The air hostess, mature & kind,
Draws the veil across the aisle
To keep us out of sight & mind
With an apologetic smile.
But up in Club Class, shielded thus
By the Velcro’d curtain’s locks
From the sight & stench of us
I wonder - do they yank their cocks,
Piss in each other’s mouths, fellate
Businessmen from Amsterdam,
Filthily manipulate
Savage instruments and ram
Their bulbous & bejewelled knobs
Up the anuses of chaps
Off to terminate the jobs
Of thousands in the Ruhr? Perhaps
That couple coupling in row three
Across the seats marked D to F
who harmonise in ecstasy
In screams above a treble clef
Are in a start-up in AI
Who’ll meet investors in Milan
Once past their wild climatic high
Which they’re now passing with elan!
And now the ululations drown
Out the engine noise! What now?
The air stewards are dragging down
The aisle a garlanded young cow!
How did those onyx knives get past
Security? Those dark libations
Are not from duty free! Aghast
At strange & foul sets of vibrations
Accompanying the screams & howls
That come from beyond curtains plush,
In Economy our rumbling bowels
Inspire us all to rise and rush
And storm Club Class, those scenes Tiberian
The Five Mile High Club’s devotees
Enact in skies Gallic, Iberian,
Teutonic or above the seas
Towards which this plane starts to plummet!
Our forward rush has set askew
Our balance, from celestial summit
To Earth’s embrace! The cabin crew
Use billy clubs & scented towels
In vain attempts to calm the room;
Instead they set off louder howls
As we all realise our doom!
The plane crashes! The fuselage
Splits in half just like a gourd!
The front half being by & large
The Club Class section, and aboard
Sit its denizens, now sated,
Laughing as our back half sinks
While we all drown, quite irritated
They’re being served more free drinks.