A thousand passengers confined to their cabins. Tourists staring out at the grey Southampton drizzle from behind sealed windows. This is not the welcome the British tourism industry had in mind. The quarantine of a major cruise liner anchored off the south coast has exposed the fragile ground on which the promised revival of UK cruise travel rests.

For the workers on board, the reality is far from the glossy brochures. Cabin crew, kitchen porters and cleaners are now the ones cleaning up the mess of a public health crisis they did not create. Many are on zero-hours contracts, brought in for the summer season. They face lost wages, uncertain shifts and the fear of infection. The union representing maritime staff has called for an immediate independent inquiry into hygiene standards across the entire fleet.

Yet the government continues to tout cruise tourism as a key pillar of the post-pandemic economy. They are banking on a wave of passengers eager to sail from British ports, spending money in coastal communities from the Isle of Wight to Inverness. But how can you sell a holiday when the very ship becomes a prison?

This is not a question of public relations. It is a question of the real economy. A single quarantine can devastate a port town dependent on the weekly turn-around of passengers. It can destroy the livelihoods of the coach drivers, hotel cleaners and café workers who rely on the trickle-down from the cruise industry. They are the ones who pay the price when standards slip.

We must ask ourselves: are we building a tourism boom on a foundation of sand? The answer lies not in press releases but in the quarantine logbooks, the union complaints and the wages of the crew. Until hygiene is treated as a worker’s right, not a marketing tool, the boom will remain a bust for the majority.