http://www.amazon.co.uk/Trollied-Return-Hostesses-Handbook-ebook/dp/B0081UF3OY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1336734554&sr=1-1

If you do not have a Kindle, just add the Kindle app to your smart phone or ipad or tablet and read away! Ooo if you are in the USA and have a Kindle Prime account, you can read the book for free from the Kindle Lenders Library. (Sorry everyone else, it’s not available in other nations yet.)

Sorry you’ve all had to wait so long, in the last two months we have not been together at all with various trips, family events and Julie’s jury service. What a palaver! So at last, here is our dear book with all our love, dedication and hard work. We hope you really enjoy it, we are very happy with it and we love it. It has made us roar with laughter and charted our lives in the last few years bringing us much joy.

The landscape of printing and publishing has changed massively since “You F’Coffee Sir?!!!”. Printing this new book in a hard copy format is proving incredibly expensive so we are hoping that most of you can enjoy it digitally while we consider our options further. But spread the word for us, especially to your tech savvy friends and family and please keep in touch x

Oh yeah, the fire proof bag, those smelly, nasty, germ-aticaly sealed creations, which are so important they form part of a minimum equipment list onboard and we cannot fly without them. We must put collected waste in to sealed containers, either a gash cart, a metal bin, a trash compacter, or failing that, a strong fire retardant bag with either Velcro or drawstrings to seal it tight. You probably have no idea how much crap a flight makes dear Passengers, but we tell you, it’s a shocking amount. At the end of each sector these odorous charmers are placed on the piss soaked floor of the toilets and locked in for landing. You can surely imagine what they smell like, our Northern friend Hexham Helen who had worked in a care home, said they smelt like old women’s knickers, and who were we to argue? May the day never arrive when we do actually sniff old women’s knickers. (Or indeed wear them. Is a thong acceptable on an octogenarian? What a thought.) Gash bags! Aren’t we easily distracted? Yes. We can line them with the colourful plastic bin bags to our heart’s content. Somehow they always end up rife and rich with a dubious pale brown liquid in the bottom with soggy slices of lemon and two milk jiggers floating around, like some one has fly tipped in Willie Wonka’s chocolate river. It’s vile, load on the anti-bac before touching them all future Flyers, otherwise later on you’ll pick a bit of dry skin off your lip with an unsuspecting finger, and three hours later you’ll be making your own chocolate river with it’s very own geyser. Oh yeah! And someone told us recently that the fire proof bags were tested for hygiene onboard and it was discovered that the outer cover was coated in syphilis off the toilet floor. And why do we have to tolerate these smelly VD ridden stow-a-ways on board? What makes them so vital? It’s their ability to retard fire! They are fantastic, you put the rubbish in, seal it up tight, and if the whole aircraft gets hot and bright and descends in an unruly flamey way, all the rubbish will be safe! The standard Crew briefing joke goes,

QUESTION:  “What would you do if a fire broke out in flight?”

ANSWER:     “Get in the gash bag of course!”

Hee hee, gash bags! No, of course it’s because we put the bin bags in a fireproof bag in case the rubbish goes on fire. It can then be contained. Once the Crew we were with on a ferry flight had sack races in brand new, spotless, never been used fire retardant bags, the heavy red cotton ones. Such a special and rare treat, new gash bags are a rarer sight than Lady Gaga in jeans and a t-shirt. We each had to get in one fireproof bag and tie the drawstring round us, thigh or waist depending on your height. We timed each other hopping up and down the aisle and it was piss funny, but what hard work. I only got to row eighteen of the A321 and I was shagged and had to use the seat backs to swing myself along. We laughed and laughed, cheering and jeering each jumper, until Clive’s turn. He took it in to his flouncy head to run in the sack like a penguin in a windsock, which looked hilarious. He got all competitive about beating our feeble timings. He only got to row 5 and then fell and smacked his face off an armrest. His lip swelled up like a baboon’s arse, and suddenly it wasn’t funny any more, he’d knocked one of his front teeth loose. We had to tend him with an ice pack and ibuprofen. When the next Crew changed aircraft with us their Trainer asked what he had done to his mouth. We all held our breaths in case he cracked and told the truth. But no, he came through for us and told her he’d tried it on with a straight guy in a bar, and the bloke had clonked him one. Hero Clive! Who’d have thought he’d have had it in him? Although he did, regularly. The Trainer was so moved she sent him home sick and commended him for turning in injured after such an upsetting and homophobic incident. Honesty is not the best policy to a senior Trainer after a jape that turns sour. She’d have turned sour herself if the truth came out.

