the inaugural voyage of Easycruise One

[Jason]

What's orange and floats? That's easy... Carole Cadwalladr sets sail with Stelios, the Easyjet entrepreneur, who aims to send the masses on low-cost cruises with his bright orange liner

Sunday May 8, 2005, The Observer

Day one of Easycruise's inaugural voyage, and on deck Stelios is showing off his new ship. 'What do you think? Do you like the colour? I think the hot tub is going to be a lot of fun, don't you?'

Meanwhile, Eric discovers there's a bathroom problem that looks like it could get out of hand. 'We've got a serious toilet backup situation here,' he said.

Upstairs in the bar, however, Pinky has found a new friend. 'Have you seen the cameraman? He's really hot. No, I mean really hot.'

On the French Riviera yesterday, Stelios Haji-Ioannou launched his latest venture, a 170-passenger newly renovated ship called Easycruise One that he claimed would 'offer something very different from any other sort of cruise'.

But was that because it was the first vessel of a new no-frills cruise line? Or because it was the kick-off to a new docusoap? And that great big orange thing in the middle of Nice harbour? Was it really a ship? Or some sort of anarcho-revolutionary act deliberately designed to annoy French people?

If this was so, it seemed to be working. 'It's not a ship!' a shop owner in a nearby street said. 'It's an abomination!' He declined to be named. 'You can call me a patriot.'

One man's abomination though, is another man's bargain basement Riviera cruise. And Stelios's mission is to do for cruising what Easyjet did for flying. In 1995, he changed the nature of Europe's aviation industry by borrowing a couple of planes and getting rid of food, tickets and sensible ideas about what colour you could and couldn't paint an aircraft.

Ten years on, he's bought a second-hand casino boat, ripped out the innards, and is offering cabins starting at £25 per person on an itinerary that takes in the swankiest resorts on the Cote d'Azur.

'There is nothing you can compare it to,' he said. 'It's going to create its own market and none of us know quite what to expect. We don't even know who's booking it yet. It's a whole new breed of cruiser.'

But what sort of 'cruising' does he mean? And had the ship really already been nicknamed Easyshag.com? Or was it true that the Sky TV producers on board had merely planted that as an auto-suggestive rumour?

Everywhere there were questions. Such as, was it really such a good idea, Stelios, to paint over the portholes? Stelios, stalking the decks in a dapper, nautical blazer, was attacking his new role with customary gusto. As the son of a Greek shipping magnate, though, his Captain-Birdseye-meets-Demis-Roussos look had a certain air of authenticity. Film crews jostled for his attention. FOSes (Friends of Stelios), gorgeous young lovelies, drifted around falling out of tiny bikinis. And 40 or so 'ordinary holidaymakers' who'd happened to book themselves on to the first cruise were feeding each other the latest wild rumours.

'Have you heard? All the drinks are free! We couldn't believe it,' said Rosemary Garland, a 35-year-old pensions administrator from Fife. She had booked herself and her partner, Mark, a week's cruise from Nice to Cannes to San Tropez to Monaco to Genoa to Portofino to Imperia and then back to Nice again for a grand total of £250 each including flights. 'How fantastic is that! You can't go on holiday in Scotland for that. And look at that view!'

The view was of the sun setting over gin palaces and sailing yachts and the pastel-coloured buildings of the port of Nice. And there right next to Easycruise One was the Golden Odyssey, an enormous gleaming white motor yacht bristling with satellite navigation systems and flunkies in gold epaulettes. It was, allegedly, owned by a Saudi prince. Or possibly the president of Pepsico. Or was that Mexico? In any case, the view from his boat, Rosemary speculated, was perhaps a little less pleasing than ours.

What will the residents of the tiny chi-chi village of Portafino make of it, parked in their bay? 'Maybe they will like orange! I hope so,' said Stelios. But then it's this sort of optimism that has seen him stand by Easyinternetcafe and Easyrentacar as they haemorrhaged money.

He alleges that his customers are 'young and fun,' and respond to the orangeness. 'It stands out,' he said. Although why you would want your headboard and shower units to 'stand out' remains unclear. When asked to describe his cabin, Conan O'Driscoll, a 27-year-old engineer from the Wirrall, described it as 'scary'.

Still it should put off the old folk which is Stelios's real motive. 'Our customers are between 18 and 40, they're independently minded and they will want to interact with one another,' he said.

'By 'interact,' Stelios, do you mean 'sleep'?' asked a journalist. Stelios hedged: 'I think people will want to have fun... in different ways.'

Sky TV is confident enough that the hot tub and the bar, selling pints for £2.30, will do the trick. It has stationed three crews on board to film Cruising With Stelios. Charles Wace, the executive producer, admits that he's hoping it might become something of a 'party boat'.

'There are quite a few single-sex parties booked,' he said. 'So we're hoping there'll be a bit of action.'

Meanwhile the cameramen roamed the corridors looking for loose women and amorous second-mates, but had to content themselves with Stelios's posse of It girls ranged around the hot tub.

Pinky, who works in events management and was wearing Liz Hurley-style beachwear teamed with Liz Hurley-style vowels, had persuaded the security guard to let her look at the photos of all available men on board and claims to have memorised their cabin numbers.

'I would definitely come back. I'd come with my girl friends and just go party, party, partying.'

But would it revolutionise the cruise industry? Douglas Ward, the editor of the Berlitz Guide to Ocean Cruising and Cruise Ships, thought not, but said that in an industry worth £10 billion a year, there was money to be made. 'It's the fastest-growing segment of the fastest-growing industry on earth,' he said. 'But it's not like a proper cruise.'

Day two on the Easycruise boat seemed to prove this. It finally left Nice at 8.30am. Arrival time in Cannes would be 1.30pm, announced the Tannoy. It would take five hours to travel around 20 miles. This seems to be confusing a number of people, not least the crew. 'We take the long route,' said one of the three front-desk Liverpudlians. A rumour was spreading that one of them was the scary woman from Airline who used to make the passengers burst into tears. It turned out not to be true.

'It would be quicker to walk,' muttered Andrew Craig from Aberdeen. A TV crew loomed, sensing possible passenger agitation. 'I'm getting right fed up of them as well,' he said.

But an hour later Easycruise One finally reached Cannes. The ship moored between the Salle des Festivals and the QE2. The passengers walked off into the sunshine. Although the toilet on the fifth floor was still seriously backed up.