In a move that has sent shockwaves through the world of premium gin consumption and delayed luggage, the Competition and Markets Authority has given the green light for Gatwick Airport to expand. Yes, that Gatwick. The one that looks like a neglected bus station with better lighting.
The one where the security staff are trained to look vaguely disappointed in your choice of footwear. The one that insists on calling you 'sir' while scanning your toothpaste with a weary sigh. It is, in essence, the Budget Bistro of British aviation: functional, slightly sad, but at least the coffee is hot.
The watchdog ruled that Gatwick's expansion would not harm competition, implicitly recognising that Heathrow already holds a monopoly on soul-crushing delays and overpriced sandwiches. Giles Kevil, a transport analyst with the unfortunate name of a minor Dickens character, declared: 'Gatwick's expansion is a vital step towards ensuring the South East has enough capacity to cope with growing demand for air travel, while also providing a credible alternative to Heathrow.' Or, to translate from Transport Planner into English: 'We have decided to add another terminal in the vague hope that people will stop complaining about the luggage carousel at T5.
' This is, of course, welcome news for the 15 people who prefer Gatwick. They are a hardy breed, often found defending their choice with the fervour of a man who has just discovered that budget airlines still serve peanuts. 'Heathrow is a nightmare,' they will say, clutching a boarding pass stained with something that might be coffee.
'At least at Gatwick, the Wi-Fi works for the first 15 minutes. And the staff have this lovely, defeated look in their eyes that is somehow reassuring.' Indeed, Gatwick has long been considered the underdog: the airport you fly from when you can't afford the dignity of a proper departure lounge.
The place where the lounges are called 'Premium Retreats' but are actually just an Ikea sofa placed next to a sad fountain. But now, with this ruling, Gatwick is poised to rise like a forgotten suitcase on the carousel of destiny. The expansion will add capacity for an additional 5 million passengers a year.
That is roughly the population of Scotland, but with more wheelie-bags. Or, as one cynic put it, 'Five million more people to be told their gate has changed while they are queuing for a £8 sausage roll.' The decision has, predictably, drawn the ire of the 'Not In My Backyard' brigade.
The Gatwick Area Conservation Campaign has issued a statement claiming that expansion will 'turn the beautiful Sussex countryside into a concrete wasteland full of angry people eating overpriced Pret.' To which one might respond: too late. The countryside already ends at the M25.
Beyond that is just a greyscape of retail parks, roundabouts, and the faint smell of aviation fuel mixed with broken dreams. Meanwhile, Heathrow sits in its First Class lounge of regulatory privilege, staring down at its rival with the haughty disdain of a man who has just been bumped from Business to Premium Economy. Its third runway remains a political football, kicked around by successive governments like a soggy brussels sprout at a Christmas dinner.
The Tories promised it. Labour promised it. Even the Liberal Democrats promised it, before realising they had promised the exact opposite to a different focus group.
Now, with Gatwick allowed to expand, Heathrow's position is no longer the only game in town. It is like suddenly discovering your posh club now allows members in from the public golf course. The horror.
The sheer audacity of efficient, relatively affordable air travel. It is enough to make a man order a very large gin and tonic in the furthest corner of the Business Lounge, where the free crisps are still a thing. So raise a glass of warm Sainsbury's gin to the people of Gatwick.
They are about to get a new departure lounge, a new runway, and the faint, barely audible sound of a thousand extra passengers grumbling about the cost of parking. It is, as ever, the British way: a small victory wrapped in a bank-holiday-sized disappointment. The future of air travel is a slightly bigger, slightly better-lit version of the same old airport.
And the only question that remains is whether the expansion will actually improve the quality of the in-flight peanuts. I, for one, have my doubts.
