Holidays are the best, aren't they? It's all sun, sand and blue skies - just don't think about the inferior bus services and don't even mention the bloody wifi.
1. ‘Bloody table service’
There’s undeniably a lot wrong with British drinking culture, but when it comes to the actual act of ordering booze, we’re world class. In the States you’re expected to leave half your change on the bar and in most of Europe there’s the added, dreadful faff of table service, wherein you’re forced to sit around awkwardly until staff translate your anxious stares and furious arm-flapping into a demand for delicious, cooling booze. In a Wetherspoons you’d be pissed by now.
2. ‘Bloody tourists’
Appreciating the Seven Wonders of the World isn’t so easy when you’re surrounded by Birkenstock-ed Germans intent on photobombing you into next summer. So by day three you set off in search of a 'real' experience, which invariably finds you in a seriously shady part of town, fending off the local crackheads with a selfie stick. Cheers, Klaus.
3. 'Bloody buses'
God, it's a drag, isn't it - living in a city with such an unfathomably sophisticated public transport system, capable of delivering you from one side of a heaving, overpopulated metropolis to the other in a matter of minutes? Can you believe the escalator wasn’t working at Camden Town the other day? Bloody disgrace, isn’t it? Not to worry - the only bus into town from your cute little Airbnb on the Costa Del Bellend only runs once a fortnight and takes an hour to do a journey you could walk in 15 minutes. Not so sick of the Northern line now, are you, chum?
4. 'Bloody sunshine'
Sweating through your clothes three times a day wouldn’t be so bad if you’d thought to pack (or indeed own) more than seven pairs of pants for a weeklong holiday. The locals sensibly do nothing while the sun’s at its hottest, but instead of sitting about in your pants like you’d do back home, you insist on pointlessly 'exploring' a town where’s there’s nothing to do because everyone else has said whatever the Spanish is for 'fuck this' and gone for a nap.
5. ‘Bloody wifi’
Following that awful incident a few summers back when you accidentally streamed Cliff Richard’s entire discography at a cost of £4,200, your data roaming switch now lives in the 'off' position. But what about the newsletters? The special-offers emails and the birthday notifications? How can you live without all that useless guff? You can’t, so you ruin the whole holiday pinballing between dodgy cafes in a desperate, pointless quest for good wifi, screaming 'my kingdom for London's unparalleled 4G network!'
By David Clack, who really needs a holiday.
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