Passenger terrified as ‘drunk' rowdy flyers turn Ibiza plane into ‘mid-air nightclub'
Furious Spaniard Erika Barrachina claimed she suffered a 'panic attack' after having to cope with 'scum' passengers.
The Ibiza resident blasted that these type of tourists should never have been allowed to board the plane in the first place.
Shocking footage showed a packed plane with passengers appearing to bang on luggage compartments and yell: 'Come on Ibiza!'
Multiple travellers appeared to be waving their arms and legs around while sat during the loud journey.
And some who seemingly found the whole situation hilarious decided to record the noisy chanting.
The Spanish local said that her 'flight from London to Ibiza was absolutely horrible'.
The passenger said she was 'scared' while travelling on the jet 'full of real English animals'.
'Everyone standing, screaming, guys hitting each other, drinking bottles of alcohol one after the other and stopping the flight attendants from doing their job,' she added.
The appalled passenger called her experience: 'Real hell.'
She said of the footage which she managed to record: 'This video is the just the end because I couldn't film what happened during the journey.'
Barrachina also claimed that Brit passengers were drunk and high before boarding.
She continued: 'Taking pills and drinking alcohol at the same time, which I saw with my own eyes.
'It was a really wild 2.5 hour flight.'
The Spanish passenger raged: 'This shouldn't be allowed. They shouldn't let scum like this get on a plane or sell alcohol on board.
'We don't want this type of tourism in Ibiza, they should stay at home.'
She branded the uncontrollable Brits 'wild animals'.
The Ibiza resident also told a local Ibizan newspaper: 'I'm not afraid of flying because I've flown around the world but I had a panic attack because it was like being in a pub, in a nightclub, but in the air.'
She claimed that multiple air stewards asked some of the passengers for their documentation, only to be told: 'F**k off.'
The 'wild' passengers were let off the plane after reaching Ibiza airport and identifying themselves.
EasyJet told The Sun: 'We can confirm that flight EZY2307 from Luton to Ibiza on May 16 was met by police on arrival due to a group of passengers behaving in a disruptive manner.
'The safety and wellbeing of passengers and crew is always easyJet's priority.
'Whilst such incidents are rare we take them very seriously and do not tolerate disruptive behaviour onboard.'
Barrachina posted the footage on Saturday – one day before thousands of people marched in Canary Islands capitals as part of a new anti-mass tourism protest.
Locals in the Balearic Islands, which include Ibiza, are due to stage their protest on June 15.
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The Advertiser
2 hours ago
- The Advertiser
What makes a song 'Australian'? Triple J's Hottest 100 reignites bigger question
On July 26, Triple J will broadcast the Hottest 100 Australian Songs, as voted by the public. While predictions for winners and even preemptive complaining about the shortlist are taking up column space and social media posts, there is an underlying question: what we mean when we talk about "Australian songs"? Do these songs sound a particular way? Do they express something about what it means to be Australian? Or is it purely about where the artist was born? Importantly, how will each of these factors influence voting? Musical cultures with their own unique sounds have existed on this continent for tens of thousands of years. The sound of the didgeridoo is often used as a shorthand to signify Australianness in films, television and, to a lesser extent, popular songs. However, the history of dispossession and genocidal practices that have accompanied settlement in Australia means much has been lost from these musical traditions. Indigenous performers have been actively excluded from the same music-making spaces where other songs we think of as "Australian" have been created. Since British colonisation in the late 18th century, Australian music has also been part of global music flows. Settlers arrived with songs and musical influences from their own cultures. Jazz, country, rock and pop inspired local versions of these genres. But is there anything truly Australian about such music, or is it just imitation? And this conundrum connects to wider issues of Australia's identity debated during the 20th century: was it a country, or still just a colony? Back in the 1970s, this question was also on then prime minister Gough Whitlams's mind. After his election in 1972, Whitlam gave a huge boost to funding for cultural and creative activities to "help establish and express an Australian identity through the arts", as part of a suite of nation-building activities. The dirty guitar sounds of the pub rock scene of the 1970s, with its associated subcultures, are sometimes said to be Australia's first distinct offering in post-rock 'n' roll music. This was followed by the rise of bands such as Midnight Oil and Cold Chisel, who found success not just by drawing on more local sounds, but also by referencing Australian places, politics and cultures. The Whitlam government's broadcasting reforms meant this music had homes on community radio and the new youth station 2JJ (now Triple J). The bands from this era have come to make up what might be described as the Oz rock canon - a collection of works seen to make up the "best" of the art form. Canons exert a strong influence over how we assess music, meaning these bands will probably appear in tomorrow's countdown. This idea of the rock canon is almost perfectly reflected in the ten entries by Prime Minister Anthony Albanese to tomorrow's countdown. His selection of almost 100% white male musicians encapsulates the exclusionary nature rock of this period. The fact that our last two prime ministers, despite being from opposite sides of politics, produced very similar lists, gives us insight into the persistence of this canon, and what ideas about "Australian culture" circulate in the halls of power. It's questionable