IT’S that time of year when Britons go on a cheap package holiday, have a miserable time and moan about it to the Sun. Here’s what foreigners are forcing them to complain about.
‘The beer was piss’
It’s outrageous that a place you chose to go to because you can get paralytically drunk for £1 a pint would compromise on quality. If you’re in a bar you should demand a tour of the kitchen in case their burgers and chips aren’t being prepared by Marco Pierre White.
‘We couldn’t get chips’
There’s not usually a lack of chips in the hellhole Spanish resorts Britons are forced to complain about, but it does happen and is particularly cruel to Brits. Sadly when the Geneva Conventions were established in 1949, they did not put being unable to eat a massive mound of dried-out deep-fried potatoes on a par with shooting prisoners of war.
‘I fell off a scooter’
Sorry, but if you drink 12 pints and then ride an unfamiliar vehicle, you’ve got no one to blame but the Spanish nation. Every 15-year-old Vespa available to rent in Torremolinos should have an advanced gyroscopic balance system installed by Boston Dynamics with a brain interface that automatically compensates for your slowed reactions. Is that too much to ask?
‘There was a [insert minor natural hazard] next to the hotel’
Slopes, gulleys, cliffs – you’d think foreigners could sort out a few geological formations, or do they not want want our tourist pounds? In holiday destinations all of nature should be made completely level and paved over like Wolverhampton Pedestrian Zone. Cliffs should have a pedestrian crossing permanently showing the red man so you don’t step off into thin air, as any normal person would.
‘The bastards took my towel off the sun lounger’
A hotel lounger used to be yours if you used the cunning trick of putting a towel on it long before you planned to sunbathe, even the night before. Now there are rules against this and staff are ordered to patrol and remove towels if no one has sat on a lounger for a certain amount of time. Christ. If you’d wanted your holiday to be a tense game of psychological cat-and-mouse you’d have gone to Portmeirion and got your wife to spike you with drugs while shouting: ‘WHY DID YOU RESIGN, NUMBER SIX?’
‘Too much [insert popular local food]’
Recently a British holidaymaker complained that the only meals she could find in Portugal were seafood with rice. Cynics might claim that nowhere in the modern world is it impossible to locate common accompaniments such as potatoes, flatbreads, pasta or other vegetables. But are they seriously suggesting this poor woman should have left the hotel and explored the local area? Who wants a holiday that isn’t like being under house arrest?
‘They saw through my obvious scam’
Half the enjoyment of going on holiday is pretending you got food poisoning and getting a refund and/or compensation. But somehow the hotel manager won’t believe you had diarrhoea like a brown Mount Vesuvius because none of the other 350 guests were affected. The lack of trust is appalling, and you won’t be going there again. Not least because they’ve got a lawyer involved and your harmless fiddle has unexpectedly escalated into a warrant for your arrest for fraud.
