AN OASIS OF IRONY
I'm on a 747 somewhere over Borat-country. I haven't a clue what time it is. All I know is that I'm hungry and that the more I read the hungrier I get.

I put this down to two things:

First, I'm flying Oasis Hong Kong, the new budget carrier from the people that brought you Dragon Air. For the second flight in a row they've forgotten my kosher meal and after wolfing down the unmelted tuna-and-cheese melt I'd bought at the airport, together with a gourmet cookie the size of Ireland, I haven't got any food left.

And second, I'm reading the fascinating, though poorly-written, expose of America's fascination with Competitive Eating: Insatiable: Competitive Eating and the Big Fat American Dream.

Once I've ploughed through Jason Fagone's murky prose and his references to parochial cultural icons and events, I'm left reading page after page about sauce-drenched chicken wings, garlic-laced hot dogs and bucket-sized portions of Tiramisu.

Being a budget airline, Oasis sells food to passengers. But after munching on one Snickers, there's nothing else to munch on that isn't a pot noodle, smoked almonds or yet more chocolate.

I turn to my book for distraction. "There'll be a non-meaty sandwich on its way in just a few more hours," I told myself.

When it finally arrived, I attacked my cheese-and-tuna focaccia with all the good grace of a hyena that's just stumbled upon a dead zebra. It was gone in 10 seconds flat. "Maybe I should get into competitive eating?" I thought. "I always clean my plate before most people have even made a dent in their food. It can't be that hard!"

An air-hostess passes my seat. I ask her for another sandwich. I am less ferocious, but I destroy the hapless creation in record time. And I reflect on my predicament.

When I was at school, there was a joke that lippy public schoolboys used to tell:
Q: What's the definition of "suspicion"?
A: A nun doing press-ups in a cocumber field.

I now have a definition for irony: "Reading a book on competitive eating while starving on a plane."

Oasis itself was pretty poor: four-year old films; delays; forgotten food; and a flight time longer than any other because the company forgot to get permission to fly over Russia.

Still, as a result of my complaints I've now been offered a free return flight to Hong Kong. Next time, I'll bring a packed lunch.