If you’ve plans for foreign travel you’ll likely go by air
They’ve restrictions and strict rules in place, of which you should be aware
What’s authorised in hand baggage may not always be apparent
Yet the diktat is online and it’s appropriately transparent
To scrutinise by verse and clarify those maybes:
It’s 100ml of liquids, unless food or milk for babies
Down with those work tools, place all chemicals in the bin
Ammunition can’t be loaded, but prescribed medicine’s in
Electronic items progress, most sport equipment’s out
Clubs and darts and spear guns, poles for hiking stout
Diving equipment (minus air tanks) is ok so do feel free
Who knows, it could be handy, if ditching in the sea
In the unlikely event of mishaps, sports parachutes are fine
But exit from the back not front, and make sure you’re first in line
Because when it all kicks off - in standard class amongst the cattle
The personal items held on board can sustain a battle
At the slightest hint of turbulence the seat-belt lights blink on
The flight staff won’t emerge until protagonists have gone
First elbow versus elbow, slyly nudging off the rest
Then angling more aggressively and going for the chest
It’s eyeball to eyeball: “Where’s your f*****g tool?”
(Confiscated or in hold luggage, as a general rule)
Whilst the old sheriff’s threat to make a outlaw swoon
Is a growling promise to cut your heart out with a spoon
And round-ended scissors, childishly waved aloft
Endanger the extremities when snipped at someplace soft
Menthos in coke bottles make home-made hand grenades
Flung with the utmost haste by foaming renegades
A travel iron gyrated wildly by its trailing flex
Can impress the most dizzying concussive effects
And whipping out a ten-inch hypodermic syringe
Induces even the staunchest combatant to cringe
Those so-called “safety” matches aren’t really true to name
When deployed by an arsonist the furnishing’s aflame
Oxygen masks deploying is no cause for celebration
As the windy plastic tubing is ideal for strangulation
The pilots bolt their cabin door, leave stewardesses to themselves
Super-heating ready meals and emptying the shelves
Serve up an in-flight meal of third-degree burn dread
They form a corporate phalanx defending the bulkhead
The passengers’ umbrellas are both spears and shields the same
Roman tortoise formation shelters seating from the rain
Blaring ringtones herald a captured trolley cavalcade
Charging down the inclined aisle, smashing through the barricade
Spirits in the cockpit aren’t as common as you’d think
It’s a fair conjecture that you’ll end up in the drink
So leave those sleeping grannies to their snoring as you fly
In the wrong hands knitting needles pose a hazard to the eye
So next time the traffic’s snarled up and for your flight you’re late
Don’t let the x-ray Nazis see you’re in a frantic state
As you’re held in check pre-airside and demand to board your plane
The security staff are obsessing over in-flight war again
Permanently tuned in to epic fantasies of affray
Anyone could have a weapon and could cause take-off delay
That’s why they take your belt off you and scan it with a frown
So if you try a getaway you’ll be caught with trousers down
And as you turn in horror posed and let out a shamed groan
You’ve got one last thing to declare snapped on your camera phone
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