Graphic: how BA Connect, Ryanair and Easyjet measure up on baggage allowance, routes, punctuality, seat size and ticket flexibility

It’s hard to remember now, but we loved British Airways once. Our national airline was something to be proud of. Her smile was brighter, her planes were smarter, and flying with her was an occasion, like an anniversary dinner with your spouse — it cost a fortune, but we paid it gladly.

Then our eyes wandered, and we started slumming it. Flying with the no-frills jobs was just like an illicit affair: it was tawdry and inconvenient, it landed you in the middle of nowhere, and it wasn’t something you’d necessarily want the neighbours to know about, but the very cheapness of it gave us a sneaky thrill.

Now, like a spurned but determined wife, the old lady of the skies is loosening her stays, hitching up her skirts and making an effort to win us back. Today sees the relaunch of all BA’s short-haul flights to Europe from regional airports — as BA Connect, a new subsidiary designed to take on Ryanair, EasyJet and the rest, and beat them at their own low-cost game.

The slogan is “Same great service, new lower fares”, and the management insists it’s not a no-frills operation, though on paper it sure looks like one — no free food, no Club class and one-way tickets that, the airline says, will match the cheapies on price, but with “the added service and resources of an airline of BA’s size and stature”. In other words, the best of both worlds.

Big talk, but will BA Connect still give you that bit extra — or, from now on, should we forget flying the flag and just go for the cheapest deal we can get? Only one way to find out. Last week, I got a sneak preview of the service

BA Connect will offer — the food, the check-in and, of course, the flight. By way of comparison, I also took flights with the two low-cost high-flyers. Here’s how they shaped up.

RYANAIR

It’s arguably the most reviled airline in Europe, lurching from one PR disaster (bumping blind passengers off a plane) to the next (lax security, claimed a television documentary). But if people hate Ryanair, how come they got 33m of our bums on their seats last year? Er... no prizes for that one. We think they’re cheap.

But does that have to mean nasty? It didn’t seem so at first on my flight from Cork: check-in was clear and I was handed my boarding card with a smile. Unfortunately, it would be the last one I’d get all trip. On the back of the card there was a warning about being at the gate 20 minutes before takeoff: “THE PLANE WILL NOT WAIT”, it said in huge red capitals. Yes, I know that’s fair enough. It’s the trademark tone — petulant, officious, self-righteous — that grates a little.

Walking out over the tarmac through the rain, we climbed on board. The cabin was tatty and depressing: frayed antimacassars on the headrests, old chewing-gum wrappers on the floor, graffiti and what looked like blobs of blue paint on the seatback tables.

Nothing was quite wrong enough to complain about, but, equally, nothing was quite right enough to enjoy. There are mean little touches everywhere. The seats won’t go back (saves money on maintenance) and the magazine reads as if it’s been put together by people whose first language isn’t English. Over the PA, a recording exhorted us to buy advertising space on Ryanair, which I didn’t want to do. The crew were polite, but looked exhausted and despondent as they tried to sell us scratch cards.

A cup of tea is a hefty £1.80, and a BLT sandwich was gloppy and unpleasant. At £3.60, it was overpriced by about £3.59.

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