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This is a question Expensive Weekends

Chthonic says he's still reeling from a trip to a wedding that cost him nearly £600; while a friend of ours hazily presented his credit card to the bar staff in a shady club in the Baltic states. You know how that one ended.

(, Thu 13 May 2010, 13:03)
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Most expensive ever
Took my girlfriend for a luxury weekend break. I paid for flights, car hire and private apartment.

That wasn't the expensive bit.

My wife found out and has cost me half the house, all my savings and huge solicitor bills.
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 19:26, 4 replies)
I have a thing about German women...
...or more specifically, I have a thing about women who are demure and stern on the outside but racy on the inside. I was in a long distace relationship with a Berlin girl a couple of years ago, when one Sunday morning an episode of Allo Allo came on UK Gold. I can't rememebr the specific joke, but it involved the Gestapo woman having her Nazi uniform ripped off to reveal stockings, suspenders, basque, the works. Next thing I know I'm on a Lufthhansa flight to Berlin, £600 poorer with a return flight the following morning arriving just in-time for work, with plans to live like a poor hermit for the rest of the month. I guess I should have been a Grand Prix mogul, Tory politician, royal family member or something similar.
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 19:18, 1 reply)
List of mine
Booked flight to wrong destination £150

Got on Eurostar on the wrong day £50

Fell asleep and missed hooker knocking on door £200

Never bothered to get front tyres tracked £800

Joined Barings Brothers £800m
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 17:55, Reply)
I was still recovering financially from three months of unemployment, I had taken yet another bloody Subway job to tide me over. (Still tiding myself over in these jobs, I'll get there some day!)

Essentially, was goalkeeping for a friends 7-a-side team, we were playing against a bunch of rough gits called Louts Legends. There had been trouble with this team in the past, fights, swearing, rough play etc.

I went down to claim the ball, and an opponent I now always refer to as "that twat in a United shirt" still came in to kick the ball and kicked my hand. Pretty painful, I ended up spilling the ball and it went out for a throw in. I stayed on the ground, hoping the game could be stopped but they went for a quick throw in so I got off my arse and finished the game.

Took my gloves off at the end of the game, and my left hand little finger was pointing the wrong way, swollen and really painful. After a trip to the hospital, found out it was fractured.

Now, in any other job I would be able to keep working with that injury, but Subway insist you wear those crappy plastic gloves and since I had two fingers taped together I couldn't work.

Cost me £600 in lost wages (difference between my earnings and statuory sick pay) plus all the money I pissed away since my solution to spending 4 dull weeks off work was job hunting (unsuccesfully), browsing the internet and going out drinking as much as possible.

I can't understand dole lifers - it's too bloody boring!
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 17:09, 3 replies)
Took a rather pricey trip once where my pen wanted to visit a factory to be moulded into a siv...

That was an ex-pen-siv weekend...

I actually rather hate myself now!
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 17:01, 7 replies)
Brace yourself margery, this is a long one.
This will be a marathon, as was the journey the story is about.

A mate of mine lives down in South Shields, just outside Newcastle, as he goes to college there. Ever eager for an opportunity to get steaming drunk in new places, this affords us an opportunity to visit every so often and go out in places like newcastle and sunderland (and of course, Glitter Ball). I've been down a few times now, the first of which was for halloween in 2008, at which point I realised what an idiot I really can be when I put my mind to it.

I got a lift down with my pal who was traveling further south to his girlfriend's house, so the journey there was uneventful enough. The weekend was good, there was a house party which didn't cost much, so it looked like it was going to be a fairly cheap little trip for me. Then came the time to come home on the sunday.

Now, I don't really travel much. I have a sense of direction that could quite probably see me getting lost in my own house, and if I do need to go somewhere I've never been I rely on the Godsend that is satnav. So, really, travelling from away down there in the real world to back here in lanarkshire by train was a pretty big thing for me, especially as I was on my own. I felt like an explorer, blazing new trails into undiscovered lands.

We walked to the metro station in shields and the train was already there. "There's your train you better get on it now. See ya." shouted my mate over his shoulder as he disappeared down some steps. I had thought, what with him being a veteran at this sort of malarkey, he would at least have told me what stop I was getting off at or where to go once I got there, but no. Abandoned. The feeling of dread began to grow. It was quarter past four.

