Worst Holiday Ever !
Years ago when I was unhappily married to my mad american ex wife she came up with the brilliant idea of a big family holiday.

Great thought I, now my family can meet her family and they can be even more disappointed with my choice of life partner. Then she broke the even better news to me.
The family she meant was me, her, her ex husband and his new wife, the 2 children they had together, one of his friends with his mad on/off girlfriend and none of my family.

We started off from London and went to look at Stonehenge. It's just a bunch of large bricks that's all, I think the ancient brits stuck it up to annoy future generations and fair play to them. I got bored in about 10 minutes.

Next stop was Liverpool as she is a huge beatles fan, I was born in merseyside and wasn't.

So far so good.

We next went to some castle I can't remember which one but it is apparently very famous. We wandered round it and I was yet again bored shitless. This day was only livened up by her ex husband being attacked by a peacock. I told him to flap his arms at it to scare it away.
He looked an idiot but disappointingly it worked.

We then finished up in Edinburgh. I loved the place. At last somewhere I could get a decent drink and somewhere I could have some real fun.

I need to point out that all through the week ex wife had decided that she had to prove to ex husband that she was well over him and that meant she had to try and dominate me as much as possible and ex husband had decided that it was my fault their marriage had broken up (it was, but as he was unable to keep his dick in his pants with other women I wasn't going to admit it, plus ex wife said I was a better shag) so he would take every opportunity to needle me.

As they were all staying in our small, pokey, overpriced flat in Hampstead while they were in London instead of forking out for a hotel ex husband decreed that we wouldn't need to pay for anything and I decided I would take advantage of this.

We ended up in a TGIF in Edinburgh and him and his mate ordered some drink that cost a fortune (£40 if I remember correctly) consisting of lots of spirits and I think chocolate milk.

I had two. This was after I had consumed some £40 quid of crap burgers and pizza. I felt pretty good and the look on his face reminded me of a bulldog shitting a cactus.

After this I would take every advantage of saying things like 'And one for yourself'to the bar staff, when their backs were turned, in an appalling american accent at every pub we went in and I also got away with 'Wanker' in the same appalling accent when we walked past this huge bloke. It was fun watching him talk his way out of that.

When we eventually got back to London we found out my cat had shit in the bag he had left his spare clothes in.


Do I really need to make a knob joke ? Oh and first post (ftw or something)
(bluetuba has a special friend in Blue Label Smirnoff, Thu 2 Aug 2007, 18:12, Reply)