Day 1 - Scalped
As soon as the wheels touched down on the tarmac the Bold Yin got us off to a flying start by almost starting a fight on the plane then got lost in the airport and nearly missed the bus to the hotel. On the bus Aitken was getting "scalped" like you wouldn't believe, to the point where he didn't even want to open his mouth! It was harsh, but also fair enough as his choice of clothing sometimes borders on the ridiculous. Anyway we went and had a pint in The Shittest Bar in Benidorm (not a figure of speech, it is actually called that). It lived up to it's name although Hamill thought it was amazing since it was only a Euro a pint, not realising all the bars over there are like that. Grant grew a moustache to go out at night and attraction a lot of unwanted attention from fans of the chuckle brothers, he was constantly being pestered for photos and autographs. It became such a pain in the arse that he went back to the hotel and shaved it off. The Bold Yin bought a megaphone from an old chinese woman and went around Benidorm annoying people until someone took the batteries out and threw them away.
Day 2 - Junkies Always Film Things
Today we met Gary, a mental, middle aged, alcoholic, drug addled Bristolian who spoke the biggest amount of shite you have ever heard (imagine Ian Holloway on crack). He was genuinely shocked to see Jim order two belly buster breakfasts that he started to film it and said he was going to put it on Youtube, he then started showing us a film he made of him walking around his hotel room and pointing to things going "there's the toilet" etc. He was fucking mental! We were all a bit surprised by this but Mick told us that junkies always film things, apparently it's a well known fact. This Gary character told us all about his plan to grow weed out the back of his hotel and take it back home to sell to "chavs" in Bristol. He walked with a limp because he had fallen off a 12 story building but only suffered a sprained ankle. A few of us went for a few daytime pints and after a while Mick ended up wrecked and bought another megaphone, an "I Love Benidorm" T-Shirt and a walking stick. Saw a lot of old men who looked suspiciously like Josef Fritzl. Got told to fuck off from loads of pubs for being annoying and some English woman nicked the batteries from the megaphone and threw it in the pool.
Day 3 - You Fucking Scally Bastard!
Bought a bottle of brandy which was so rotten I wasn't even to drink half of it before we went home. Someone in the scouse bar called Mick a "little scally bastard" which became his catchphrase for the rest of the holiday. Tried to decide what bar to go to that night but David Aitken didn't want to go in any pubs with people in them because he hates everyone and just wants to sit in empty pubs himself. Ended up being dragged into an Australian bar by some PR woman who must have been very shit at her job because there was no one in it and the pub across the road was absolutely heaving. Aitken sang an excellent version of "Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Savage Garden on the karaoke which had everyone in tears and Hamill spoke to every random person he came across and bored the arse of them by having really shit conversations. Mick went to sleep in Hamills bed and wouldn't move so Hamill threw him down onto the marble floor where he slept for the rest of the night. Hamill went to sleep and started snoring in a ridiculous way which sounded like a horse being strangled.
Day 4 - That Bin Is Giving Me The Fucking Boak Man
By this point the "Tartan Army" had arrived since Scotland would be playing Spain in Alicante a few days later. Every single one of them walked around all day every day wearing a kilt, timberland boots and a Scotland top from about 15 years ago and sang the same song all day every day. Complete wankers it has to be said. Watched the England game in a Scottish bar with loads of these dafties and watched one of these guys being knocked back from a strip club for being pure wrecked and he would then go round the corner and come back and try and get in. He honestly did this about 10 times. Ended up in an Irish bar called Scruffy Murphys where we all did the Riverdance and took turns of playing the fiddle. Mick was trying to talk in a Scouse accent but it kept coming out Geordie and by the end of the night was rolling around on the pavement after eating a burger from a bin and shouting at these two women from Newcastle (who were totally horrified) that the bin was "giving him the fucking boak man" in Geordie.