whether any of the bands or songs on Albanese's list could be said to have a coherent "Australian" sound, yet they have come to hold a place in the national imagination. Triple J's Hottest 100 of All Time in 2009 was seen as a surprising recapitulation of the (male) rock canon, especially given the station's otherwise diverse playlists. However, the highest-placed Australian song on the list was The Nosebleed Section by Hilltop Hoods, representing the recent and rapid rise of Aussie hip-hop. The 2011 Hottest 100 Australian Albums of All Time (the closest forerunner to the current poll) further updated the canon, with Powderfinger's Odyssey Number Five (2000) in the top spot, and other top ten entries by electronic groups The Presets and The Avalanches. Nonetheless, the canon remained male dominated, with the highest woman-fronted album being Missy Higgins's The Sound of White (2004) at number 29. The past decade has seen a boom in Indigenous representation on Australian airwaves and stages, with artists such as Thelma Plum, Barkaa, A.B. Original and Baker Boy. These artists use a range of genres and styles to express pride in their Indigeneity, and critique Australian identity. A.B. Original's song January 26 was number 17 in 2016's Hottest 100 countdown. This was also the last year Triple J chose this date for its annual broadcast, speaking to the power of music to reflect - and even inform - popular sentiment. Given recent national debates, a strong contender for the upcoming poll is Treaty (Radio Mix) by Yothu Yindi (which ranked number 11 of all time in 1991). These shifts show how canons can be unsettled over time. Recently, Creative Australia came under fire for trying to stifle Khaled Sabsabi's politically-informed art in the interests of "social cohesion". But others pointed out art provides crucial space for challenging prevailing ideas, and that social cohesion in a democracy is not about reaching complete agreement, but being able to handle disagreement. A Hottest 100 that reflects the diversity and even the tensions in Australian society may provoke arguments, but it is in these spaces that we can reflect on what it means to live on these lands. On July 26, Triple J will broadcast the Hottest 100 Australian Songs, as voted by the public. While predictions for winners and even preemptive complaining about the shortlist are taking up column space and social media posts, there is an underlying question: what we mean when we talk about "Australian songs"? Do these songs sound a particular way? Do they express something about what it means to be Australian? Or is it purely about where the artist was born? Importantly, how will each of these factors influence voting? Musical cultures with their own unique sounds have existed on this continent for tens of thousands of years. The sound of the didgeridoo is often used as a shorthand to signify Australianness in films, television and, to a lesser extent, popular songs. However, the history of dispossession and genocidal practices that have accompanied settlement in Australia means much has been lost from these musical traditions. Indigenous performers have been actively excluded from the same music-making spaces where other songs we think of as "Australian" have been created. Since British colonisation in the late 18th century, Australian music has also been part of global music flows. Settlers arrived with songs and musical influences from their own cultures. Jazz, country, rock and pop inspired local versions of these genres. But is there anything truly Australian about such music, or is it just imitation? And this conundrum connects to wider issues of Australia's identity debated during the 20th century: was it a country, or still just a colony? Back in the 1970s, this question was also on then prime minister Gough Whitlams's mind. After his election in 1972, Whitlam gave a huge boost to funding for cultural and creative activities to "help establish and express an Australian identity through the arts", as part of a suite of nation-building activities. The dirty guitar sounds of the pub rock scene of the 1970s, with its associated subcultures, are sometimes said to be Australia's first distinct offering in post-rock 'n' roll music. This was followed by the rise of bands such as Midnight Oil and Cold Chisel, who found success not just by drawing on more local sounds, but also by referencing Australian places, politics and cultures. The Whitlam government's broadcasting reforms meant this music had homes on community radio and the new youth station 2JJ (now Triple J). The bands from this era have come to make up what might be described as the Oz rock canon - a collection of works seen to make up the "best" of the art form. Canons exert a strong influence over how we assess music, meaning these bands will probably appear in tomorrow's countdown. This idea of the rock canon is almost perfectly reflected in the ten entries by Prime Minister Anthony Albanese to tomorrow's countdown. His selection of almost 100% white male musicians encapsulates the exclusionary nature rock of this period. The fact that our last two prime ministers, despite being from opposite sides of politics, produced very similar lists, gives us insight into the persistence of this canon, and what ideas about "Australian culture" circulate in the halls of power. It's questionable whether any of the bands or songs on Albanese's list could be said to have a coherent "Australian" sound, yet they have come to hold a place in the national imagination. Triple J's Hottest 100 of All Time in 2009 was seen as a surprising recapitulation of the (male) rock canon, especially given the station's otherwise diverse playlists. However, the highest-placed Australian song on the list was The Nosebleed Section by Hilltop Hoods, representing the recent and rapid rise of Aussie hip-hop. The 2011 Hottest 100 Australian Albums of All Time (the closest forerunner to the current poll) further updated the canon, with Powderfinger's Odyssey Number Five (2000) in the top spot, and other top ten entries by electronic groups