I knew I was heading to Newcastle central, so I sat nervously on the metro until we got there. I got out and made my way through the door, and found myself in a small room. No massive train station. Panic. I must have got off at the wrong station! Oh shit. Shit shit shit. I'm going to get raped, aren't I. Wait..... what's that door over there? Ah. I found myself in newcastle central. Now I know I need a ticket to Motherwell, so if I can just find that on the departure boards...... shit. No trains to motherwell. This is probably bad. There is, however, a replacement bus service which runs to motherwell, so I buy a ticket for that, costing about £50 odd pounds. I sit down and nervously munch a gregg's sausage roll, trying to look like someone you don't want to mug. But wait! I have had a brainwave! Why didn't I simply buy a ticket to Edinburgh, then get a train from there to motherwell? The trains go through there anyway! It would have been quicker than a bus!

So I make my way back to the boards and yes, there is a train in an hour to Edinburgh. So, being the genius that I am, I completely disregard the "Any route possible" on the ticket and BUY ANOTHER TICKET to edinburgh, costing, if I remember right, £47. As I walk to the platform, I notice someone following me. He asks if this is the platform for the train to leeds or somewhere, and I see in his face the same lost, confused fear as I have and realise I'm not the only first time traveller here. I showed him to the boards and wished him luck, and waited for my train.

Well, the train came. It wasn't the east-coast one though, nooooo, this one went to carlisle first, clear the other side of the country. And so commenced a four hour train journey. I got to Edinburgh around ten and wearily made my way to the boards.

No trains to Motherwell.

There was, however, a replacement bus service.


Well, I have no choice. I BUY ANOTHER TICKET (!!!!!) costing somewhere around £13 and ask a nice lady where I catch the bus. It arrived, and when I spoke to the driver he had a newcastle accent. Yes, it was the replacement bus I had bought the ticket for in the first place and then decided not to get on. Arse. Anyway, I got on, the journey was made marginally more pleasant by a group of drunk girls who cheerily sang all the way to motherwell, and we arrived there somewhere around half past 11.

I should have mentioned earlier, I don't live in motherwell, but around 20 miles from there, and the plan had been for my mate to pick me up and bring me home before he went out, as he would have been in motherwell at around 9. This was obviously out the window now, and he was now well and truly drunk so there was no point begging. My dad was going to be passing through motherwell when he finished work however, so I gave him a ring (several actually, he had no signal. I was well and truly panicking by the time he answered.) I finally got home at half past one in the morning.

Nine hours and over £100 for a journey of about 150 miles. I felt a complete moron when my friend pointed out I could have used the ticket I originally bought for any route to motherwell. I'm supposed to be the brains of the operation, too.
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 16:55, Reply)
Technically our weekend, since the spouse's days off are mid-week
We took our much-beloved, 12-year-old kitty in to the vet for what we thought was an infected spider bite. Fortunately for us, our vet is sharp as a tack and always looks beyond the obvious.

Unfortunately, her examination proved her suspicion that it wasn't a spider bite but was in fact a tumour. Kitty has a rare cancer with a long-term survival rate of 0% in cats. If we spent a few month's pay on treatments that will make her sick she might get a few extra months, but our vet advised against it (and I didn't want to do that to her in the first place), so that weekend appointment has only cost us about a grand so far in money. In non-currency terms, it's costing us more than I can describe.
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 16:43, 4 replies)
Being very stupid made for an expensive festival
My friends, if they read this site, will instantly know who I am when reading this...

A few years back me and some friends decided to go to Isle of Wight Festival, so I got onto the website and bought a camping weekend ticket. I bought the ticket and thought no more of it.

A week before the festival, my ticket turned up. The ticket I had purchsed was a campervan parking ticket at the cost of £200. So I had bought a ticket for a vehicle and not a person. Me and my friends do not even own a campervan and a week before the festival, I could not sell on or get rid of the ticket.

I ended up going along and buying a ticket for a person at the cost of £165, so what should have cost me a few hundred (165 ticket, 150 or so on booze and food) cost nearly £500 all in all.

And I can't remember a thing from drinking too much. Good times
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 15:46, 2 replies)
This weekend...
...some utter fuck-knuckle at Charing Cross gave me a day return ticket (i.e., the wrong ticket). I did not notice till I was on my way back into London.

Two fucking hours to get back, including a rail replacement bus service, and in total I have now paid out £47.40 for the privilege of a return trip to Tunbridge Wells.

And they wonder why people assault rail staff...
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 14:51, 14 replies)
Check the size of a lady's hands before you go down a dark alley with her...
I lived in Thailand by the beach for three years and got loads of visitors. I've never been so popular, but I was working so the visitors usually had to entertain themselves a fair bit. Almost all the bloke-mates who visited confessed, either at the time or later on, that they'd gone off with a lady while they were there who'd turned out to be a lady-boy. Not one of them noticed before it was too late, and they still had to pay, ha ha!

Expensive in terms of dignity and self-respect, priceless in terms of mockery fodder for me!
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 13:10, 4 replies)
That would be next weekend . . .
My final (hopefully) exams, allowing me to finish what is effectively almost 6 years of postgraduate study (and 25 years of education overall). These are next weekend (Fri - Sun), in Sydney.

Cost of exams - $6060 (ouch!)
Flights to Sydney - $150
Pre exam course in Brisbane beforehand - $250
Flights to Brisbane - $150
Accommodation (Brisbane and Syndey) - $1850

Having my family like me again, and getting some semblance of a life back - fucking priceless . . .
(, Sun 16 May 2010, 2:24, 9 replies)
Never mind Expensive Weekend, How about expensive thirty minutes?
Explained in three words.

Convention. Dealers' Room.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 21:21, 5 replies)
A short one this.
I was in Hampshire and needed to be in Birmingham for a convention. Back then a rail ticket was £30ish. "No problem" quoth my brother. "Give us £20 for petrol and I'll run you up, I'm going that way."
Then just north of Milton Keynes the starter motor/alternator/some electrical bollocks(I know fuck all about cars could have been a fucking veeblefetzer for all I know) expired in conclusive fashion leaving us with a broken car, no ready money or breakdown cover.
A couple of frantic phone calls and some friends riding to the rescue got us to a garage and thence back on the road but left me with a £150 bill for the...gizmo and labour.
A few years later I found out that we'd been travelling at 120mph at the time so frankly I'm just glad it was that bit that went sproing and not something a bit more steering/suspension related.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 21:03, 1 reply)
The condom broke...
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 20:39, 2 replies)
I was looking at the tour dates of a band I like and tickets went on sale a couple of days later. When the appointed day came round I went on Ticketmaster expecting them to be sold out. I got a ticket middle of the third row for about £30.00. Great! I'm in South Wales and the gig was in Sacramento California. I had a great holiday in San Francisco but after spending about £1k on one gig I can no longer comment on how much friends are spending to go to Glastonbury or Reading Festivals.
The concert was excellent too.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 20:18, 5 replies)
My MOST expensive weekend would have to be when I was looking to move from London back up Norf and my Mum rang me and said she'd seen a rather nice house round the corner from her and would I like her to set up a viewing?
I couldn't get up that weekend so I said to her she could just go and look.
she rang me after viewing it, said she thought I'd probably like it, but there was another couple arriving to look as she was leaving, so I rang the agent and told them to sell it to me.
They couldn't believe I wasn't even bothering to look at it but like all good whores, sorry, Estate Agents, were more than happy to relieve me of my cash.
Although, if you think about it logically, it was also a cheap weekend as I bought the house with the obscene and totally unjustified profit from my flat in London so technically it cost me fuck all. And I don't give a shit if house prices fall as I'll always have a 'free' gaff to live in.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 20:18, Reply)
Stinky Winky
I once went on the works Xmas outing which coincuded with payday, great timing as I had a young family.

I withdrew about £400 knowing that the next day, a Saturday, I had to do the Xmas shopping.

A thoroughly enjoyable evening was had, fine dining, and clubbing in Soho, very expensive bar, got several rounds in.

The next morning queued up for over an hour for a Tellytubbie for my oldest daughter, got to the checkout, not a single note left!!!

What made it worse was apparantly the MD had set up a tab, which was why the rounds came round very quickly, and those theiving bastard bar staff probably knew this and pocketed the cash!!!
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 20:13, 1 reply)
One night in Paris, is like a year in any other place.
Before we begin, let me just state that at no point in this story did I ever enter a Honda Accord. (Also, this is more of a mid-week thing)

Back in November 2009, I was working in a fucking awful job. I'd just decided to leave university due to the fact that studying management is essentially saying to the world "I wasn't smart enough to study economics" and was desperately scraping enough money together to keep paying the rent on my shared student accomodation as well as being able to maintain a 35% alcohol to blood ratio.
Days drudged by and I was getting more and more depressed, until suddenly out of nowhere an e-mail came in for a job at a well known Paris-based themepark.

I was absolutely stunned! They wanted to meet me urgently to see if I would be able to digitally animate and voice a small blue alien in one of their live shows. After a number of phonecalls and e-mails they arranged for me to head to their interview facility in Paris on the upcoming Thursday. Time is requested off work, flights are booked (£315 return).

Then I receive a voicemail, the interview needs to be moved to Tuesday. I'm in work so I call my mum asking her to take care of the details (£26.50 to change the date), time is booked off work and I begin to anticipate what could be the start of a whole new life for me.

