The next part of the journey I didn’t give much thought to until I was half way through it.

I needed to get to Australia and decided to use a UA credit. So I fired up UA’s website and lo and behold it gave me a reasonable option to fly CDG-EWR-LAX-MEL.

I wanted to avoid SFO at all costs.

And I thought I haven’t been abused in at least a week, so why not chance it and fly through EWR.

So that’s what I did.

I think I mentioned that the load on the 767 twin jet from Charles De Gaulle to the East Coast was so light, that the Captain came on and said no one can move from their seat as it would affect weight and balance.

Some of you are probably thinking “why on earth would you fly all the way from Paris to Melbourne on United?” Using 3 different flights. And going in the wrong direction.

Let us remember what this website is called.

This is not a website about Irritable Bowel Syndrome. It’s not a website about How To Become A Buddhist Priest In 11 Days. Nor is it a website about How To Successfully Eliminate Your Spouse/Partner/Lover Using Nothing But A Spoon And A Pet Ferret.

It’s about travel.

You have it bad.

I have it bad.

And the rest of the minions on FT have it as well. They just don’t realize it yet.

I wasn’t dreading the 3 long flights if I’m honest. What I was dreading was enduring more than 30-hours of United’s catering.

When I was in the army, we used to live on MRE’s (Meals Ready To Eat).

Candidly, I quite liked them.

They were little dehydrated silver packets of goodness, and you simply added hot water. Someone in the Army’s supply side had a sense of humor and said “hey let’s write on this label that its chicken with mushrooms and rice. And this one we’ll call roast beef and potatoes. And this we’ll call Turkey with all the trimmings”

When in actual fact, it was none of those. It was all the one thing, which to this day no one could quite place. But when you’re cold, wet and hungry they did the job.

I think they should hand MRE’s out at the gate before you board UA long hauls. Or to spice things up, they shouldn’t give you menus, they should have an onboard competition called “name this meal”

It could go something like this.

“Ladies & Gentlemen, welcome to United. We trust you will enjoy the 14hr flight to Melbourne today. To relieve the boredom - the crew are now walking down the aisles handing out meal trays. Your job is to guess what we’re attempting to feed you”

Is it chicken?
Is it beef?
Is it fish?
Is it a plate of puke?

That's right Phil in seat 8A, it’s none of those things. It’s actually an omelette we had made using powdered egg at one of our outstations catering facilities 2 weeks ago and which cost all of 2 pennies and a nickel to produce.

I mean come on United. It can’t be that bad out there can it?

Until this year would you believe - I had no idea that all these weird UA groups existed on BookFace. You should see them. They’re unbelievable. It’s like the wild west.

People go on and post the dinner options and ask complete strangers what they should eat on their flight from one side of the country to the other.

We FT’ers may be regarded as eccentric sometimes - but these people need to get out more and ask their therapists for a refund. And the name of a taxidermist.

Look let’s be honest. United’s Polaris hard product is actually quite good. The bedding is excellent. The seat works. The IFE is acceptable. And for the most part, the hamster they have on the treadmill which powers the wifi, keeps scampering along.

But seriously. The catering blows. As in biblically blows.

Some of you might find this hard to believe - but I spent a night in jail once. Back in my wayward youth. In a tiny little seaside town called Cowes. It’s about 2 and half hours south of Melbourne.

Use the Google. It’s real I promise.

Anyway, my best friend and I were at a Pub called The Isle Of White.

Sadly it burned to the ground in 2010 but some yuppy developer in his Audi TT is going to turn the site into some trendy hotel and apartment complex with a pool deck. The Plonker.

I don’t remember quite what happened but a lot of beer was involved and an argument with the members of the local police ensued and everyone decided (apart from us) that it would be a good idea if we were to spend a night at their place to sleep off whatever it is you catch when you attempt to drink 22 pints in an evening.

The point of all this, is that all I remember about the whole sordid affair is an impossibly cute police officer delivering us egg McMuffins, hash browns and coffee from the Golden Arches the following morning.

If Victoria Police can serve a decent breakfast to 2 young, allegedly inebriated young men, then UA should be able to do the same.