A few months ago The Editor logged onto the internet and punched in his credit card number. At the time it seemed to be in exchange for a return ticket to Brisbane on Virgin Blue airlines but in practice it seems to have been for a two-hour inescapable performance of amateur comedy night — as brought to you by your wacky, zany Virgin Blue Guest Care Agents (WZVBGCAs.)

The outward journey occurred on February 13 and love was in the air (no pun intended) in advance of valentine's day on the 14th. Your WZVBGCAs kicked off their routine by announcing that “all crew should be seated for blast off.” Geddit? Blast off instead of take off? Geddit?

Once in the air the WZVBGCAs invited “guests” (in Virgin land there are guests, not customers) to submit their best valentine's poem to be judged by the captain. All passengers were then subjected to twenty excruciating minutes of bad poetry read over the PA by bogan cabin crew to the delight of the six teenagers on board. This is obviously what Richard Branson has in mind when he thinks of service.

Touchdown in Brisbane and there's a rush to get off the plane and escape the banal attempts at humour, but there's one more coming. Obviously the captain of the WZVBGCAs thinks she's on a role and announces over the PA with sterling comic understatement and timing: “last one off the plane has to clean.”

Crickets chirp. Chirp. Chirp.

It seems it couldn't get worse but then the next day The Editor boards a train into Brisbane city and the guard with the PA button decides to inject a bit of life into calling station names.

Instead of saying “Manly” he says “something that Mickey Mouse definitely is not: Manly.”

Instead of saying “Thorneside” he says “if you rub me the wrong way you'll be a thorn in my side.”

Crickets chirp.

Chirp.

Chirp.