her and our other watery friends.

Thank you.

©Steve Williams 2012