Tuesday morning rolls around, I head to Manchester Airport from York via the train (£22 return), iPhone in hand with all flight check-in numbers stored. Sandwich & Starbucks at Station (£8)

Arrive at Manchester Airport and head to self check-in, tap in details... doesn't work. Try again... doesn't work. Storm Angrily over AirFrance's help desk and complain I can't log in, portly gentleman asks for check in details, he taps them into his computer and sighs heavily.

AF EMPLOYEE - "You can't check in today sir, because your flight is not within the next 5 days"
ME - "I'm sorry, I'm flying today"
AF EMPLOYEE - "No sir, You're booked for next Tuesday"

MY MIND GOES COMPLETELY BLANK.... Then I flashback to the phonecall to mum and me saying "Can you change the flight to the Tuesday before".

ME - "(Top Note in the middle of Terminal 2) I'LL BLOODY KILL HER!"
I scramble for my phone and desperately try calling her, she's at work, so I get put through and we have a lengthy debate about who was to blame, ultimately ending with me pleading with her to try changing my flight to today which it turns out is impossible, but theres a British Airways flight leaving in 45 minutes with open seats... from Terminal 1.

Ever seen that running scene in Home Alone in the Airport? I was re-enacting that but in fast forward, I find the desk and finally get to use the line "I need a ticket for the next plane to Paris, it's an emergency". They've only got first class tickets left. I reluctantly take it on the credit card. (£535 one way)

By now I'm running about an hour and a half late, so I make a series of calls to the team at Paris-based themepark to let them know, finally board the plane and land at Charles De Gaulle.
I rush to the train station and desperately try to buy a ticket (in extremely broken french) to Chessy as it's pretty much inside Paris-based themepark only to be told (I think) that the train has left and there's not another for an hour and a half.

I try to call the recruiter again, no reply. I decide a taxi would be the best way to get there so rush up the escalator out into the taxi stand without looking and my bag gets clipped by a large taxi-bus-thing and I crash to the floor. The driver gets out and begins apologising in French as I find my feet, I reach for my phone which has cracked in the fall and realise that this might be my only chance to get there on time... I try to ask him to take me to the themepark... he doesn't understand, eventually, I try to load the themeparks website on my horrifically broken phone and it clicks, he sits me in the front and off we go. (I can only assume he thought he'd really hurt me because he drove me the equivalent of Manchester to Liverpool for 5€)

I get to the interview sweaty, tired, stressed and a little bruised but it goes pretty well, not the greatest, but I'm hopeful. I thank them for meeting me and step to the front gates of the park and suddenly realise.
I'm in Paris, I only bought a one way ticket, I've no real way to get back to Charles De Gaulle, I'm due back in work tomorrow and I can't speak french. SHIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!

Eventually I end up buying a Eurostar from Chessy Gare to London, and upon reaching London buy a train ticket to York (£212).

18 hours after it all started I reach my bed £1118.50 and 5€ lighter, and to cap it all off... I didn't get the job.

Oh well, they're recruiting for the same position in Hong Kong next month.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 18:29, 11 replies)
I paid $500 for an 'escort'.
Everything was fine until the moon came out. Then she suddenly grew a beard, her breasts exploded, she started enthusing about David Essex and Cliff Richard, and finally she poured goo on my head.

That was my expensive were-Ken.

(mind you, it was all done in the best possible taste).
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 18:07, 3 replies)
me and my parents are driving up north for the weekend sometime in july
on top of the petrol cost, food, accommodation, gowns... i am picking up a piece of paper i have effectively paid £10 000 for.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 17:05, 7 replies)
Probably this weekend
Nipped down town this morning only to find income support hasn't been paid into the account, Of course the DWP are all closed and not answering their phones so we don't know what happend, probly be put down to a "computer error"
We have two nephews birthdays this weekend. We can just about afford cards for them.

Big thanks to the DWP fellas

(oh and before anyone starts the missus is disabled and I'm her carer we would both love to work but physicaly she cant and its 24/7 job to look after her)
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 14:46, 17 replies)
The school I taught at abroad closed down on a Friday-

Lost my flight home that the boss had to pay if my contract had finished,that cost me 450 quid (found it the day after for 300 quid!)
Cost me the £1000 bonus for completing my contract.
Cost me my girlfriend who lives there as my visa meant I had to leave the country.

My housemate in first year at Uni got a £500 'hardship grant' on a Friday, he spent 160 of it on a pair of Evisu jeans and spend the rest on Bolivian Marching Powder and drinks in bars, in one weekend.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 13:27, 2 replies)
back in the day....
I was a little bit fond of the Devil's Dandruff, you know, Bolivian Marching Powder?? And I mean FOND with a capital F...
My dealer worked at the same place as me. We earned v good money. One Friday he came into work with my supplies, half an ounce.

