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IT’S TIME FOR the Battle of the Billionaires. Call it the Mumble in the Jungle or the Spite of the Century.
You don’t even need a Netflix subscription to watch the big fight. Just log onto X (the toilet-formerly-known-as-Twitter) and read what Elon Musk and Michael O’Leary have to say about each other.
In the era of the Doom Scroll, this is the feel-bad story of the week that no one asked for. The tale runs essentially thus:
Musk owns a company called Starlink, a collection of low-orbiting satellites providing high-speed internet. Last week, he posted that Ryanair, still Europe’s largest airline, could use the service to provide WiFi on its flights.
O’Leary shot back by saying that Musk is ‘very wealthy, but he’s still an idiot’.
Wouldn’t some in-flight internet access be nice, though? According to O’Leary, adding the necessary antennas to his planes would push up costs, and passengers would be unwilling to pay for it.
He’s not wrong. His entire business model is about offering low-fare, low-self-esteem air travel. Flying with Ryanair may be a sometimes miserable experience, but you’ll save like €20 – 30 quid, and that’s money you could spend pouring alcohol into your pathetic face at the airport. That’s the deal, and it’s one many of us are willing to make.
Musk responded to O’Leary’s insult by being the bigger man and moving on, setting an example for his children and wider society alike…
LOL, no, he did not; he called O’Leary ‘ret***ed’ and threatened to buy Ryanair just so he could fire him.
EU rules mean that the majority owners of its airlines must be based in Europe, so Musk’s megalomaniac fever dream is not likely to become a reality. But in this period of history, when the ultra-wealthy troll the rest of us for sport, pointing out silly old laws feels antiquated. So let’s go back to analysing their petty squabble.
A combative personality is probably what it takes to make it to the top. Both men came from nothing, after all. Musk went to South Africa’s most prestigious boarding school; O’Leary went to Ireland’s most prestigious boarding school. It’s a miracle that they’re not sleeping under a bridge somewhere, jostling with hobos for scraps of rubbish.
Rich guys probably get into rows with each other all the time. But let’s not pretend like this is a fair fight. Musk is worth an estimated $769bn, while O’Leary is only barely worth one billion.
What a plucky underdog he is. He’s practically a pauper. These days, if a mere billionaire showed up at a San-Francisco-Oligarch-Satanist-Sex-Party, the assembled tech bros – naked except for their beaked leather masks — would point at the meagre bank balance, and laugh said billionaire out of the building. This is the time we now live in; just one billion is chump change.
The scale of these two men’s ambitions couldn’t be more different. Musk wants to dismantle the American government, influence overseas elections and colonise Mars. O’Leary wants to sell you scratch cards and aftershave while you fly to Lanzarote on your hollibops.
In purely comic-book super villain terms, Musk is Lex Luther, O’Leary is the Penguin. While Musk appears to want world domination, I get the sense that O’Leary would be quite content with a bucket of raw fish.
For the avoidance of doubt: I think O’Leary is a dose. But he’s our dose. After centuries of being tormented by British robber barons, we’ve finally produced one of our own. Come on, Ireland!
Whatever way you weigh it up, Elon Musk may be many things, but funny is not one of them. Michael O’Leary, Ireland’s answer to Marmite, at least understands the value of a good laugh. Some would say he’s made a career out of the irreverent, headline-grabbing media approach.
In contrast, Musk’s Twitter feed — blasted out to his 232 million followers — reads like a river of intrusive thoughts, unfiltered and deeply convinced of their own brilliance. They say we’re all now trapped in echo chambers, and if so, Musk has kitted his out with mirrors, a megaphone and an applause sign. And when the laughter doesn’t come, he simply cannot cope.
It’s hard to imagine the captains of industry of yesteryear quarrelling in such an inglorious fashion. You’d have to imagine that when men like John D. Rockefeller or Cornelius Vanderbilt had disagreements, they met in private and settled things like gentlemen.
If only O’Leary and Musk could find a quiet place where they could talk things through. Perhaps they could take one of Musk’s rockets to outer space, for instance. Think the final scene in Don’t Look Up, when the billionaires find a whole new planet to hang out on. Cheap discount flights to Musk’s Mars, drinks not included.
Maybe then, we’d all get some peace.
Peter Flanagan is an Irish comedian and writer.
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