The Presets and The Avalanches. Nonetheless, the canon remained male dominated, with the highest woman-fronted album being Missy Higgins's The Sound of White (2004) at number 29. The past decade has seen a boom in Indigenous representation on Australian airwaves and stages, with artists such as Thelma Plum, Barkaa, A.B. Original and Baker Boy. These artists use a range of genres and styles to express pride in their Indigeneity, and critique Australian identity. A.B. Original's song January 26 was number 17 in 2016's Hottest 100 countdown. This was also the last year Triple J chose this date for its annual broadcast, speaking to the power of music to reflect - and even inform - popular sentiment. Given recent national debates, a strong contender for the upcoming poll is Treaty (Radio Mix) by Yothu Yindi (which ranked number 11 of all time in 1991). These shifts show how canons can be unsettled over time. Recently, Creative Australia came under fire for trying to stifle Khaled Sabsabi's politically-informed art in the interests of "social cohesion". But others pointed out art provides crucial space for challenging prevailing ideas, and that social cohesion in a democracy is not about reaching complete agreement, but being able to handle disagreement. A Hottest 100 that reflects the diversity and even the tensions in Australian society may provoke arguments, but it is in these spaces that we can reflect on what it means to live on these lands. On July 26, Triple J will broadcast the Hottest 100 Australian Songs, as voted by the public. While predictions for winners and even preemptive complaining about the shortlist are taking up column space and social media posts, there is an underlying question: what we mean when we talk about "Australian songs"? Do these songs sound a particular way? Do they express something about what it means to be Australian? Or is it purely about where the artist was born? Importantly, how will each of these factors influence voting? Musical cultures with their own unique sounds have existed on this continent for tens of thousands of years. The sound of the didgeridoo is often used as a shorthand to signify Australianness in films, television and, to a lesser extent, popular songs. However, the history of dispossession and genocidal practices that have accompanied settlement in Australia means much has been lost from these musical traditions. Indigenous performers have been actively excluded from the same music-making spaces where other songs we think of as "Australian" have been created. Since British colonisation in the late 18th century, Australian music has also been part of global music flows. Settlers arrived with songs and musical influences from their own cultures. Jazz, country, rock and pop inspired local versions of these genres. But is there anything truly Australian about such music, or is it just imitation? And this conundrum connects to wider issues of Australia's identity debated during the 20th century: was it a country, or still just a colony? Back in the 1970s, this question was also on then prime minister Gough Whitlams's mind. After his election in 1972, Whitlam gave a huge boost to funding for cultural and creative activities to "help establish and express an Australian identity through the arts", as part of a suite of nation-building activities. The dirty guitar sounds of the pub rock scene of the 1970s, with its associated subcultures, are sometimes said to be Australia's first distinct offering in post-rock 'n' roll music. This was followed by the rise of bands such as Midnight Oil and Cold Chisel, who found success not just by drawing on more local sounds, but also by referencing Australian places, politics and cultures. The Whitlam government's broadcasting reforms meant this music had homes on community radio and the new youth station 2JJ (now Triple J). The bands from this era have come to make up what might be described as the Oz rock canon - a collection of works seen to make up the "best" of the art form. Canons exert a strong influence over how we assess music, meaning these bands will probably appear in tomorrow's countdown. This idea of the rock canon is almost perfectly reflected in the ten entries by Prime Minister Anthony Albanese to tomorrow's countdown. His selection of almost 100% white male musicians encapsulates the exclusionary nature rock of this period. The fact that our last two prime ministers, despite being from opposite sides of politics, produced very similar lists, gives us insight into the persistence of this canon, and what ideas about "Australian culture" circulate in the halls of power. It's questionable whether any of the bands or songs on Albanese's list could be said to have a coherent "Australian" sound, yet they have come to hold a place in the national imagination. Triple J's Hottest 100 of All Time in 2009 was seen as a surprising recapitulation of the (male) rock canon, especially given the station's otherwise diverse playlists. However, the highest-placed Australian song on the list was The Nosebleed Section by Hilltop Hoods, representing the recent and rapid rise of Aussie hip-hop. The 2011 Hottest 100 Australian Albums of All Time (the closest forerunner to the current poll) further updated the canon, with Powderfinger's Odyssey Number Five (2000) in the top spot, and other top ten entries by electronic groups The Presets and The Avalanches. Nonetheless, the canon remained male dominated, with the highest woman-fronted album being Missy Higgins's The Sound of White (2004) at number 29. The past decade has seen a boom in Indigenous representation on Australian airwaves and stages, with artists such as Thelma Plum, Barkaa, A.B. Original and Baker Boy. These artists use a range of genres and styles to express pride in their Indigeneity, and critique Australian identity. A.B. Original's song January 26 was number 17 in 2016's Hottest 100 countdown. This was also the last year Triple J chose this date for its annual broadcast, speaking to the power of music to reflect - and even inform - popular sentiment. Given recent national debates, a