Holiday Time

It's that time of year where thoughts turn to holidays. Summer is, undoubtedly, on its way as all the signs are there; ten minutes of sunshine and suddenly the loonies are wearing shorts (usually with socks!), the p-rats in the secondhand BMW convertibles have got the tops down and we all get the extreme joy of 4000 decibels of bass thumping out. The ice-cream van waits hopefully at the park entrance, hoping to serve exorbitantly-priced ice creams (along with 2cms of flake for an extra 40 pence) to long-suffering parents of screaming children and you spend 4 hours trying to find a parking space anywhere that's worth visiting.

I was watching the holiday channels on Sky the other day, hoping to tempt Mrs B into some globetrotting and it suddenly struck me that holiday descriptions are, shall we say, somewhat open to interpretation. Here then is the Bertie Guide to Holiday Speak:

'No frills airline' - Inside seat is an optional extra.

In-Flight entertainment - Naomi Campbell is on board

In-flight meal included - Oh deep joy, Pot Noodles at 35,000 feet

Fast check-in - More time in departures where you can spend lots of money on items that you don't want at a marginally cheaper price than in the High St. And why does every Departure Lounge have vast displays of Toblerone? .......oh, goody, I'm going away for 2 weeks and forgot the Toblerone - thank you British Airports Authority, you've saved my holiday from ruin!!!

Transfers included - You spend 3 hours wandering around some foreign airport looking for a tit holding an umbrella with 'Crappo Holidays' emblazoned thereon. When you find them, they're hung over because it's the middle of the night (due to the delayed flight) and they've come straight from a toga party at the Las Pisso nightclub where they spend their time forcing groups of spotty youths to drink far too much sangria in a bid to make them feel they are enjoying themselves. You're then herded into an antique coach with no air-conditioning (apart from the broken window) where Pepé, the driver, patiently waits until that blissful moment where he can have fun throwing your cases around before grinning inanely in the vain hope that someone will give him a tip and he can go and buy some deodorant.

Lively resort - Kids everywhere during the day and previously mentioned spotty youths staggering around at night, lusting after the equally pissed groups of females, all wearing clothes several sizes too small and that beautifully bright shade of red where they have slept off their hangovers on the beach all day and gently boiled.

Interesting local Church - Desperate! No bars, no restaurants and even the donkey has died.

Hotel offers traditional food - paella, chips and some strange stew that the several hundred Germans seem to adore.

Gala Dinner included - Paella with parsley garnish

Free wine - Keep away from the wine!

Child-friendly - An oxymoron. Some poor sod dressed up in an indeterminate creature costume whose sole job it is to keep the brats amused whilst the reps try and sell crappy trips to the local stuffed donkey factory outlet shop.

Feel at home - English pubs full of fat gits drinking lager and wearing football shirts.

Friendly locals - Be stopped every 5 minutes by sleazy conmen trying to flog timeshares.

Quiet location - Full of wrinklies.

Bustling - Packed so solidly, breathing in sequence is obligatory.

Large pool - Pee without anyone noticing.

Close to beach - Only 3 bus rides away and then you take your life in your hands crossing the 6 lane highway running alongside.

Budget apartment - Half-built, with a picturesque view of the communal septic tank, cold & cold running water (generally down the walls), mini-bar (supporting the ceiling), half-tiled bathroom (literally!), alarm call facility (the builders begin at 5am) and close to local amenities i.e. the abattoir, airport flight path and Wee Jock McScunner's Genuine Scottish Bar & Karaoke.

All-inclusive - Why waste all that money going abroad, looking at the sights, when you can spend 14 days not moving more than 20 metres from your room?

Never to be forgotten - Your wallet gets stolen, you spend 4 days sitting on the loo (which doesn't flush properly) due to over-indulgence at the Gala Dinner. A Roy Cropper clone latches onto you and adopts you as their new best friend and entices you to go to the Flamenco party where some corpulent Spanish bird called Consuela drags you out and makes you dance with her - you've drunk the free wine and are too rat-arsed to care until you see the photos in the morning. Worst of all, you find the heat has melted the vast amount of Toblerone you bought at the airport and ruined your souvenir stuffed donkey (complete with sombrero).

Happy holidays!!!