The Adgenda: Virgin has a new idea for "in-flight entertainment"

It's jokey, but a bit much?

Virgin Airways has sent out a new infomercial, a "guide to getting lucky."

“Hello there esteemed sexual predators. Come in, sit down, have a drink. You must be knackered after a good long day of ignoring personal space and leering at dating site profiles. But here’s some great news. Virgin has taken your concerns in hand and offers a streamlined and efficient way to creep on people. Intimidated by that first lewd comment and potential sexual harassment lawsuit? Let our staff break the ice for you. Our flight attendants are highly trained in and very eager to act as middlemen in your misguided attempts at affection. Nothing says romance and honest intentions more than a plastic cup of champagne or a portion of our famously high-quality meals. No longer will strangers on planes be out of your reach. Things like common courtesy and respect for your fellow travelers may apply on the ground, but in the air all bets are off. Not that I’m a betting man myself, but I’d say there’s a good 50 per cent chance of joining our very selective mile high club. You may have entered a Virgin but that doesn’t mean you have to leave one.”

The music is cheesy, Branson cheesier and the whole thing smacks of parody, but yes “Seat-to-seat” delivery is now a thing at Virgin Airlines. You can send drinks or food to other passengers with personalized notes, and perhaps “get lucky” according to the ad.

Branson is known for over-the-top advertisement gimmicks; who can forget the time he showed up in a wedding dress for the launch of Virgin Brides. This could be another of these headline-grabbing stunts. At least we hope so.

He has always wanted Virgin Airlines to have a laid-back, but classy reputation, a la an exclusive country club. But no matter how soft the seats or how much legroom he can provide airplanes are a mode of transport. Imagine the same scenario in a bus or on the tube. No you can’t and you shouldn’t be able to. Planes and trains are a means to an end, going from point A to B. Yes you can make it more comfortable and yes chatting to others can kill a few boring hours, but it is not a dating service.

Any woman who has ever had a creep hit on them will not enjoy Branson’s little wink-wink-hint-hint joke about the mile high club he gave to CNBC:  "Perhaps on the way to the loo that person can let you know if they fancy you, too. Let me just say, we are not the sort of airline which bangs on the lavatory door."

 

 

 

Branson offers a new service for those long plane journeys. Photo by China Photos/Getty Images
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It's easy to see where Berlin is being rebuilt – just hit the streets

My week, from walking the streets of Berlin to class snobbery and the right kind of gentrification.

Brick by brick, block by block, the people are rebuilding the city once called Faust’s Metropolis. To see it clearly, put your boots on. One of the most bracing walks starts by the Gethsemane Church, which served as a haven for dissenters in the last days of the GDR and takes you down ­towards the Hackescher Markt.

Here, in what is still the eastern half of a divided city that wears its division more lightly, is a Berlin experience both old and new. In three decades of frequent visits, it has been fascinating to note how much this part of town has changed. Even a decade ago these streets were rundown. With crumbling buildings showing bulletholes, it wasn’t hard to imagine what the place looked like in 1945. Now there are lilacs, blues, and yellows. Cafés, bars and restaurants abound, serving the young professionals attracted to the city by cheap rents and a renewed sense of community.

 

Breaking the fourth wall

Looking north along Schliemannstraße, you’ll find a delightful vista of well-tended balconies. It’s a pleasant place to live, notwithstanding the gaggle of grotesques who gather round the corner in the square. On Kastanienallee, which forms the second leg of the walk, an old city feels young. It’s a kind of gentrification but the right kind. There’s more to eat, to drink, to buy, for all.

Berlin, where Bertolt Brecht staged his unwatchable plays, was supposed to have been transformed by a proletarian revolution. Instead, it has been restored to health by a very middle-class one. Germany has always had a well-educated middle class, and the nation’s restoration would have impossible without such people. The irony is delicious – not that irony buttered many parsnips for “dirty Bertie”.

 

The new snobbery

The British Museum’s survey of German history “Memories of a Nation” is being presented at the Martin-Gropius-Bau as “The British View”. Germans, natürlich, are curious to see how we observe them. But how do they see us?

A German friend recently in England  said that the images that struck him most forcibly were the tins of food and cheap booze people piled up in supermarkets, and the number of teenage girls pushing prams. Perhaps Neil MacGregor, the former director of the British Museum who will shortly take up a similar role here at the new Humboldt Forum, may turn his attention to a “German View” of the United Kingdom.

There’s no shortage of material. In Schlawinchen, a bar that typifies Kreuzberg’s hobohemia, a college-educated English girl was trying to explain northern England to an American she had just met. Speaking in an ugly modern Mancunian voice that can only be acquired through years of practice (sugar pronounced as “sug-oar”), she refer­red to Durham and York as “middle class, you know, posh”, because those cities had magnificent cathedrals.

When it comes to inverted snobbery, no nation can match us. To be middle class in Germany is an indication of civic value. In modern England, it can mark you as a leper.

 

Culture vultures

The Humboldt Forum, taking shape by the banks of the Spree, reconsecrates the former site of the GDR’s Palace of the Republic. When it opens in 2018 it will be a “living exhibition”, dedicated to all the cultures of the world. Alexander von Humboldt, the naturalist and explorer, was the brother of Wilhelm, the diplomat and philosopher, whose name lives on in the nearby university.

In Potsdamerplatz there are plans to build a modern art museum, crammed in between the Neue Nationalgalerie and the Philharmonie, home to the Berlin Philharmonic. Meanwhile, the overhaul of the Deutsche Staatsoper, where Daniel Barenboim is music director for life, is likely to be completed, fingers crossed, next autumn.

Culture everywhere! Or perhaps that should be Kultur, which has a slightly different meaning in Germany. They take these things more seriously, and there is no hint of bogus populism. In London, plans for a new concert hall have been shelved. Sir Peter Hall’s words remain true: “England is a philistine country that loves the arts.”

 

European neighbours

When Germans speak of freedom, wrote A J P Taylor, a historian who seems to have fallen from favour, they mean the freedom to be German. No longer. When modern Germans speak of freedom, they observe it through the filter of the European Union.

But nation states are shaped by different forces. “We are educated to be obedient,” a Berlin friend who spent a year at an English school once told me. “You are educated to be independent.” To turn around Taylor’s dictum: when the English speak of freedom,
they mean the freedom to be English.

No matter what you may have heard, the Germans have always admired our independence of spirit. We shall, however, always see “Europe” in different ways. Europe, good: we can all agree on that. The European Union, not so good. It doesn’t mean we have to fall out, and the Germans are good friends to have.

 

Hook, line and sinker

There are fine walks to be had in the west, too. In Charlottenburg, the Kensington of Berlin, the mood is gentler, yet you can still feel the city humming. Here, there are some classic places to eat and drink – the Literaturhauscafé for breakfast and, for dinner, Marjellchen, a treasure trove of east Prussian forest delights. Anything that can be shot and put in a pot!

For a real Berlin experience, though, head at nightfall for Zwiebelfisch, the great tavern on Savignyplatz, and watch the trains glide by on the other side of Kantstraße. Hartmut Volmerhaus, a most amusing host, has been the guvnor here for more than 30 years and there are no signs that his race is run. The “Fisch” at twilight: there’s nowhere better to feel the pulse of this remarkable city. 

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage