DO you think it’s fine to be a dick so long as you get your precious week in Malaga? Here mum-of-two Donna Sheridan explains how to behave like a f**king animal at the airport and beyond.
Before setting off
If your kids aren’t on holiday yet, kick up a fuss about taking them out of school in term time, citing your ‘human rights’. You’ll quickly lose interest but it will cement your reputation as a pain-in-the-rectum parent who the teachers probably make voodoo dolls of.
Airports are full of bars, which means you have no option but to get positively fizzing with booze. If people who’ve been waiting for 10 hours won’t get into the party spirit, they’re just stuck-up shits, like every single teacher your son Jaydan has come into contact with.
The queue obviously does not apply to you
Airports are struggling to get enough staff. Don’t blame the economy, drag your brood to the front of the queue and rant at a lowly employee, achieving precisely nothing. As you trek back to your original place in the queue, act like it’s a major victory, eg. ‘Well that bloody told them!’ although it clearly didn’t.
Abandon items of luggage
Rushing to finally catch your flight? If a bag is just full of cheap beachwear, sling it. The worst that can happen is you’ll have to buy some new t-shirts, and the subsequent bomb scare will only ruin other people’s holidays. Sod them. You had to get up at 5am.
Onboard the plane
A modern jet airliner is a veritable playground of drunken entertainment. Try one or all of these:
● Many airlines still require masks. Refuse to wear one, starting a blazing row and only backing down after causing a massive delay. As a moron and anti-masker you know it’s just snooty scientists making stuff up for government grants, or something.
● It’s practically mandatory to get into a fight at 35,000 feet these days. Whether male or female, get the fists flying for reasons you cannot remember.
● Try to open a door in flight. Later claim you were having a panic attack, when in reality you were blackout drunk from the bottle of vodka in your bag and just had no idea what you were doing.
While on holiday
Stick to the beach and hotel bar. If Malaga isn’t exactly like Rotherham, it’s a f**king disgrace. Complain like a five-year-old that the Spanish omelette ‘LITERALLY made me want to PUKE’.
This is your last chance to be anti-social, so make it count. Get even more pissed than on the way out so the cabin crew have to restrain you. Your fellow passengers will be subjected to a tedious emergency detour to Orly Airport, and you’ll waste lots of taxpayers’ money as the British embassy tries to stop the French charging you with terrorism. If only you’d just played Candy Crush Soda Saga.