Summary
Silence. Giggles. 'Last chance, ' she shouted, 'Mr A. F-A-G-E-T. Mr Faget, we need you to come forward.' At least she didn't say 'come out' as a pink-faced Frenchman eventually put up his hand and claimed a stray bag. The charm of the no-frills airline lingered like a cheap scent. Sickly and reeking most definitely of 'you-gets-what-you-pays-for'.
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Extract
Basqu-Ing in It
'A re you a faggot?' the Ryanair lady shouted down the plane's aisle, occasionally pointing at different men who she thought might fit this description. 'We cannot take off till we find a faggot, ' she insisted, louder...
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