Day 5 - Greasy and Sleazy
The Bold Yin hadn't been in a shower for four days by now and was trying to claim that "you don't need to shower when you're in Benidorm". A right greasy and sleazy scally bastard. Watched the Scotland game in a Rangers bar and they won 1-0 then went into a Spanish cafe and tried the Spanish equivalent of Strongbow, which was actually very nice indeed. Went into the Geordie bar to ask if they knew Gazza, Ant and Dec, Peter Beardsley or Anthony Hutton. They didn't know any of them and told us to fuck off. Saw a sectarian parrot in the Ulster bar and heard it shouting obsecities at passers byt hen went out and got totally sparkled and couldn't remember the next 4 or 5 hours. Sat on the balcony drinking till the sun came up while listening to Goldie Lookin' Chain and smoking all Hamills fags.
Day 6 - The Mystery Of The Missing Shorts
Stayed in bed dying most of the day then got up to try and find KFC to get a munch and couldn't find it so ended up going to "The Codfather" which is a very shady chip shop. David Aitken stole an old mans mobility scooter after knocking him off it with a big tree branch that he found and went down the beach for "a spot of sunbathing". He came back with no shorts on and a black eye but wouldn't tell us what happened. Hamill told that he thought he was dying of HIV (seriously) and Jim spent the next 20 minutes laughing at this. The Bold Yin didn't get out of bed or speak to anyone all day which is very unusual behaviour from him. Went to the Benidorm version of Harwoods and had to listen to loads of old women telling me they like my "Justin Beiber haircut".
Day 7 - A Postman Appears
David Hamill and his mate turned up to meet us about 7 hours later than planned because they got off the bus at the wrong place and had to walk about 17 miles with their suitcases. Hamill sold his brother a couple of fake tickets to get into the Scotland game and Mick got out his bed to go mental one last time. Hamill bought Mick a thong from a machine and he wore it all night while wearing a dick mask which David Hamill bought and posed for pictures with pensioners. Aitken bought a load of "I Love Benidorm" shirts as presents for his family, he said that if he buys shit things then they'll tell him just to stop buying things for them. We finally found KFC and went to see a Westlife tribute act. The next day we got the bus to the airport and saw Anders Brevick in Burger King. Then we went home.
Monday, 24 October 2011
Tuesday, 14 December 2010
Holiday Report
Day One : Brand New Pair of Rollerskates
Day one. Arrived in "the dorm". A bus took us from the plane to the airport even though it was only 10 yards away. Spoke to some Diego's and tried to decide whether to get a bus or a taxi. In the end we decided to get a taxter. We dropped the gear off in the room and went for "a donner" down the beach. Found a British daytime karaoke bar selling pints for one Euro and playing all the top holiday hits like Boney M, the birdie song etc. What more can you ask for? Got dragged on a "sectarian binge" by the Dick to loads of Rangers bars then got enticed into a "magic show" by a sceming scouser then had to watch "Pete Loaf" sing and sweat profusely for a few hours. Went to a few more shady pubs and met a Russian drug dealer. We all went and bought skates and charged along the beach front singing the rollerskate song from that TV advert.
Day Two : Shut it Diego (I'm a better Geordie than you)
Woke up pure dying to find a bunch of Diego's drilling the fucking pavement outside the hotel. There was no need for that. Went out to watch the game and had a swatch of all the belting pubs. There was every type of pub imaginable, Rangers bars, Irish bars, Welsh bars, Geordie bars, Scouse bars, saloons and shady disco's.Went to a Geordie bar and were bitterly disappointed with the lack of patter. X factor was on the TV at the time though so they were all too busy being proud of Cheryl Cole. We were later to find out that it was " not a real Geordie bar" but was in fact run by "some fucking poof from Blackburn or somewhere who moved away from Newcastle years ago by a short,back and sided woman drinking pints of John Smith and moaning about football players on the TV wearing gloves. Basically she was trying to make the point that she was a better Geordie than them. It would have been hard to disagree.