strong contender for the upcoming poll is Treaty (Radio Mix) by Yothu Yindi (which ranked number 11 of all time in 1991). These shifts show how canons can be unsettled over time. Recently, Creative Australia came under fire for trying to stifle Khaled Sabsabi's politically-informed art in the interests of "social cohesion". But others pointed out art provides crucial space for challenging prevailing ideas, and that social cohesion in a democracy is not about reaching complete agreement, but being able to handle disagreement. A Hottest 100 that reflects the diversity and even the tensions in Australian society may provoke arguments, but it is in these spaces that we can reflect on what it means to live on these lands. On July 26, Triple J will broadcast the Hottest 100 Australian Songs, as voted by the public. While predictions for winners and even preemptive complaining about the shortlist are taking up column space and social media posts, there is an underlying question: what we mean when we talk about "Australian songs"? Do these songs sound a particular way? Do they express something about what it means to be Australian? Or is it purely about where the artist was born? Importantly, how will each of these factors influence voting? Musical cultures with their own unique sounds have existed on this continent for tens of thousands of years. The sound of the didgeridoo is often used as a shorthand to signify Australianness in films, television and, to a lesser extent, popular songs. However, the history of dispossession and genocidal practices that have accompanied settlement in Australia means much has been lost from these musical traditions. Indigenous performers have been actively excluded from the same music-making spaces where other songs we think of as "Australian" have been created. Since British colonisation in the late 18th century, Australian music has also been part of global music flows. Settlers arrived with songs and musical influences from their own cultures. Jazz, country, rock and pop inspired local versions of these genres. But is there anything truly Australian about such music, or is it just imitation? And this conundrum connects to wider issues of Australia's identity debated during the 20th century: was it a country, or still just a colony? Back in the 1970s, this question was also on then prime minister Gough Whitlams's mind. After his election in 1972, Whitlam gave a huge boost to funding for cultural and creative activities to "help establish and express an Australian identity through the arts", as part of a suite of nation-building activities. The dirty guitar sounds of the pub rock scene of the 1970s, with its associated subcultures, are sometimes said to be Australia's first distinct offering in post-rock 'n' roll music. This was followed by the rise of bands such as Midnight Oil and Cold Chisel, who found success not just by drawing on more local sounds, but also by referencing Australian places, politics and cultures. The Whitlam government's broadcasting reforms meant this music had homes on community radio and the new youth station 2JJ (now Triple J). The bands from this era have come to make up what might be described as the Oz rock canon - a collection of works seen to make up the "best" of the art form. Canons exert a strong influence over how we assess music, meaning these bands will probably appear in tomorrow's countdown. This idea of the rock canon is almost perfectly reflected in the ten entries by Prime Minister Anthony Albanese to tomorrow's countdown. His selection of almost 100% white male musicians encapsulates the exclusionary nature rock of this period. The fact that our last two prime ministers, despite being from opposite sides of politics, produced very similar lists, gives us insight into the persistence of this canon, and what ideas about "Australian culture" circulate in the halls of power. It's questionable whether any of the bands or songs on Albanese's list could be said to have a coherent "Australian" sound, yet they have come to hold a place in the national imagination. Triple J's Hottest 100 of All Time in 2009 was seen as a surprising recapitulation of the (male) rock canon, especially given the station's otherwise diverse playlists. However, the highest-placed Australian song on the list was The Nosebleed Section by Hilltop Hoods, representing the recent and rapid rise of Aussie hip-hop. The 2011 Hottest 100 Australian Albums of All Time (the closest forerunner to the current poll) further updated the canon, with Powderfinger's Odyssey Number Five (2000) in the top spot, and other top ten entries by electronic groups The Presets and The Avalanches. Nonetheless, the canon remained male dominated, with the highest woman-fronted album being Missy Higgins's The Sound of White (2004) at number 29. The past decade has seen a boom in Indigenous representation on Australian airwaves and stages, with artists such as Thelma Plum, Barkaa, A.B. Original and Baker Boy. These artists use a range of genres and styles to express pride in their Indigeneity, and critique Australian identity. A.B. Original's song January 26 was number 17 in 2016's Hottest 100 countdown. This was also the last year Triple J chose this date for its annual broadcast, speaking to the power of music to reflect - and even inform - popular sentiment. Given recent national debates, a strong contender for the upcoming poll is Treaty (Radio Mix) by Yothu Yindi (which ranked number 11 of all time in 1991). These shifts show how canons can be unsettled over time. Recently, Creative Australia came under fire for trying to stifle Khaled Sabsabi's politically-informed art in the interests of "social cohesion". But others pointed out art provides crucial space for challenging prevailing ideas, and that social cohesion in a democracy is not about reaching complete agreement, but being able to handle disagreement. A Hottest 100 that reflects the diversity and even the tensions in Australian society may provoke arguments, but it is in these spaces that we can reflect on what it means to live on these lands.
