Germany to China.

The first thing that goes wrong happens some 15 seconds after I’ve farewelled my airport entourage and stepped into the departure area: first I set the beepers off with some bobby pins lurking in the depths of my back pocket (which take a good ten minutes to locate); then, true to form, I leave my passport holder (complete with 2x passports and €100) on the counter as I go through security check. This, of course, I don’t realise until minutes later when I spott a pair of security men wandering around calling out “Ellison Edvards? EdVAAARDS, hallooo??

Soon it’s time to board. I traipse through business class - the obscenely wide and cushy armchairs, the foot rests, the whole kit and kaboodle - en route to economy, and cosy up in a space of perhaps four square metres which I share with two fat Poms and about 25 Singaporeans.

Thankfully, we’re blessed with an in-flight entertainment package that involves Bridget Jones’s Diary (original and sequel), Charlie’s Angels (also original and sequel), Sex and the City, assorted cheesy Hilary Duff flicks and the entire second season of the gripping America’s Next Top Model.

12-hour flight? Give me a break – I’m an Aussie. This is too easy.