Myself and the wife have just returned from sunny Spain, this very morning. I'm not going to bore you with tales of dim-witted tourists asking "why there's so many fucking Spaniards here" and "I'm not eating that foreign muck", but I just had to put something on here about the hotel.
We turned up on Thursday evening, and after being dropped off by the butch Spanish bus driver we checked in. Several OAPs walked slowly past, but it was 3 in the afternoon, so all of the scantily clad birds would still be sleeping off last night's excesses. How wrong one man could be.
When we re-emerged for tea, we discovered, much to our horror, that almost everyone in the hotel was over 60. This was bad. It was like an old people's home - mindless zombies moving aimlessly and slowly round the building. All it needed was plastic sheets and zimmerframe hire, and we were there.
As a result, all of the pubs were dead beyond 7pm. There were no battles to commandeer the sunbeds. In fact, almost nothing of note happened at all. It was by far and away the most relaxing holday I've ever been on.
Coming soon: Cow balls, more old people, songs of praise in spanish and swimming nuns!