This is no Air New Zealand. There are no immaculate air hostesses who look like Catherine Zeta Jones. There are no hot meals halfway to Sydney or teeny tubs of locally-made ice cream. There's no curtain separating the 'classy' passengers from the rest. To be honest, there are no classy passengers.

I am traveling from London to Spain on a much-mocked and moaned about budget airline. And I'm loving the spectacle.

My boyfriend and I are going to Barcelona for four days with tickets which we bought for one penny each. After the taxes and baggage charges are thrown in, the flight still costs us less than my daily wage.

Living in the UK has its ups and downs but with European escapes so affordable, you'd be mad to complain about traveling sans style. We will miss the complimentary ice cream, but we can always stock up on the Spanish equivalent.

They say life is all about the journey, not the destination but when you're taking a flight, it's normally all about the destination.

So I am delighted to discover that when you're 'going Dutch,' the trip itself is a jolly journey, a comedic ride through the sky with all the makings of a spoof movie.

For a start, the flight attendants are far from the picture of elegance you expect from the profession. They even star in their own 'nudie' calendar - classily done of course. And they walk down the aisle cracking jokes!

While offering up the new 'rich and creamy cappuccino' and the 'refreshing fruit smoothies,' one host throws in the jokey 'Bloody Mary anyone?' I nearly die laughing when one Brit behind me perks up and says 'Do you really sell Bloody Marys,' only to be shot down by the host and made to look like a raging alcoholic. It is eight in the morning after all.

These flights are all about the advertising. Everywhere I turn there are blatant attempts to make money. On the back of every seat is an ad for giving up smoking. On the overhead lockers there are more ads and inside the airline magazine you can order a crazy selection of goods.

During the whole flight there's no chance of reading a book because of the constant loudspeaker announcements for bus tickets in your final destination, 'crisp' chardonnay, jewellery and - best of all - scratchy cards! Here's a place where you can drink and gamble before lunch time, all while tearing through the air to a new place to drink and gamble. What a journey.

Everything is horrendously priced of course and the most outrageous of all is the humble can of Coke, which sparks a deep discussion with my boyfriend. I am strangely attracted to spending £2.50 on the smallest can of Coca Cola on the planet, while Tim just finds it ludicrous. To me, it makes the most normal of drinks somewhat alluring, like caviar, and I decide to get one.

Cue chaos. The flight attendants don't have any change on them. We spend £5 on the Coke (it's going to taste so good now) with the promise of change at the end of the flight. Yeah right! They are too busy wandering down the aisle every five minutes offering more and more goods, desperate for everyone to part with their pounds or expend their recently purchased euros.

What really has me chuckling in my tight, garishly coloured airline seat is the irony of it all. Here we are on a penny flight with a bunch of people who have also paid peanuts for today's travel. And here is the crew trained to chase us to spend money for the whole two hour trip to Barcelona.

It's never going to happen with the bunch of cheapskates who got up at four in the morning just to save on flights! Not when there's tapas, sangria, mojitos and mosaic souvenirs waiting for us in Spain.