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Middle-class families on condescending British holidays

MIDDLE-class families who spent two weeks abroad in summer have deigned to visit British holiday resorts this half-term.

Locations including Devon, Tenby, Whitby and the Isle of Skye will be the recipients of the families’ largesse, especially the owners of fish restaurants and delicatessens who enjoy loud conversations about schooling.

Julian Cook of Reading said: “Well, it’s only October half-term, isn’t it? Weymouth will have to do.

“We’ll put on a brave face despite the weather, joking about how it wasn’t like this in the Dutch Antilles, poking around your little shop and remarking how similar it is to the one Jessica bought and turned into flats.

“One wouldn’t come somewhere like here in summer, or even Easter. Too dismal. But it sort of suits that late October mood.”

Ellie Shaw, who is touring the Highlands with her three red-haired children in waxed jackets, said: “We saw a seal yesterday. So that’s something, isn’t it?

“There’s just not enough to justify more than an autumn week. Though it would be lovely to own a place up here, then we’d visit every half-term in a slightly less begrudging way.”

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Six fruit juices and a thimble of value gin: the cocktails offered by your local shit bar

THEY think they’re a cut above an ordinary boozer but the drinks on offer suggest otherwise. Here are the abysmal concoctions your local bar dares to call cocktails.

Six Fruit Juices and a Thimble of Value Gin

If you’ve ever eaten an entire packet of Skittles in one mouthful, you’ll know what this drink tastes like. They’ll call it something like ‘the Eliminator’ and promise it’ll get you smashed, but the only thing it eliminates is your body’s insulin levels. Get ready for a sugar crash that will be almost as bad as a hangover.

The Slightly Problematic Tropical One

Mix rum, pineapple juice and Malibu, shake, and pour into a Tiki glass with an umbrella. Technically, it’s neither a Piña Colada, nor a Zombie, so they’ll call it something vague and exotic like ‘Caribbean Smash’. If they’re feeling particularly edgy they might even call it ‘the Kolonial’, but only until someone writes a letter of complaint to the local newspaper.

The Shit Martini

You hear Martini, you think sophistication. Soon you’ll feel like Bond. Perhaps you can woo a suitor by seductively sucking on an olive. Oh wait. No. It’s either an Espresso Martini comprised of Smirnoff and some refrigerated Nescafé, or, worse, it comes on tap. Le Chiffre would have laughed you out of the Casino Royale.

The Blue Drink

Sickly sweet, mysterious, and possibly unfit for human consumption, nobody knows what the Blue Drink contains. Maybe an off-brand energy drink, hopefully some Blue Curaçao, possibly a liberal dash of anti-freeze; who knows? The Blue Drink tastes of everything and nothing. One sip would kill a medieval peasant.

The Improvised Long Island Iced Tea

Even at the Ritz, a Long Island Iced Tea is just a shitload of booze and some Coke. But your local bar doesn’t have Cointreau and their tequila reserves were raided by a Mexican-themed hen party, so they’re substituting triple sec with Absolut and tequila with Grey Goose. Now you’re left with a vodka and Coke that’s four parts vodka, one part Coke.

The Mocktail

It’s just six different fruit juices and an umbrella. And it costs £13.

The Sexy Cheeky One

Following in the footsteps of Sex on the Beach and the Porn Star Martini, your local bar is getting frisky with their own invention: the Dirty Little Harlot. It’s vulgar, it’s sexist, it’s basically just vodka and cranberry juice, and it will lead to the local student population protesting outside until it’s hastily retired.

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