Plane Crazy

Ah, the Heathrow expansion debate. It’s back! Like an unkillable zombie from a low-budget horror film, it just won’t stay dead, no matter how many public inquiries, protests, and petitions we throw at it. Because clearly, what the world desperately needs right now—more than world peace, a cure for cancer, or a decent rail network—is…

Written by

David Wimble

Published on

January 30, 2025
The Rant

Ah, the Heathrow expansion debate. It’s back! Like an unkillable zombie from a low-budget horror film, it just won’t stay dead, no matter how many public inquiries, protests, and petitions we throw at it. Because clearly, what the world desperately needs right now—more than world peace, a cure for cancer, or a decent rail network—is yet another runway at Heathrow, already one of the busiest airports in the world. A logistical behemoth that’s bursting at the seams like a budget airline carry-on bag, with no signs of slowing down.

Now, for those of us in Kent—where we know a thing or two about airports—this whole debacle is an endless source of eye-rolling amusement. Allow me to enlighten you with some local wisdom. We had Manston Airport, remember that? A massive runway, ideal for freight, and for a time, it even flirted with the idea of being a passenger terminal. It was perfect! Well, almost. But then someone had the audacity to point out it was “too far from London.” Too far! Honestly, what did they expect—an express tube line running straight to Charing Cross? Never mind that Manston was perfectly positioned to relieve some of Heathrow’s pressure. Too far from London, they said. Into the bin it went.

And then there’s Lydd Airport, the Cinderella of British aviation. Once upon a time, in a golden era before package holidays to Marbella, Lydd was Britain’s second-busiest airport. Yes, you heard that right. Flights to France! Planes carrying actual cars! It was like a scene from a vintage travel poster. But did we embrace this little gem of an airport? Of course not. When the topic of modernising or expanding Lydd came up, the locals practically staged a revolt. Because nothing says “quintessentially British” like protesting against progress. So here we are, stuck between nostalgia for the past and a stubborn refusal to adapt.

You see, we Brits have a complicated relationship with airports. We love to travel. Absolutely adore it. There’s nothing we enjoy more than hopping on a plane to soak up some Mediterranean sun or a weekend jaunt to Paris. But—and this is crucial—we don’t want airports near us. Not in our backyards, no thank you. Planes are great when they’re ferrying us to foreign shores, but the moment one so much as whispers over our rooftops, we’re out in force with placards and petitions. We want the perks without the inconvenience. Classic.

And now here we are, debating Heathrow’s third runway—again. What’s the plan this time? Years of planning inquiries? Tick. Endless public consultations that nobody listens to? Tick. A sprinkling of compulsory purchase orders to forcibly evict some unfortunate souls from their homes? Tick. Oh, and let’s not forget the pièce de résistance: just when everything’s about to kick off, a shiny new government will come in, promptly scrap the whole thing, and start the process from scratch. It’s like watching a soap opera, only without the drama, intrigue, or happy endings. Just relentless, soul-crushing bureaucracy.

Of course, I’m not saying I have all the answers. Oh wait… yes I am. Remember Boris Johnson’s “Boris Island” proposal? That bold, madcap idea to build an airport on an artificial island in the Thames Estuary? At first glance, it sounded like something out of a sci-fi novel. But hang on a minute. Hong Kong did something similar, didn’t they? They relocated their airport to a man-made island, and now it’s one of the busiest and most efficient hubs in the world. You know what they don’t have in Hong Kong? Planes screaming over people’s homes at ungodly hours. Novel concept, isn’t it?

Imagine it: a shiny, new, state-of-the-art airport rising from the Thames. Thousands of jobs created. Billions pumped into the economy. Planes flying over water instead of terraced houses and suburban gardens. No more waking up to the dulcet tones of a Boeing 747 at 5 a.m. It could’ve been glorious. But no. Too difficult, apparently. Too expensive. Because heaven forbid we should invest in something forward-thinking when we can just keep flogging the Heathrow horse.

And let’s talk about the cost for a moment. Billions of pounds for an extra runway at Heathrow. Billions! Do you know what we could do with that money? We could build a dozen hospitals. Fix every pothole in the country. Modernise the railways so they don’t fall apart every time a leaf dares to land on the tracks. We could even splurge on something frivolous, like a nationwide campaign to teach people how to use self-checkout machines properly. But no, let’s pour it into Heathrow so we can all enjoy the privilege of even longer security queues and an extra hour on the tarmac waiting for a gate to free up. Priorities, eh?

And then there’s the environmental angle. Oh, the irony of expanding an airport at a time when we’re supposed to be tackling climate change. Building another runway at Heathrow is about as eco-friendly as running a diesel generator to power your electric car. But hey, who cares about carbon emissions when we can shave ten minutes off a business trip to New York? After all, the planet will sort itself out, right? It always does. Probably.

Of course, none of this will matter in the long run. The Heathrow expansion is the quintessential British infrastructure project: overcomplicated, overpriced, and guaranteed to spark outrage. And when it’s all said and done, when the runway is finally built (assuming it ever is), we’ll still be complaining. Because that’s what we do best. We’ll moan about the noise, the pollution, the traffic, and the cost. And then, when the next big infrastructure project comes along, we’ll do it all over again. Rinse and repeat.

So, here’s to another decade of debates, delays, and dashed dreams. To years of hand-wringing and head-scratching. To endless meetings, reports, and feasibility studies that nobody will read. And to the inevitable conclusion: a half-baked compromise that pleases no one and solves nothing.

 Because that’s the British way, isn’t it? 

Cheers!