Me and my half ounce went out after work, clubbing etc and as it was summer I decided to walk a fair bit of the way home at about 5am, well it was summer and broad daylight. My half ounce was by now 12 grammes and counting.

200 yards from my drum I got mugged.

Ralph Lauren bag £150
Armani sunglasses £100
Purse £80 plus contents £100
Makeup bag full of rather nice makeup £200 to replace the lot brushes and all
Silver bracelet I got in LA, which I loved, another £100
Remnants of half ounce £600

couldn't declare the last item to the Police, natch.
On paper that was the most expensive weekend.. but if you add up all the stupidity it's a drop in the ocean.
On the plus side I've been clean six years now.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 13:10, 3 replies)
The Nation's Capital
Me to new interstate "boyfriend" - I'll come and visit you. I can stay with you, right? I'll book the tickets now.
Him: Sure, the weekend of the 21st will be fine.
Me: Books cheap Virgin Blue Saver tickets, anticipating a weekend of art galleries and filthy sex. I can use BOTH of my brains!

Two weeks later, interstate "boyfriend" is in town.
Him: I'm seeing someone else. Is staying at my place going to bother you?
Me: Yes.

Me: Switches times of plane tickets to shorten stay at a cost of $90. Books mystery hotel (which, to be fair, turns out to be good-ish and central) at a cost of $230. Looks forward to exciting weekend in Canberra.

Total: $500 I could have spent visiting my cousin in Coolangatta.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 10:58, 7 replies)
Fat Duck
In 2003 I took my late wife to Heston Blumental's Fat Duck restaurant in Bray for her Birthday. She'd been on about him for ages & was a fan of his column in the Guardian Weekend magazine. We drove there & stayed overnight in a B&B in Bray. So overnight B&B for 2, tasting menu plus wine tasting menu for 2 at the Fat Duck.

I can't remember the final tally but is was more than the week for 2 on a Greek island had cost me the previous year...

It was one of the very best restaurant experiences I've ever had though. Yes we had the snail porridge & it's delicious! As is the bacon & egg ice cream, etc, etc.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 9:02, 9 replies)
When I was a younger, more single man...
Every weekend I used to spend pretty much all my money on loose women (including the kind you pay for), booze and cigarettes. The rest I just wasted.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 8:57, 2 replies)
About £150 per mile.
I've noticed a common theme in that most of the big costs involve cars. This is no exception.

Last year I was laid up as a result of a wrist rebuild. On occasion I was totally struck by cabin fever and this was one of those occasions.
My son said he would take me out for the afternoon and he would pay for the petrol if I paid for lunch.
As the round trip would be about 60 miles at most I agreed. Unfortunately the weather closed in and a combination of snow, hail, rain, gravel and adverse camber led to him losing it and putting the car through a 180.
He recovered and the car was left facing the other way with two wheels slightly off the road. In a bog. As my ample frame was in the passenger seat the car started to sink and eventually rolled over.
We managed to get a local farmer to help us out of the bog and we drove home. The car however was a write-off. 60 odd miles and written off to the tune of about £9K. An expensive afternoon but all's well. We had GAP insurance and no-one was hurt.

The replacement isn't as good though.
(, Sat 15 May 2010, 1:09, 1 reply)
Big birthday weekend
Not spent all of it yet… but soon!

I’ve bought tickets for Roger Waters’ presentation of The Wall in Toronto this September. I am also planning on booking an hotel for the weekend so neither I nor my lovely partner have to drive home after imbibing whatever one tends to imbibe on such a special occasion.

However, that’s not the expensive part.

He believes that the tickets and the hotel stay are his birthday present. He doesn’t know that his actual present will be the tickets to London that I’ve purchased, along with the associated hotel, theatre tickets, etc. for the following weekend.

Total cost for Roger Waters? Probably around $500. Total cost of London trip? $4000. Still totally worth it for my best friend and partner to wake up in London, for the very first time, on his 40th birthday.

P.S. I'm still not quite sure how to tell him; I'm thinking of giving him the airline tickets instead of the concert tickets as we leave the hotel room "in error". Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. I want it to be amazing.
(, Fri 14 May 2010, 23:41, 8 replies)
Expensive start to the weekend
Turned on pooter, opened b3ta, saw QOTW, read QOTW, lost will to live. AND I wasted 7 minutes doing it: that's 3p in leccy I'll never see again.
(, Fri 14 May 2010, 21:12, 4 replies)

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