Dear Jetstar, Do you like riddles? I do, that’s why I’m starting this letter with one. What weighs more than a Suzuki Swift, less than a Hummer and smells like the decaying anus of a deceased homeless man? No idea? How about, what measures food portions in kilograms and has the personal hygiene of a French prostitute? Still nothing? Right, one more try. What’s fat as ****, stinks like **** and should be forced to purchase two seats on a Jetstar flight? That’s right, it’s the man I sat next to under on my flight from Perth to Sydney yesterday. As I boarded the plane, I mentally high-fived myself for paying the additional $25 for an emergency seat. I was imagining all that extra room, when I was suddenly distracted by what appeared to be an infant hippopotamus located halfway down the aisle. As I got closer, I was relieved to see that it wasn’t a dangerous semi-aquatic African mammal, but a morbidly obese human being. However, this relief was short-lived when I realised that my seat was located somewhere underneath him. Soon after I managed to burrow into my seat, I caught what was to be the first of numerous fetid whiffs of body odour. His scent possessed hints of blue cheese and Mumbai slum, with nuances of sweaty flesh and human faeces sprayed with cologne - Eau No. Considering I was visibly under duress, I found it strange that none of the cabin crew offered me another seat. To be fair, it’s entirely possible that none of them actually saw me. Perhaps this photo will jog their memories. Pinned to my seat by a fleshy boulder, I started preparing for a 127 Hours-like escape. Thankfully though, the beast moved slightly to his left, which allowed me to stand up, walk to the back of the plane and politely ask the cabin crew to be seated elsewhere. I didn’t catch the names of the three flight attendants, but for the purpose of this letter, I’ll call them: Chatty 1, Chatty 2 and Giggly (I’ve given them all the same surname - Couldnotgivea****). After my request, Chatty 1 and Chatty 2 continued their conversation, presumably about how **** they are at their jobs, and Giggly, well, she just giggled. I then asked if I could sit in one of the six vacant seats at the back of the aircraft, to whichGiggly responded, “hehehe, they’re for crew only, hehehe“. I think Giggly may be suffering from some form of mental impairment. I tried to relocate myself without the assistance of the Couldnotgivea**** triplets, but unfortunately everyone with a row to themselves was now lying down. It was then I realised that my fate was sealed. I made my way back to Jabba the Hutt and spent the remainder of the flight smothered in side-boob and cellulite, taking shallow breaths to avoid noxious gas poisoning. Just before landing, I revisited the back of the plane to use the toilet. You could imagine my surprise when I saw both “crew only” rows occupied by non-crew members. I can only assume Giggly let them sit there after she forgot who she was and why she’s flying on a big, shiny metal thing in the sky. Imagine going out for dinner and a movie, only to have your night ruined by a fat mess who eats half your meal then blocks 50% of the screen. Isn’t that exactly the same as having someone who can’t control their calorie intake occupying half your seat on a flight? Of course it is, so that’s why I’m demanding a full refund of my ticket, including the $25 for an emergency row seat. I’m also looking to be compensated for the physical pain and mental suffering caused by being enveloped in human blubber for four hours. My lower back is in agony and I had to type this letter one-handed as I’m yet to regain full use of my left side. If I don’t recover completely, I’ll have to say goodbye to my lifelong dream of becoming Air Guitar World Champion. If that occurs, you will pay. No regards, John Keeler
Select to expand quoteDavidJohn said..