D’yer know? Jue’s just reminded me of something we forgot to say in the last book, something that really narked us. While we were writing ‘You F’Coffee Sir?!!!” a book came out about flying that put us Crew in a very bad, drunken, slaggy, uncaring light. It was full of Oooo guess what they do? Oooo blah blah blah. It wasn’t funny at all, I’ve had more fun treading on a up-turned plug. Anyway one of the things that was held up as a shock seeker was Cabin Crew’s joy in tray surfing. Bloody tray surfing, like it’s a crime against aviation!  Best be careful what we say or Aviation Interpol will be on to us! Shall I describe it Jue? The readers might not know what we’re on about. Yes, well, tray surfing is done on the take-off of an empty ferry flight. You get a tray, the newspaper one or a slippy deep tray or atlas drawer, you sit at the front of the aisle in it or on it for the take-off roll, and as the aircraft hurtles along the runway and the nose lifts off and the cabin tilts downwards, the angle makes you whizz down the carpet, right to the back galley, if you’re good! It’s exhilarating, thrilling and you can reach speeds of, oh, six or seven miles an hour if you’re lucky! You can tray ski, using the seat backs as sticks, which feels really fast and is only for the accomplished. Or another pleasing variation is to go plaggy-bagging and sit on the dear old blue plastic gash bag and steer with the clenched polythene between your thighs and bunched up skirt. Very exciting and spasm funny. Trouble is all this is quite dangerous, everyone hurts themselves, but so what? We’ve heard about fractures and dislocated kneecaps as a result of tray play, but you can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. You can’t live your life like you are tip toeing through a field of feathers, and believe us tray surfing is worth a purple elbow or two.

Unfortunately it’s very hard for Crew to explain to a company though how they acquired a broken wrist on an empty, incident free flight. Some poor brow beaten Crew have fessed up to tray surfing and got us all in loads of shit. Oh well, there but for the grace of God go Jue and I, they were probably refused pain relief till they blabbed. Very scary airline managers sometimes. Some of them have been chucked out of the Gestapo for being too cruel. That’s the trouble with flying. Got it!  Got it in one! The trouble with flying is that it’s like being in a successful rock band on a tour bus but your Dad is the drummer. No matter how cool a Dad he is, he will always cramp your style and keep a watchful eye out. Jue says it’s like being in a Christian rock band, how rock and roll can you be when you have to behave? Christian ROCK BAND! They should drop the rock band part and just say Christian musical group. It’s the equivalent of saying Dinner Lady Devil Worshippers. What is the Christian Rock Band equal to Deep Purple? Light Mauve?  Led Zeppelin = Feather Soft Blimp. Twisted Sister = Naughty Niece. Black Sabbath = Peach Sundae!  We’re going to have to put some thought in to this!

While we were engrossed in seeing the police trying to free him and cart him away, Jue noticed that he had a t-shirt on with something about Ryanair on the front, but it was too small to see clearly. We just had to google and find out more. Well… This chap John Foley is a regular protester against all things Ryanair and this is not his first attempt at publicity. He has previously ran out in front of race horses on the home straight at the Ryanair Chase (and could have been killed when you see the footage) and also got himself up on the roof of the Crowne Plaza at Liverpool John Lennon airport and stayed there for eight hours. And no, he is not a disgruntled passenger for once. He is the dad of a sacked Stewardess!

As there are two sides to every story, and this is an intriguing one, we include a video of John’s reasoning as to why his protest has continued for nearly four years. He often chooses events where Michael O’Leary is present, apparently he was in the stands for the game last night. If indeed he brings to public notice the fact that after paying for training a considerable amount of both Pilots and Crew have their contracts terminated, and this proves to be a money making issue for Ryanair and Crewlink who provide trained Crew for them, then it will indeed be a scandal and he will have done our industry a huge favour. We personally make no bones about the fact that we find Michael O’Leary utterly reprehensible and it isn’t hard to believe he would work a thing like this in to his business plan.

On the other hand Ryanair have previously stated that the reason daughter Sarah was finished was due to her time-keeping and non-attendance during her probationary period. They were very keen to point out that she didn’t actually “work” for them but was agency staff provided by Crewlink. As an airline they do love to separate themselves from any real employer/employee connection, because quite simply the money saved on each individual will be immense over the course of their employment. This has long been their policy.

