A vast array of potentially life-altering products is available for purchase on this very flight. We must be the luckiest bunch of people currently hurtling across the Atlantic in an overheated tin can. A singing toothbrush, which would play my favourite Justin Bieber hits as I brush, could be mine for a mere $14.99. It is part of the advertised collection of 'life-compatible electronics, designed to help you get things done!' All my other electronics are life-incompatible, I suddenly fear. I wonder if I have any headroom on my credit card.
The next page offers a selection of products that promise to maximise wellness. Well of course I am eager to boost my wellness by whatever means possible. Do they take me for some kind of fool? Perhaps I ought to equip myself with a handy device, designed to check for cardiac arrhythmias as I engage in strenuous activity 'on the golf course, while shopping or in front of TV'. Or I could expand the life expectancy of my dress shirt, by purchasing one with a detachable Velcro collar. It looks very smart indeed on the handsome model, who is holding his blazer by the hook at the collar, so that it is draped casually over his shoulder. He gazes sternly at the camera. A special spread of pain relievers features pictures of supine men in suits, smiling blissfully as they are pummelled and kneaded by an assortment of ergonomic plastic goods.
A beauty cream proclaims radical innovation in age-defence through the use of stem cells. Closer examination reveals the cells in question to be extracted from the stems of unspecified plants. I can't see any differences between the before and after pictures, close-ups of a woman's face. I peer closer. The after picture seems to hint at the beginnings of a moustache.
I want to read more about the stylish limited edition Coke-bottle cooler, which turns the classic Coca Cola bottle into a unique personal fridge, but a previous passenger has torn the advert out.