Day Three : Schindlers Lift
Haloween was today, they had bowls of monkey nuts in all the pubs and we discussed at length whether this was because it was Haloween or if this was just what they did in Benidorm. We went in a pub shaped like a boat and watched a lesbian who was obviously styling herself on Cristiano Ronaldo sing a selection of crap songs and make cringeworthy comments to groups of incontinent pensioners. Saw a cheeky, racist comedian whose routine involved solely bamming up the audience. He was everything a good comedian should be, picking on people in wheelchairs etc. The type of comedy which wouldn't be allowed in this country because it's considered "offensive". Went to the Jew bar for Halloween dressed as Hitler. Saw a Girls Aloud tribute band, it was weird because none of them looked like anyone from Girls Aloud and none of them could sing. Saw an Indian takeaway called "Punjabi Kebabi". When we got back to the hotel there was a mob of angry Jews in skull caps baying for blood in the form of a pound of flesh. From the balcony Dick gave them "the sign" to come ahead. At this point Turpie ran out and switched the power off on the lift, trapping the Jews inside, proving the Schleiffen plan a success.
Day Four : Maybe It's Because I'm a Londoner
Went for a walk round the shops on the morning and noticed a large selection of David Aitkenesque T shirts for sale. A jaw dropping sight if ever there was one. Went to the Scouse bar we had been in the day before but it was closed as a mark of respect to John Lennon who was apparently shot on a Monday and also Brookside because the last ever episode was broadcast on a Monday aswell. We were told by a shifty looking geezer in a yellow Fila tracksuit that every Monday is known as "Black Monday" in Liverpool. It's the day they close all the shops and bars and stay in their (council) houses taking ecto's and coke to lift their mood. There is even an unwritten rule that you don't rob anyones car or house on a Monday as it's considered "out of order". Saw a bunch of old English guys walking in a straight line along the street singing "maybe it's because I'm a Londoner", wankers by any standards.
Day Five : I Dont Wear T Shirts, T Shirts Are Rotten
Match day. Got the bus to Valencia with a bunch of nutters singing Rangers songs in the style of Elvis Presley. Went for a trek to get ticketo's and some crap Spanish "food". Saw a drunken, topless Rangers fan in a pair of white trackies covered in blood sleeping in the street outside a stylish, cosmopolitan cafe. When he awoke and someone asked where his T Shirt was he awoke and replied that he didn't wear t shirts because they are rotten. Fair enough. Saw the team bus coming past us on the way in to the ground. Got a thums up from Ally McCoist, Laffery gave us a wee wink, Bougherra looked slightly puzzled, Davie Weir didn't notice us as he was engrossed in a game of travel chess with Walter. Watched Rangers get beat 3-0. Panicked when we couldn't find the bus after, found the bus and went back to the Dorm.
Day Six : It's Nice To Be Nice, It's Good To Be Good
There is a black guy who works in the toilets of one of the clubs here who uses the catchphrase "it's nice to be nice, it's good to be good". He is one of those people whose job is to force you to wear cheap aftershave, "tip" him for the privelage and generally annoy everyone by calling them his "brother from the second mother". Top class patter but what he really means is please give me all the money in your pocket. I raked around in the pocket of my jeans for change but only had a 50 Euro note, he grabbed it and tried to take it off me saying he'd give me change. Aye right mate, I've heard that one before. God loves a trier though I'll give him that. Anyway, at this point I noticed a stream of what I assumed to be piss out the corner of my eye and stepped away. As we grappled for the 50 Euro's he slipped in it and smashed his head on the tiles, knocking him out. I took my money back and helped myself to a selection of aftershaves, lollipops and all the money in his bucket, stuffed them up my jumper and headed downtown where I dished them out to revellers.
