Holiday Observations
This post is a bit random but hopefully it entertains you whilst you’re crouched on your toilet, looking for things to do to pass the time between urination and defecation (or whatever else you do on the throne)
It was inspired by two things really. The first being on a delayed 3 hour flight with fuck all to do. The second being Charlie Sheens new memoir, which had me hooked instantly and made me realise how much I miss writing. So here I am, talking smack to my IPAD from EasyJet row 17a.
I was unsure of the style in which to write this but to be honest I lose so much motivation to be creative if I think about it too long that on this occasion I’m not going to fret too much and just get down to the nitty gritty. Without further ado, here are things I’d like to chat shit about from my holiday to Corfu, if you’d care to lend me your eyes.
Crazy Taxi Drivers With Stories No One Asked For
Why is it when you go anywhere in Europe, the taxi drivers don’t seem to give the slightest shite about your regard for life? We arrived off the plane in darkness and got smuggled into a six seater cab by the tour operator with two random people. I felt like I was about to be interrogated by someone from the Sons of Anarchy. The driver, Panos was his name, then proceeded to spend the next 15 minutes telling us how he’s a chauffeur for movie stars during his summer job, whilst holding up his phone to show us selfies with Hollywoods elite. He didn’t appear to spend much time focusing on the road ahead as he told us how chill Robert De Niro is and how much of a bell end Daniel Craig was. I was dog tired at this point and I may be doing the man a disservice but I’m pretty sure one of the photos of him and Jason Statham looked like it had been merged together on MS Paint 1997. To add to that one of the random other holiday makers chipped in, telling us that her daughter does makeup for Brad Pitt. I didn’t have the energy to boast of my meeting with Joey Swoll last year so kept my head down.
Weirdly, Panos didn’t pause for breath for the first part of the journey but then didn’t say another word for the following half hour. Slightly eerie that silence, almost if he was letting us decide if we believed his story or not.
I’m always a bit nervous being ferried off into the narrow streets and rolling hills of a strange new place in pitch black conditions as it feels like you’re either going to end up roof down in a ditch like you’ve tried to overtake Max Verstappen or worse - be murdered or mugged by a local drug cartel. I’m some ways I do admire their driving skills and enthusiasm to get you to your location as quickly as possible but sometimes going 95mph in a 10mph zone seems excessive unless you’re in danger of missing your flight, then and only then is it fine.
Happily he neither crashed or threatened to steal our sweets so we arrived safely. I’ll see you in the distant background of the next Godfather film Panos , or most likely at Huntingdon taxi rank waiting to pick up Betty from her next hospital appointment. Go Betty!
People Walk Funny On Holiday
Anyone else notice this or is it just me? I have a theory that people walk funny on holiday for a few reasons. Primarily, because they can’t be fucked to walk properly. They are on holiday after all. The other reason could be that by spending the last 8 days lying on a sun bed with their genitals hanging out their joints may be stiffer than usual. In any case the notable walks I’ve seen in the last week include the Andre Agassi penguin pitter patter, the side lean, the duck, the Komodo dragon hip swing, the walk where someone looks like they’ve just reacted badly to some Indian street food and then the one I like to call “The Dennis Rodman.” Why? Imagine how Madonna may have walked the day after making wild love to “The ROD” in the 1990s. Interestingly I only saw one lady walk like this the whole time we were away. She was definitely in her twilight years and with a female companion so let your imaginations run wild on this one.
Old Men and Three Quarter Lengths
No. No.No.
And just when you think it may be a maybe or a yes, turn that shit straight back to a NO. Listen, I love older men the appropriate amount, roughly the same equivalent of how much ya Grandma does. Hell, it won’t be long before I am one. But there’s not a single reason why three quarter length trousers are ever acceptable to wear. I want to keep this really short so the message doesn’t get lost.
EITHER WEAR SHORTS OR LONG TROUSERS/JEANS/KHAKIS.
Sitting in the dining room day after day watching streams of former lotharios stroll in for dinner with the three quarter lengths and sandals combo nearly made me regurgitate my mediterranean fish right back on the plate. Look, they may be comfortable and cheap to buy but THEY LOOK TERRIBLE. I know what you’re doing now, looking through my Facebook photos to arm yourselves with ammo to come back at me with. I do not claim to be a fashion king. One time I looked like a lesbian for a considerable period of time but I will still stand firm on this no matter what horrendous images you find of me - burn the fucking things and never look back.
P.s I definitely felt like everyone who was wearing them was named Bob. I need some feedback from a Bob out there please. Any Bob will do.
Pool DRAMA
There’s very little to do on lazy pool days except read or listen to music, which after a while gets as tedious as yet another Cliff Richard Christmas calendar. That’s where you do the done thing - listen out for ‘‘pool drama.’’
