'. . .Shannon . . . it's that stopover airport Irish governments of the past cherished so much they forced everyone to fly through it en route to the US. And they have a tired big open waiting area and a manky duty-free shop with 1970s decor. But were there ever any passengers? I can't remember!'

Exasperated, he Googled "Shannon". The search engine returned a torrent of statements from the trade unions and the government, opposition parties and local authorities. All were condemning Aer Lingus's decision to move its Heathrow flights to Belfast.

There were calls to renationalise the airline, to lavish new state subsidies on the surrounding regions to increase the population of frequent fliers there, to set up a tribunal of inquiry into why Heathrow slots were not subject to a historical preservation order. . .

Strike threats, demands for new pay talks and even a call for raising the minimum wage in the Shannon area followed . . . the usual grievances to accompany any major corporate decision in 'Celtic Garfield the fat cat' Ireland.

'Next there will be an "SOS . . .Save Our Shannon" campaign, ' thought the PR man.

With a trembling hand he dialled a number of a trusted adviser: 'We are moving out of Shannon and the media is out to get us.'

'It's a plot, ' exclaimed the guru. 'Without Shannon, we might become more profitable, complete our re-animation. . . err, restructuring plan, fly planes with more people from where the passengers want to leave to where they want to go. We will be paying real landing charges, not the Shannon solidarity- fees. We will be able to increase the number of planes servicing the routes and possibly launch several interlinked routes with a quick drop-off at Heathrow. They can't even control their own costs at Shannon!'

In the silence that ensued between them, the crackling noise across the copper wires echoed through the deep corners of the PR chief 's mind.

'I've got it!' he yelped. 'We'll blame competition for all of this! Ryanair made us do it.'

Altogether elsewhere, stretched across a vast bed befitting a gazillionaire, Michael O'Leary was perplexed: 'How on earth, after decades of daft and lossmaking government plans and directives that passed for aviation policy in this country, could Aer Lingus finally wake up to the reality of running a business?

'It's all Willie Walsh's doing. He brought the word "profit" into Aer Lingus's vocabulary.

And now. . . now they are really trying to rationalise their operations . . . despite the usual threats of strikes and demand for more pay and perks from the unions.'

In all truth, Michael did not care about what Aer Lingus did in Shannon or Belfast.

Unlike the majority of our aviation policy heads, union leaders and Aer Lingus managers, O'Leary knew the simple truth: given their size, neither Belfast nor Dublin could count as a viable base for a successful airline.

Aer Lingus's decision . . .shocking as it may be . . . was but a tiny ripple at the edge of the vast sea of global aviation Ryanair navigated on a daily basis.

'And yet, dropping Shannon makes sense, ' O'Leary thought, slipping into sleep.

The coveted Heathrow slots are too pricey a token to be sacrificed on the altar of Ireland's National Spatial Strategy gibberish. No other profit-making airline in the developed world could afford flying its least profitable planes on the Heathrow route. Plus, Aer Lingus is already showing declines in load factors on its short-haul flights, despite a rising number of travellers.

Reaching for his mobile, O'Leary called his sales department. 'Announce a new five-million-free-seats giveaway and blame Bertie for job losses at Shannon!'

That night was also sleepless across the Ulan-Bator International (aka Dublin) Airport. Like everyone else, the Dublin Airport Authority bosses knew well their own backyard was littered with the remnants of the industrial-relations strife, high operating costs and low quality of services that plague Shannon. On top of this, the DAA has no capacity to accomodate the airline's growth. Then again, Shannon . . . almost three times smaller in non-transit passenger numbers than the two Belfast airports . . . offered no hope for future growth either.

Just like all the other airports under the DAA remit, Dublin is hardly a place anyone would want to operate from unless compelled by the lack of an alternative.

The fear slowly rose in the boardroom that their own inability to sustain airline growth . . . driven by the overpriced, perpetually out-ofcapacity plans for Terminal 2 . . . could bust their cosy monopoly. Should Belfast choose to build a highspeed rail link to Dublin, there could be fewer airlines begging for slots at DAA's gates.

Flushed with a cold sweat, the chiefs penned their response to Aer Lingus's announcement. It read: 'Top Secret. Lobby the government to (a) issue a ban on highspeed rail links with Belfast, (b) ask for more money to build golden domes over Terminal 2 and (c) condemn Ryanair for "damaging competition" at Ireland's airports.'

With that, a new day in Irish aviation dawned.

Disclaimer: no executive of Aer Lingus, Ryanair or the DAA was interviewed or in any other way harmed in the preparation of this article