Day Seven : If I Knew You Were Coming I'd Have Baked A Cake
Went for a walk around the shops and bought a neon "bar" sign for 12 Euro's. Absolute bargain. Tried to introduce Turpie to cider but he declared it was "not his thing". Got far too drunk in a Wild Western bar. Dick tried to grow a moustache but it was a poor attempt it has to be said. Tried to organise a "Cheese and Wine" party in the hotel lobby. Made up some "posters" with crayons and coloured pencils. A few people showed up, mainly posh English folk in sailing jackets and golfing gear. They turned their noses up at the Buckfast and Mini Cheddars on offer so the guy from the hotel baked them a "posh cunt cake". Dick beat the English guy at poker and won his yacht off him then we went out sailing to some shithole in Africa and swapped them a bottle of Bucky for 3 ounces and a voodoo face mask.
Day Eight : Terrorist Lynx
Had to get out early to get to the airport and forgot to lift some things from the room. Had to go in a shop in the airport to get some deodorant but when we went through security the guy stopped me and pulled it out the bag and started shouting in Spanish to a guy at the far end of the airport. They both stood there looking at in in awe as if they had never seen anything like it before. The first guy then figured out how to spray it and started laughing hysterically then threw it across the airport terminal before switching back to deadly serious mode and told us in no uncertain terms to "get on the fucking plane you terrorist bastards". We got on the plane and went home.
Day one. Arrived in "the dorm". A bus took us from the plane to the airport even though it was only 10 yards away. Spoke to some Diego's and tried to decide whether to get a bus or a taxi. In the end we decided to get a taxter. We dropped the gear off in the room and went for "a donner" down the beach. Found a British daytime karaoke bar selling pints for one Euro and playing all the top holiday hits like Boney M, the birdie song etc. What more can you ask for? Got dragged on a "sectarian binge" by the Dick to loads of Rangers bars then got enticed into a "magic show" by a sceming scouser then had to watch "Pete Loaf" sing and sweat profusely for a few hours. Went to a few more shady pubs and met a Russian drug dealer. We all went and bought skates and charged along the beach front singing the rollerskate song from that TV advert.
Day Two : Shut it Diego (I'm a better Geordie than you)
Woke up pure dying to find a bunch of Diego's drilling the fucking pavement outside the hotel. There was no need for that. Went out to watch the game and had a swatch of all the belting pubs. There was every type of pub imaginable, Rangers bars, Irish bars, Welsh bars, Geordie bars, Scouse bars, saloons and shady disco's.Went to a Geordie bar and were bitterly disappointed with the lack of patter. X factor was on the TV at the time though so they were all too busy being proud of Cheryl Cole. We were later to find out that it was " not a real Geordie bar" but was in fact run by "some fucking poof from Blackburn or somewhere who moved away from Newcastle years ago by a short,back and sided woman drinking pints of John Smith and moaning about football players on the TV wearing gloves. Basically she was trying to make the point that she was a better Geordie than them. It would have been hard to disagree.
Day Three : Schindlers Lift
Haloween was today, they had bowls of monkey nuts in all the pubs and we discussed at length whether this was because it was Haloween or if this was just what they did in Benidorm. We went in a pub shaped like a boat and watched a lesbian who was obviously styling herself on Cristiano Ronaldo sing a selection of crap songs and make cringeworthy comments to groups of incontinent pensioners. Saw a cheeky, racist comedian whose routine involved solely bamming up the audience. He was everything a good comedian should be, picking on people in wheelchairs etc. The type of comedy which wouldn't be allowed in this country because it's considered "offensive". Went to the Jew bar for Halloween dressed as Hitler. Saw a Girls Aloud tribute band, it was weird because none of them looked like anyone from Girls Aloud and none of them could sing. Saw an Indian takeaway called "Punjabi Kebabi". When we got back to the hotel there was a mob of angry Jews in skull caps baying for blood in the form of a pound of flesh. From the balcony Dick gave them "the sign" to come ahead. At this point Turpie ran out and switched the power off on the lift, trapping the Jews inside, proving the Schleiffen plan a success.