Fortunately on day three of our holiday we found some. Five plump ladies from Newcastle on a hen do gathered like the avengers in the shallow end to dissect the messy night before. I pulled an earphone out and dipped my sunglasses in preparation. Once I’d confirmed my suspicions I decided to directly get involved so I got in the pool and asked them outright what the heck had happened.
Bit of a risk you may say but my bravery was met with immediate group laughter and a willingness to spill everything to a handsome stranger. I tell you, if you ever want to de-arm a group of girls just go in with a slight ‘gay best friend ‘ angle. Nice open body language and frosted tips works well. They will tell you everything you want to know. So I camped my way in.
Turns out one of the ‘lesser known’ members of the party, a lass aged 55 and former wife of a millionaire got , as the bubbly blonde member of the group put it put it, “ Mortalled” drunk and was found in a very bizarre state the next morning. Picture this - upright in bed, fully clothed grasping a wine glass in one hand and a vape in the other, passed out and dribbling like a leaky tap.
Apparently when the other girls assessed the room they found toilet paper scattered on the floor covered in red wine, urine where it had no place being (I hope) and several makeup brushes that had met a gruesome demise (I’ll spare the finer details on this one).
One thing led to another but the guilty party ended up throwing her toys out the pram and decided to fly home a day early, labelling her fellow hen party revellers as ‘arseholes’ and ‘immature little bitches.’ She was also blacklisted by the group having vocally called into question as to why the ladies felt the need to have two breakfasts each every morning.
Unfortunately she had to return soon after leaving for the airport in a haze of betrayal because she forgot she didn’t have a flight to catch and as I like to picture it “HAD NO PLACE ELSE TO GOOOOOO” to quote a memorable scene from Wayne’s World. I’m not 100 percent on what happened after that but I don’t think she will be making an appearance at the hens wedding. Holidays ruin freindships people, this is why you should consider getting comfortable with your own company.
The Drunk Hotel Guest
I’ll keep this one super quick as it’s worth mentioning. Drunk man shouting at reception in front of guests waiting to check in. Drunk man also has been confirmed to have COVID and is being told to go back to his room and stay there. The funny part is one minute he’s barely standing up saying, “Sorry, so sorry……I love you, you’re beautiful” to the resigned, toad looking old lady behind reception and the next, when she told him to do one he aggressively suggested she go fuck herself in the next breathe. The police were then called. As they waited for the cops to show up Drunk man told the bag boy that he was a piece of shit which I thought was particularly harsh. At this precise moment I think bag boy couldn’t give the slightest shit if he ever carried another bag again. Bag boys need love too. Happily a few hours later I clocked bag boy fulfilling his role with a smile with some new arrivals so all was well.
Drunk man ended up falling asleep in the chair in the hotel lobby having been denied his freedom to roam the all inclusive bar area. Rumour has it he’s still there.
Hungry Bum Girl
After we accepted our fate with the delayed flight home we headed to departures and had nowhere to sit but the hard, cold floor. Fuming, I decided to people watch to pass time and that’s when the girl with the hungriest bum I’ve ever seen walked past. It was as impressive as it was disgusting. She was thickly set on top, 6 feet tall, maybe 18 stone and from the hips down looked like a perfect reverse triangle. Her underwear was so far up her arse it was almost a bandana. As Jimmy Carr would put it, it was like a bulldog chewing a wasp. Having walked past me several times it made me think about how seemingly oblivious some are to not only their overall self presentation to the world but also how hungry their bums are in a public setting. I also admired the fact that she didn’t give a fuck and just wanted to get back to Liverpool as soon as possible. I salute you, and I hope your were able to remove that underwear without needing surgery.
Verbal Diarrhoea Girl
The final mini story. It blows my small mind how some people can just say out loud everything they’re thinking but that’s exactly what we got when lining up for security clearance. There’s always one person to ruin your day wherever you go but it particularly screws it when you’re tired, miserable and sad about going home. Let’s call this girl Tina. So Tina was behind us in the line and thought we wanted to hear everything that came out of her gob. She moaned about the queue time, her hunger pains, her period pains, her dislike of Dawn French, the way Britney Spears dances on her Instagram, the check in guys barnet, the time Sharon Stone showed off her Fanny in Basic Instinct. You name it, she had an opinion. Her husband also seemed to be struggling for a brain cell when he spoke with the wisest fact offering he gave being “that sign is green ennit” when looking at the boarding screen. To his credit he seemed to soak up Tina’s ramblings very well whilst keeping calm and composed but he definitely looked like he has Ketamine for breakfast.
Word to the wise, we don’t have to say everything we think people. We can just shut the fuck up. It’s like, free to do that.
SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.