Dear Jetstar, Do you like riddles? I do, that’s why I’m starting this letter with one. What weighs more than a Suzuki Swift, less than a Hummer and smells like the decaying anus of a deceased homeless man? No idea? How about, what measures food portions in kilograms and has the personal hygiene of a French prostitute? Still nothing? Right, one more try. What’s fat as ****, stinks like **** and should be forced to purchase two seats on a Jetstar flight? That’s right, it’s the man I sat next to under on my flight from Perth to Sydney yesterday. As I boarded the plane, I mentally high-fived myself for paying the additional $25 for an emergency seat. I was imagining all that extra room, when I was suddenly distracted by what appeared to be an infant hippopotamus located halfway down the aisle. As I got closer, I was relieved to see that it wasn’t a dangerous semi-aquatic African mammal, but a morbidly obese human being. However, this relief was short-lived when I realised that my seat was located somewhere underneath him. Soon after I managed to burrow into my seat, I caught what was to be the first of numerous fetid whiffs of body odour. His scent possessed hints of blue cheese and Mumbai slum, with nuances of sweaty flesh and human faeces sprayed with cologne - Eau No. Considering I was visibly under duress, I found it strange that none of the cabin crew offered me another seat. To be fair, it’s entirely possible that none of them actually saw me. Perhaps this photo will jog their memories. Pinned to my seat by a fleshy boulder, I started preparing for a 127 Hours-like escape. Thankfully though, the beast moved slightly to his left, which allowed me to stand up, walk to the back of the plane and politely ask the cabin crew to be seated elsewhere. I didn’t catch the names of the three flight attendants, but for the purpose of this letter, I’ll call them: Chatty 1, Chatty 2 and Giggly (I’ve given them all the same surname - Couldnotgivea****). After my request, Chatty 1 and Chatty 2 continued their conversation, presumably about how **** they are at their jobs, and Giggly, well, she just giggled. I then asked if I could sit in one of the six vacant seats at the back of the aircraft, to whichGiggly responded, “hehehe, they’re for crew only, hehehe“. I think Giggly may be suffering from some form of mental impairment. I tried to relocate myself without the assistance of the Couldnotgivea**** triplets, but unfortunately everyone with a row to themselves was now lying down. It was then I realised that my fate was sealed. I made my way back to Jabba the Hutt and spent the remainder of the flight smothered in side-boob and cellulite, taking shallow breaths to avoid noxious gas poisoning. Just before landing, I revisited the back of the plane to use the toilet. You could imagine my surprise when I saw both “crew only” rows occupied by non-crew members. I can only assume Giggly let them sit there after she forgot who she was and why she’s flying on a big, shiny metal thing in the sky. Imagine going out for dinner and a movie, only to have your night ruined by a fat mess who eats half your meal then blocks 50% of the screen. Isn’t that exactly the same as having someone who can’t control their calorie intake occupying half your seat on a flight? Of course it is, so that’s why I’m demanding a full refund of my ticket, including the $25 for an emergency row seat. I’m also looking to be compensated for the physical pain and mental suffering caused by being enveloped in human blubber for four hours. My lower back is in agony and I had to type this letter one-handed as I’m yet to regain full use of my left side. If I don’t recover completely, I’ll have to say goodbye to my lifelong dream of becoming Air Guitar World Champion. If that occurs, you will pay. No regards, John Keeler
Rely to that................... I did Perth Joburg sitting next to the 200Kg bearded woman, she thought it was funny theta the seat belt was too short to go around her fat belly and had to request an extension, I must have the same flight attendants than you 
, I request the whale to be moved to 1st class and was told that the plane was fully booked................ 10 hours after my back was totally cactus, my nose was bleeding (caused by the smell of slowly melting lard) and it took me 3 days to be able to stand straight again. Some peeps should be made to buy 2 seats!
Here's the picture. 
Select to expand quoteDavidJohn said..