We have readers and friends who work for Ryanair (perhaps not directly though) and it would be great to get another opinion about what flying for them is really like. Anything you’d like to add, correct us on or rant about, please do! This is fascinating stuff! x

Jue likes to think it’s because of the wonderful amount of very good grade Dutch green we used to enjoy. She says it has a cumulative effect to calm and relax and she may well have a point. But I think it’s something else entirely. I think, although perhaps I am misguided, but I think it’s technology. I think that technology has pulled us up and slowed us down on some of our most fervent beliefs. I truly believe that technology has lead us to question all that we once held dear, because for everything that we used to rage about, see our arse about or even defend unquestionably, we now have almost instant access to the other side of the story. A few clicks away lies further detail, extra information, wiser appraisal. It’s there, and it’s open to all. And this, we believe, has both a negative and positive effect on those who write down stuff and publish it.

If, on first hearing Michael Gove say he thinks the Queen should have a new Royal Yacht, you thought “Cheeky piss-taking bastards!” and you fancy sticking with that outburst as your standard bearer on the subject, do not, DO NOT engage an enquiring mind and think, “Hermmm, this needs more investigation.” What you will find on typing “Queen yacht” in to Google is a complete back and to of why it’s both a shit idea and a bloody brilliant one. After you’ve read it bit by bit, your poor mashed head will be woolly with divided loyalties:

“100 million quid for a bloody chug around the shoreline with an octogenarian who could kark it before it’s even paid for! One of the world’s richest women who has had every bloody privilege known to man, while community centres are being shut down and we’re in economic shite!”

“Ooooo! it won’t be tax-payers forking out then, it’s good for trade and industry, it’s a nice thank you to a dear old lass who has served us well for 60 years, God bless you ma’am! It’s ideal for training and quality purposes and will unite our nation. And it’s posh.”

We tell you, we came out of that bit of info collection none the bloody wiser as to what we should feel. Years ago this couldn’t possibly have happened, we would have thought whatever was available to us to think., usually the headline of whatever newspaper we were giving out on board, generally the FT or Evening Standard depending on departure time. If the headline had blazed “QUEEN GIFTED NEW YACHT BY ADORING NATION” we’d have gone “Awww, isn’t that nice?!” If it had said “COUNTRY IN CRISIS HITS BACK AT PALACE GREED” we’d have gone “How bloody insensitive, the cheeky twats!” Things were so much simpler then, and so we were we.

But we all have a voice now, millions and millions of mouths clamouring to debate and challenge. No one paper or TV news show can lead us. A vast and complex world of nuance and expression awaits us all, and while of course we are so much better informed, we are often not more illuminated on how to feel about a thing. And as an army of contradictors are always poised to smash any bold belief to smithereens, it takes a brave person indeed to really spout forth. So is that as we’ve all wised up, we’ve all toned down? Were the firebrands funnier and more entertaining? Does the lack of feist make writers dull these days? Do the readers require guts and balls and an unshakable faith that the writer utterly embraces the topic and their view on it? Or is it refreshing and comforting to find logical and rational thought being applied to many more areas of life?

Have a good think, weigh it up, balance it out and let us know…

So, our looked forward to shows are A) anything with that little Danish lady with no neck Sandi Toksvig B) Stephen Fry of course (let us at his DNA to make more of him) and C) the delightfully cheeky but worldly Eddie Mair. Five o’clock on the dot every week day evening he informs and entertains but without seeming like a pompous knob. Plus he also does serious very, very well. All good! So yesterday he did an article on how passengers feel about those who recline their seat on board aircraft, a topic right up our aisle. And a topic that we Stewardesses, more than any other travellers on any aircraft, have vast and varied experience with. We emailed in with a jokey but point driven rejoinder to the said piece and lo and behold, a posh lady read it out to the listeners in the first person as though it was us talking! THRILLED! She had the kind of voice we would have if only we hadn’t been brought up in the North East.

Now, old Eddie Mair has been smoothly delighting our auditorial senses for some time but isn’t it strange how you can never visualise a radio presenter? We imagined a rather heavy set, ruddy faced British version of Fred Flintstone with a good education, nice shirt and an even better head of hair. A friend’s dad or maybe a chap who opens his garden every year for the Yellow Book charity scheme. Yet we’ve just googled Eddie Mair and found to our surprise that…well…we would! He’s bit of alright to Air Hostesses who have reached that delicate stage where they still adore house music and fashion but can enjoy a nice cup of tea, a ginger crunch cream and a good listen to The World At One on the ever reassuring Radio 4. Tell Channel 4 that we are the REAL Inbetweeners, never mind teenage boys with high sex derivatives. A good looking woman who loves Swedish House Mafia and can still rock a pair of leopard print shag-me shoes, yet who knows about the evolution of the Royal Mail, is really where it’s at.