from November 1, 2004
In early October, Sir Richard Branson, Chairman of Virgin Atlantic, delighted the world with his announcement that upper class passengers on his overnight, overpond flights could now enjoy suite dreams. Put semi-briefly, a pair of passengers traveling together will be allotted two square meters of real space in which to frolic, fornicate, meditate, pray, or sleep while crossing the Atlantic from New York to London, or vice versa.
Some weeks later, the world was treated to TV advertisements of these pleasant suites.
Be it known to one and all that MJTT’s lawyers are looking into this matter.
Regular readers of this column will recall my pair of columns entitled “Making the Skies Friendlier,” in this e-magazine. (Those with short memories or afflicted with the occasional senior moment may wish to consult our Archives.) They will remember my ingenious invention, since patented, of a morgue-inspired arrangement for Pond-crossers. They will have embedded in their memories a vision of sleeping in a well-equipped crypt as their alert, friendly crew flies them, safely and soundly, to their destination. And they will recall that this delightful experience, complete with the options of frolicking, fornicating, meditating, praying, or sleeping, will be available not only to those who have been dubbed “sir” or “lady” by the present queen or her successor(s), but to the general public, or, more precisely, to anyone weighing less than 300 pounds.
Sir Richard, watch your back! If our clever barristers do not pin you to the mat for stealing our patented idea, we will inaugurate our own airline, which will enjoy a broader appeal to the undubbed amongst us. And they are legion.