From Club World to death row for the price of a morning paper

Club Class? Surely not.

I turn to the helpful airport lady, charged with assisting hapless, out-of-practice travellers like me with the new self-service check-in machines.

"I'm meant to be in Premium Economy," I state, "I can't afford an upgrade."

"No, no," she assures me, "That's all booked and paid for - just go straight to the front of the queue to the Club Class counter to drop off your bags."

What a stroke of luck, I've never travelled first class, let alone Club Class but, before I start to revel in my new status as the undisputed King of Blag, I realise that surely in plimsoles, jeans and a 7-Up t-shirt I'm not quite dressed for the occasion.

Worries

In fact, I'm going to stick out like a sore thumb. I can see it now. I'll not be allowed on if I can't attach my complimentary cufflinks.

Who am I kidding? Cufflinks will be the last of my worries, the only reason somebody this casual can afford to travel like this is through a life of crime. They'll see it a mile off. I'll be arrested before take off and strip searched by Big Momma while the rest of Cufflink class looks on.

I've probably had murder evidence attached to my person and will become the victim of some elaborate stich-up, so that the criminal mastermind stuck in economy can be upgraded, while I go down in history as the Cufflink Killer.

By the time I'm airside, I have worried myself from the airport to death row, so I head off for some Garfunkelfodder to mull over the situation and bring myself back down to earth.

Gadget

With some much-needed food inside me I know I'm being ridiculous. But I still want to fit in. I can't afford a suit, or a shirt. And if I opt for some sort of posh gadget, that will only exacerbate my criminal potential.

Bang, then it hits me, the perfect Club class accessory, the one thing I can carry on to the plane in plain view to instantly mark me as a business mover and shaker - the Daily Telegraph.

Genius, the airline staff will see me and think ' he flies club class but dresses down, how down to earth'.

"No cufflinks today, sir?"

And I'll have some witty response ready to make them smile coyly, little knowing they're in the presence of the Great Pretender.

Arriving at WHSmith I run into my first problem - The Daily Telegraph is being given away free with every bottle of water. I consider changing my choice of broadsheet, but I really need some water as well.

I arrive at the departure lounge to find every single other waiting person carrying a bottle of water in one hand and a Daily Telegraph in the other. To add to this, there are piles of the paper discarded on the seats, in the corners and strewn across the floor.

Symbol

In one cruel moment my perfect status symbol is no longer fit for even the riff raff. They only use it to get water, an animalistic instinct - a primitive thought process if you ask me, almost monkey-like.

I decide that people have no idea of a status symbol when they see it, and that by keeping hold of my Daily Telegraph I will demand much more respect than by casting it aside for somebody to clean up - as long as I hide my free bottle of water!

Boarding the plane, I am dumbstruck. Club class far outweighs my expectations. Fully reclining seats, storage space, Champagne, privacy screen, foot rests and a set of electrical controls to rival even the pilot.

The dress code, however, is strikingly casual. Some passengers more casual than me and not a cufflink in sight. Clearly I had nothing to worry about and could have relaxed and enjoyed the airport entertainment.

Settling into my pod with a stupid big grin I prepare to make the most of my eight-hour upgrade that I could not afford in a million years. But first, one final insult as the stewardess approaches:

"Good morning and welcome to British Airways Club World," she smiles, "can I interest you in a complimentary Daily Telegraph?"

Buried alive in my bus-journey book

Every day, i get the bus to work. That's not strictly true. Not every day. I do not work every day. And the days when I'm not working, I do not get the bus to work as there would be no point. But at least four days a week, usually six, I get the bus to work.

Recently, however, i've been concerned that I could be doing more with my bus journeys. Read a book, write a blog, or even learn something - music theory or a new language. But in practice, I forget the book, pen or pad of paper that I need, and end up playing silly games with myself to pass the time.

You know the sort of things people do, maybe not always on the bus, but to stave off boredom whenever it creeps in. I'll shut my eyes and try to guess what corner I'm at five minutes later. For some reason I always open my eyes early - I have no idea why I would cheat at this, as it is of no benefit to me.

Another favourite is to imagine the lives of the people around me. For example, does the woman two rows in front go home to watch Come Dine With Me with a talking dog? Or does the man at the back deflate when he isn't needed in my field of vision. Collapsing into a box until next time I pass by.

With all this in mind, on Saturday I took a book for the bus journey. Slam by Nick Hornby - worth a read so far. It's about a young lad who... it's not important what the book is about. All you need know is I took a book to read on the bus.

Anyway, I boarded the busy bus, made my way upstairs and, as soon as it hit traffic, I buried myself in the book... never again.

19 pages later, I looked up. The previously bustling bus was totally empty and the previously busy roads were deserted.

Could it be that, whilst I'd been reading, some other-worldly force had wiped all life off the planet? Had Pig Flu mutated dramatically over 20 minutes? Was I cursed to live out the rest of my days riding this blasted bus route? For a split second, I was terrified.

It is obvious that while I concentrated on reading, I didn't notice people filter off the bus, and it makes sense that a business park would be free of traffic on the weekends. But if being engrossed in a book means losing all sense of awareness and reason, then maybe it is better suited to sometime other than a bus journey.

Needless to say, next week i'll think twice before packing anything other than a packed lunch in my bag for work.