Day Four : Maybe It's Because I'm a Londoner
Went for a walk round the shops on the morning and noticed a large selection of David Aitkenesque T shirts for sale. A jaw dropping sight if ever there was one. Went to the Scouse bar we had been in the day before but it was closed as a mark of respect to John Lennon who was apparently shot on a Monday and also Brookside because the last ever episode was broadcast on a Monday aswell. We were told by a shifty looking geezer in a yellow Fila tracksuit that every Monday is known as "Black Monday" in Liverpool. It's the day they close all the shops and bars and stay in their (council) houses taking ecto's and coke to lift their mood. There is even an unwritten rule that you don't rob anyones car or house on a Monday as it's considered "out of order". Saw a bunch of old English guys walking in a straight line along the street singing "maybe it's because I'm a Londoner", wankers by any standards.
Day Five : I Dont Wear T Shirts, T Shirts Are Rotten
Match day. Got the bus to Valencia with a bunch of nutters singing Rangers songs in the style of Elvis Presley. Went for a trek to get ticketo's and some crap Spanish "food". Saw a drunken, topless Rangers fan in a pair of white trackies covered in blood sleeping in the street outside a stylish, cosmopolitan cafe. When he awoke and someone asked where his T Shirt was he awoke and replied that he didn't wear t shirts because they are rotten. Fair enough. Saw the team bus coming past us on the way in to the ground. Got a thums up from Ally McCoist, Laffery gave us a wee wink, Bougherra looked slightly puzzled, Davie Weir didn't notice us as he was engrossed in a game of travel chess with Walter. Watched Rangers get beat 3-0. Panicked when we couldn't find the bus after, found the bus and went back to the Dorm.
Day Six : It's Nice To Be Nice, It's Good To Be Good
There is a black guy who works in the toilets of one of the clubs here who uses the catchphrase "it's nice to be nice, it's good to be good". He is one of those people whose job is to force you to wear cheap aftershave, "tip" him for the privelage and generally annoy everyone by calling them his "brother from the second mother". Top class patter but what he really means is please give me all the money in your pocket. I raked around in the pocket of my jeans for change but only had a 50 Euro note, he grabbed it and tried to take it off me saying he'd give me change. Aye right mate, I've heard that one before. God loves a trier though I'll give him that. Anyway, at this point I noticed a stream of what I assumed to be piss out the corner of my eye and stepped away. As we grappled for the 50 Euro's he slipped in it and smashed his head on the tiles, knocking him out. I took my money back and helped myself to a selection of aftershaves, lollipops and all the money in his bucket, stuffed them up my jumper and headed downtown where I dished them out to revellers.
Day Seven : If I Knew You Were Coming I'd Have Baked A Cake
Went for a walk around the shops and bought a neon "bar" sign for 12 Euro's. Absolute bargain. Tried to introduce Turpie to cider but he declared it was "not his thing". Got far too drunk in a Wild Western bar. Dick tried to grow a moustache but it was a poor attempt it has to be said. Tried to organise a "Cheese and Wine" party in the hotel lobby. Made up some "posters" with crayons and coloured pencils. A few people showed up, mainly posh English folk in sailing jackets and golfing gear. They turned their noses up at the Buckfast and Mini Cheddars on offer so the guy from the hotel baked them a "posh cunt cake". Dick beat the English guy at poker and won his yacht off him then we went out sailing to some shithole in Africa and swapped them a bottle of Bucky for 3 ounces and a voodoo face mask.
Day Eight : Terrorist Lynx
Had to get out early to get to the airport and forgot to lift some things from the room. Had to go in a shop in the airport to get some deodorant but when we went through security the guy stopped me and pulled it out the bag and started shouting in Spanish to a guy at the far end of the airport. They both stood there looking at in in awe as if they had never seen anything like it before. The first guy then figured out how to spray it and started laughing hysterically then threw it across the airport terminal before switching back to deadly serious mode and told us in no uncertain terms to "get on the fucking plane you terrorist bastards". We got on the plane and went home.
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