In a shocking display of proletarian pluck that would make Tom Paine weep with joy, a gaggle of gallant bystanders took a literal hammer and sickle to the window of a swanky, singleton-propelled private jet at Heathrow this Tuesday. The aircraft, belonging to some tax-dodging trust fund heir or oligarch's spawn (police are still chasing the paper trail of shell companies), had skidded off the runway like a drunken debutante at a wedding. The plane's pilot, a man whose name rhymes with 'fop' and who apparently took the jet for a spin purely to annoy the malodorous masses, was reportedly unconscious.
The incident unfolded as follows: a Boeing 737 of the plebeian persuasion had an 'incident' (the polite word for 'meltdown') on the tarmac, and this sparkle-jet of the elite was forced to perform an emergency stop. But the stop was too stop, and the jet's nose was crunched like a crisp packet. Inside, the pilot was out cold, and the emergency services were, predictably, stuck in traffic (probably clogging up the cycle lane).
At this point, the unwashed and unshaven (and utterly uninsured) stepped in. With a cry of 'Let he who is without a private jet cast the first brick,' a collection of jobbers, journeymen and jolly janners grabbed whatever was to hand: a fire extinguisher, a metal road sign, and possibly a giant novelty cheque. They smashed the reinforced Perspex of the jet's window, using their bare hands and blunt objects.
There was no thought for the value of the custom-fit, titanium-reinforced, monogrammed window. There was only the primal, human impulse: get them out. And out they came, bleeding but alive.
The pilot was retrieved from the cockpit, his silk tie probably ruined. The polite, authorised rescue crew arrived ten minutes later, tutting and shaking their heads. They told the heroes they had 'acted outside the authorised emergency protocol'.
The heroes told them to get knotted. The airline, in a statement smelling of a PR company's leftover quiche, said: 'We are investigating the incident and will be reviewing our procedures for amateur window-smashing.' Meanwhile, the pilot is recovering in hospital, where the nurses are reportedly charging him double for the bedpan.
The real question: will the blazer-wearing, monocle-polishing, yacht-owning class learn that the poor are not a pair of loathsome hands to be slapped away, but a resource to be unleashed in times of trouble? Or will they just install stronger glass and hire a private army to guard the runways from the rabble? Only time will tell, but this journalist wagers on more glass.
It's cheaper than decency.
