PLANNING a city break but unsure which exciting European destination to choose? They’ll all be shit. Norman Steele offers an impartial guide:
Paris
City of light? City of dog shite, more like. Crawling with snooty French who can speak English perfectly well but refuse to. And their much-vaunted cuisine is basically garlic with everything. The Eiffel Tower’s nicked from Blackpool, and you’ll spend two days sat in f**king traffic at Dover because they selfishly won’t waive the Brexit paperwork.
Amsterdam
Knee-deep in druggies, tarts, and dickheads on bikes. Built on swamp so it’s full of canals you’re always on the wrong f**king side of, and their cheese has less flavour than ours. Expect to come back with a drug addiction from secondary inhalation and a nasty dose of the clap.
Barcelona
Claims to be one of the most beautiful cities in the world, which is how they distract you while nicking your wallet. Their cathedral wasn’t finished when I first visited in 1984 and won’t be when I die which tells you something about their work ethic. And they don’t even speak Spanish. It’s like Spain’s Cardiff.
Venice
Fine if getting a boat to cross the street is your idea of fun. Stinks in summer, too many churches, wildly overpriced, swarming with US tourists too fat for their shorts. Utterly pointless flying all that way when you could just order a Domino’s and eat it out of the box by the local canal.
Athens
Overcrowded capital of a country so bone idle they crashed their economy trying to get out of paying taxes. The so-called cradle of civilisation and you can’t even flush loo roll without flooding the bathroom with turds and piss. All their old shit’s fallen down, not like our castles, and the local tipple’s an aniseed-flavoured spirit that’s like Gaviscon for alcoholics.
Krakow
Why the actual f**k would you? Freezing bloody cold, they jail you for having a beer on the street, and it’s next on Putin’s hit list. Tourist attractions include the oh-so cheery Schindler’s Factory, and a salt mine where they actively encourage you to lick the bloody walls. There’s a Polski Sklep down the road. Fill your basket there and stay home.