Dear Jetstar, Do you like riddles? I do, that?s why I?m starting this letter with one. What weighs more than a Suzuki Swift, less than a Hummer and smells like the decaying anus of a deceased homeless man? No idea? How about, what measures food portions in kilograms and has the personal hygiene of a French prostitute? Still nothing? Right, one more try. What?s fat as ****, stinks like **** and should be forced to purchase two seats on a Jetstar flight? That?s right, it?s the man I sat next to under on my flight from Perth to Sydney yesterday. As I boarded the plane, I mentally high-fived myself for paying the additional $25 for an emergency seat. I was imagining all that extra room, when I was suddenly distracted by what appeared to be an infant hippopotamus located halfway down the aisle. As I got closer, I was relieved to see that it wasn?t a dangerous semi-aquatic African mammal, but a morbidly obese human being. However, this relief was short-lived when I realised that my seat was located somewhere underneath him. Soon after I managed to burrow into my seat, I caught what was to be the first of numerous fetid whiffs of body odour. His scent possessed hints of blue cheese and Mumbai slum, with nuances of sweaty flesh and human faeces sprayed with cologne - Eau No. Considering I was visibly under duress, I found it strange that none of the cabin crew offered me another seat. To be fair, it?s entirely possible that none of them actually saw me. Perhaps this photo will jog their memories. Pinned to my seat by a fleshy boulder, I started preparing for a 127 Hours-like escape. Thankfully though, the beast moved slightly to his left, which allowed me to stand up, walk to the back of the plane and politely ask the cabin crew to be seated elsewhere. I didn?t catch the names of the three flight attendants, but for the purpose of this letter, I?ll call them: Chatty 1, Chatty 2 and Giggly (I?ve given them all the same surname - Couldnotgivea****). After my request, Chatty 1 and Chatty 2 continued their conversation, presumably about how **** they are at their jobs, and Giggly, well, she just giggled. I then asked if I could sit in one of the six vacant seats at the back of the aircraft, to whichGiggly responded, ?hehehe, they?re for crew only, hehehe?. I think Giggly may be suffering from some form of mental impairment. I tried to relocate myself without the assistance of the Couldnotgivea**** triplets, but unfortunately everyone with a row to themselves was now lying down. It was then I realised that my fate was sealed. I made my way back to Jabba the Hutt and spent the remainder of the flight smothered in side-boob and cellulite, taking shallow breaths to avoid noxious gas poisoning. Just before landing, I revisited the back of the plane to use the toilet. You could imagine my surprise when I saw both ?crew only? rows occupied by non-crew members. I can only assume Giggly let them sit there after she forgot who she was and why she?s flying on a big, shiny metal thing in the sky. Imagine going out for dinner and a movie, only to have your night ruined by a fat mess who eats half your meal then blocks 50% of the screen. Isn?t that exactly the same as having someone who can?t control their calorie intake occupying half your seat on a flight? Of course it is, so that?s why I?m demanding a full refund of my ticket, including the $25 for an emergency row seat. I?m also looking to be compensated for the physical pain and mental suffering caused by being enveloped in human blubber for four hours. My lower back is in agony and I had to type this letter one-handed as I?m yet to regain full use of my left side. If I don?t recover completely, I?ll have to say goodbye to my lifelong dream of becoming Air Guitar World Champion. If that occurs, you will pay. No regards, John Keeler
Select to expand quoteGorgo said..
Here's the picture.
Holy crap. that dude is a behemoth.
They should make people like that take Cargo Courier planes and pay by the kilogram.
I wish Evil Panda hadn't changed the original post as that first photo was Gold on so many levels.... 
Select to expand quoteStuthepirate said..Gorgo said..
Here's the picture.
Holy crap. that dude is a behemoth.
They should make people like that take Cargo Courier planes and pay by the kilogram.
This is a good friend of mine, worked with him for over 10 years offshore,
His nick name is blowie, and has a blowfly tatto on his hand, top bloke, guy could press over 120kgs no probs in the day.
Last year he had minor surgery for a stomach staple, he got an infection post op and almost died.
He pulled through, lost over 35 kilo's during the process, he came back to work for a short time, and realized offshore's not where he wanted to be.
he is a very different man today. I miss him.....
That's because you are a poley........... Just change all "she" to "he" and the "her" to "him". 
Select to expand quoteharry potter said...
That's because you are a poley........... Just change all "she" to "he" and the "her" to "him".
Even with a teabags couple, I still don't get it...
Select to expand quotejusavina said..harry potter said...
That's because you are a poley........... Just change all "she" to "he" and the "her" to "him".
Even with a teabags couple, I still don't get it...
i think ur looking to deep maybe the laughter is there is no such thing and its funny they think there is a perfect one,,, dunno my 2 bits
