At a time when parents are struggling to pay for their kids’ school supplies, I’m finding model, influencer, occasional TV presenter, podcaster and all-round attention-seeker Vogue Williams’ ‘first world’ problem regarding a seat on a flight to be both insensitive and downright obtuse.
Let me enlighten you, readers. Ms ‘When you wipe bums all day you can’t really get an ego’ Williams would like us all to think that her entire diet consists of large pieces of humble pie; however, given what I’d describe as being her recent appalling behaviour, I’d say the opposite is clearly the truth!
Flying home from a luxury family holiday last month, Vogue, realising she’d ‘accidentally booked the wrong seat’ on the plane, appeared to suffer from a serious case of ‘up-her-own-backside’; and, (in my opinion) displaying an elevated sense of self-worth, described a fellow passenger, (according to reports) as being ‘a piece of s***’! Wow!
But what did this passenger do to warrant such a vulgar reaction? Well readers, he’d booked and paid for his seat, yet, because he refused to vacate it in favour of Vogue, (and why should he?), the privileged-princess decided to give everyone on the flight a masterclass in divadom, hence hitting him with a string of expletive-laden abuse!
As if that display of self-entitlement wasn’t sickening enough, the clothes-horse, sorry model, and her over-bearing arrogance then went into overdrive. Upon being approached by ‘an air-hostess’, (they prefer cabin crew love), Vogue, still referring to the gentleman, unleashed another string of invectives too disgusting to print in this family publication! Ah bless, perhaps the poor put-upon-poppet was having an ‘off day’? Next time this happens, maybe one of her minions could run her Highness a rose-petal-strewn bath and call her therapist? Oh wait, they can’t, he ‘ghosted’ her!
While I’ll always stand up for my fellow Dubs, (especially the northsiders, because I am one), I have to draw the line at defending self-entitled motormouths, specifically ones who appear to have more issues than, well, the magazine they’re named after! Vogue…get it?
As far as I can make out, it was you Vogue who made the mistake of not booking the correct seat, not this gentleman, who was, by all accounts, in his assigned, booked and paid-for seat.
I’ve been on flights which have been delayed by parents like Ms Williams, who, despite being accompanied by their kids, and wanting to sit with them, can’t be bothered to book specific seats in advance. However, in what I can only describe as a display of arrogance mixed with a side of ‘you-owe-me’, they regularly expect others to jump and move at their say so! Not happening!
I know it’s hard to fly with kids, but you know what, as nobody wants to be trapped beside a bawling baby and their pompous parents, those who are travelling kid-free tend to do the smart thing, as in we pre-plan, we pre-book and we pre-pay for our seats!
For the record, I do know that not all parents and kids travelling on planes are disruptive. I have, on many occasions, (because I’m not heartless), helped a harassed parent by taking the fractious baby for them, walking up and down the aisle soothing their child in my arms; even singing to them, (scary), while mammy/daddy grabbed a well-earned coffee!
However, I can tell you that, given her disgusting behaviour towards her fellow passenger on that flight, Ms self-absorbed mother-earth Williams is lucky I wasn’t the one on the receiving end of her megalomaniac rant. If I had, I’d not only have refused to move seats, I’d have told her that, even though her so-called ‘celebrity’ status has well and truly waned, her narcissism clearly hasn’t.
Yes folks, while it definitely helps to be confident and pushy in some aspects of life, (and, given her conduct, I’d say this has-been model appears to have covered that particular turf nicely), let me advise Vogue that her audacity and her foul language don’t exactly make for good press!
Sincere condolence to all affected by the tragic loss of little Brandon
On behalf of the entire county of Roscommon, may I offer the most sincere and heartfelt condolences to the family of precious little Brandon Thomas Byrne who lost his life this week as a result of what was clearly a tragic accident while holidaying in the village of Ballinagare.
The infant’s family comes from Clonsilla in Dublin, an area I know quite well. I cannot imagine, nor do I ever wish to imagine, what these parents are going through; other than to say their level of shock, disbelief and heartbreak must be so traumatic and so intense, they’re going to need every bit of love and support possible to help them navigate through their grief.
I have no doubt the good people of Ballinagare and Clonsilla will not just rally round this baby boy’s parents, grandparents and family, but the communities, both of which are very strong, very cohesive and very supportive, will also wrap them in a cloak of love, understanding and gentleness.
My thoughts are also with the poor driver of the vehicle which allegedly struck the little boy. I’m sure his family, friends and his community, will be on hand to provide him with reassurance, assistance and compassion during his time of need. The entire county of Roscommon is weeping for all who’ve been affected and impacted by this utterly harrowing and heartbreaking tragedy. Rest in peace little angel.
What were you inking, Phil?
According to reports, radio broadcaster Marty Whelan is ‘simultaneously bemused, amused and maybe even a teensy bit horrified’ (aren’t we all?), that some random bloke got his face tattooed onto his leg!
The story goes that Phil O’Kelly, (who can forget about ever being taken seriously again in his life), ‘lost a bet in Fantasy Football’, with the winning party, (his mate), getting to choose his penalty, which was – wait for it – a seven-inch inking of Marty’s mug onto his leg.
Let me tell you Phil, given this ‘mate’ chose Marty’s face above all others to be indelibly inked onto your person, it’s my opinion that he’s definitely, beyond any doubt, no friend of yours.
I’m not trying to insult you Marty, you’re a lovely man; and we’ve even worked together in the past on Open House, etc., however, while I’m very fond of you, that sentiment doesn’t extend to having your likeness branded onto any part of my anatomy!
Like many major decisions in life, getting inked (or not) is a personal choice. In fact, before getting any of my three tattoos, I spent a lot of time choosing the right design, consulting with the tattoo artist and choosing where on my body I wanted to get them.
Unlike poor misguided Phil, I didn’t lose a bet, and allow my ‘friend’ to choose what may or may not turn out to be a highly regrettable, ahem, piece of body art!
Mind you, I do know someone who has his former partner’s name tattooed onto his shoulder, and, bad as that is, it’s even worse that her name is misspelled! Ooops!
However readers, let me tell you that while I’m a fan of tattoos, I must point out that what you get inked, where you put it and the significance of it are all details that should be specific only to you.
There’s a major difference between getting a decorative ankle, foot, shoulder or belly design and stamping yourself with an elaborate canvas of someone’s face, or branding yourself with an ex’s name in a spot where your current partner is forced to look at it every time you turn over in the leaba! Ach sin scéal eile mo chairde!
