What a flurry of important global events while I was holidaying!

The world’s best-loved Muslim has died, (admittedly, the easiest title he’s ever won).

Justin Bieber has dyed his hair peroxide-blonde (he’s done this before…but now he’s done it AGAIN guys which is MASSIVE).

Most amazing of all though is the revelation that Ronan Keating flies FIRST CLASS. Yesterday I opened the paper (erm…The Daily Mail app) to pics of him posing smugly with a cocktail in hand, standing up inside a plane, which can only happen in posh class. Ronan, babe, you don’t need to lower yourself by flogging pics of you showing off with your new v hot young model wife, you have your own critically-acclaimed music career…oh, ok then…

Flying pleb-class is a brilliant way to stay (ahem) grounded. You have to share intimate space with people who have tattoos (me) and wear flip-flops in public (also me) and drink tins of Stella on-board (Gwyneth actually…I KNOW!)

Even our elected leaders have to fly on normal planes. Ok, not easyjet, but still…we have no American Airforce One scenario. This is because us Brits won’t tolerate our money being spent on items of such ostentatious luxury for a select group of people…unless they were born into it and wear crowns and therefore totally can’t help it and have our full support…

Considering our current PM constantly reminds us that “we’re in this together” in terms of getting poorer and more depressed and drug-addicted and single-parenty, this would be a wholly inappropriate time for him to order himself a lovely new personal plane.

Except, oh…

In November he agreed a £10million VIP refit of RAF plane Airbus Voyager for his personal use. The justification being that it will apparently save us taxpayers a ton of cash every year on minister’s air-travel (he can take his elected mates on it too so they can absolutely NOT pretend they’re back at Eton getting high on expensive whiskey and their own self-importance).

He will also have to share it with the Royal Family a bit, but that’ll mostly just be Harry jetting off to Ibiza on crucial business every now and then, or Wills heading to another high-society wedding (without Kate, SHOCK!) But the main thing is, he, Sam and the kids can totally get to Tuscany at short notice…

We flew Jet2 this time and they were brill. The seats are wipe-clean plastic so you can rest easy without worrying about years of secretions from other plebs. Plus they offer half-price choccy bars with every hot drink! Who needs to stand up when you have a twirl and a shit coffee to get stuck in to?

Still, when we disembarked we felt a bit grubby, a bit constipated and a bit pissed. But all we had to do was buy a pint of milk, stagger to a taxi and come home to bed. We didn’t have to walk into a meeting about war.

I don’t want my Prime Minister to have to queue endlessly or deal with plebs shouting for more Stella or wait for strange orange girls who look like they’re going clubbing to tell them when they can stand up and go to the loo. I want them to have wifi and a place to sleep and peace and quiet, so that when they disembark they won’t make decisions that could ruin my entire life because they’re desperate for a poo and a decent cuppa.

However, I do think all our elected leaders should be forced to take one budget flight to Malaga every year, just to remind them how it feels to be a British pleb, i.e. to stand for hours in an orderly queue…