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'Living Nostradamus' Athos Salomé issues sombre forecast about Prince Harry and King Charles III amid whispers of a potential Royal Family reconciliation
A Brazilian psychic widely referred to as the 'Living Nostradamus' has made an eerie prediction about the future for Prince Harry and the Royal Family. Athos Salomé, 38, has previously made forecasts surrounding global events such as the COVID-19 pandemic, the Microsoft global outage and the death of Queen Elizabeth II. Because of this, Salomé's followers believe he has an extraordinary gift for foreseeing world events, drawing comparisons to the famed 16th-century seer Nostradamus. Salomé claims his predictions are based on studies in Kabbalah, the ancient Jewish tradition of mystical biblical interpretation, as well as analysis of symbolic patterns and power cycles. In a new interview with The Sun on Thursday, Salomé said his analysis points to Prince Harry travelling back to the UK before the European summer of 2026, not as a heartfelt family reunion, but as part of "an image survival strategy". "Harry knows that he needs to regain some of the British support if he wants to maintain institutional relevance," he told the publication, adding that his wife - Meghan Markle - may stay behind in the US or make "restricted appearances" during the visit. Unfortunately, the Brazilian psychic stated that the Kabbalah ultimately indicates signs of "limited reconciliation" between the 40-year-old Prince and the 76-year-old King, who has been battling an undisclosed form of cancer since February 2024. The prediction follows growing speculation about a possible thaw in the frosty relationship between the Sussexes and the Royal Family, which has remained fractured since Harry and Meghan's departure from royal duties and move to the US in 2020. Two weeks ago, Harry's new chief communications officer Meredith Maines and UK PR rep Liam Maguire were spotted meeting with the King's top aide, Communications Secretary Tobyn Andreae, at London's Royal Over-Seas League. While there was reportedly "no formal agenda", royal insiders said the casual meeting marked a significant shift in tone. "There's a long road ahead, but a channel of communication is now open for the first time in years," a source told The Mail on Sunday, which first revealed the sit-down. Maines, who joined Harry's team in March, was also behind the Duke's May BBC interview where he declared he "would love a reconciliation" with his family. However, not everyone is convinced of the sincerity behind the outreach. On Wednesday, royal commentator Robert Jobson suggested the meeting may have been financially motivated, following reports that streaming giant Netflix will scrap the couple's $100 million deal due to poor ratings. "Well, the deal was always set about $100 million, wasn't it?" Jobson said during The Sun's Royal Exclusive show. "Where does it leave them? Probably with a bit of a bowl out, looking for some handouts. "They can't rely on the Spare money forever, can they?" he added, referencing Harry's bestselling 2023 memoir. As for Harry and Meghan's relationship, Salomé does not foresee a divorce - but believes a professional and emotional rift is forming. "They may remain married for convenience and brand management," he said. "But emotionally, they will be more distant than ever." Already, the Duke and Duchess, who share six-year-old Prince Archie and four-year-old Princess Lilibet, appear to be operating along increasingly separate lines. Meghan is said to be focusing all efforts on her lifestyle brand, As Ever, while Harry is doubling down on his work with the Invictus Games and mental health causes. According to Salomé, this division may become a "model of cohabitation" that is more functional than heartfelt. But he also warned of obstacles ahead, particularly for Meghan. "According to the predictions from the Kabbalah, there are strong indications of problems in the production chain and the exhaustion of the niche if she doesn't reinvent the brand's storytelling," he said.
