b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Family Holidays » Post 86425 | Search
This is a question Family Holidays

Back in the 80s when my Dad got made redundant (hello Dad!), he spent all the redundancy money on one of those big motor caravans.

Us kids loved it, apart from when my sister threw up on my sleeping bag, but looking back I'm not so sure my mum did. There was a certain tension every time the big van was even mentioned, let alone driven around France for weeks on end with her still having to cook and do all the washing.

What went wrong, what went right, and how did you survive the shame of having your family with you as a teenager?

(, Thu 2 Aug 2007, 14:33)
Pages: Popular, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

« Go Back

How could I forget?!?!?
Holy fucking shit I've only just remembered this real life diary entry (this was pre-blog :-P) nearly 10 years ago. It wasn't actually a family holiday, but it was at a place where family holidays take place, so with that tenuous point in mind, take it away with a lengthy-as-fuck post. Yes, it's long, so if you have the attention span of a gnat, just scroll down, read the next post and don't complain. Rargh.

Originally posted here: www.teamfishcake.co.uk/article.php?id=86


The story goes a little something like this:

Mid February 1998 a friend told me of his expedition to a certain holiday camp in Wales for a week. The way he described it, it made it sound relatively ok, so I decided I would give it a try. However, upon arriving at this holiday camp in the middle of May, things were not what I had been led to believe.

For those non-British people, holiday camps are a strange British tradition. One of Britain's many strange traditions. You'll get the idea of what they're like after reading this.

The name of the holiday camp has been changed…

Read on…

Arriving at "Fort Happy Camp" was highlighted by the typically dysfunctional family-style groups, behaving like dinosaurs, stomping their fat, ugly way through what appears to be a fucked up council estate with a bit of metaphorical sugar sprinkled on top.

These families must think to themselves: "Right, we've not had a good family row for ages, so we'll go to 'Happy Camp' and piss people off by blasting our insignificant ramblings into the eardrums of passers by". Not that the passers by give a shit, because they're too busy acting like twats anyway.

There are many different types of people that go on holiday to 'Happy Camp'. You get the "Anti-family" types like I just mentioned, you get groups of "Ladz!" going on holiday, seemingly for the reasons to insult and offend people, drool over underage girls, get their brains shafted by mass amounts of piss-diluted beer and think they're good because of it! However, there are also the groups of "Girrrlz!" that act in a similar way.

God, I am so fucking bitter…

You can always tell which people don't want to be there. Obviously there was me, sat in the bar, writing this lump of hatred, but generally, it's the teenagers that are in the "Anti-family" who reeeeeally look embarrassed to be in the kiddies organised "Entertainment" section playing "Pin the tail on the fuckwit greencoat" or something equally as dire.

It seems like you're being forced to have fun all the time. It's like "Look! There's someone who isn't laughing stupidly! Let's go and be dead funny, like, just 'cause we're CRAZY guys!!!!!!!"

You always get the mandatory twat of a greencoat who has seemingly been released into the real world after living on a diet exclusively of caffeine and slapstick movies. They think they're funny - they think they're really funny, yet it's pretty much evident that they were constantly bullied at school, dragged up by crappy excuses for parents, and fucked by strange men in dirty raincoats. It's the only possible explanation for a potentially dignified person turning into a hyperactive - probably drug-addled - arsebiscuit.

Holiday "camps" go out of their way to try and un-evolve the human race. The selection of events they put on is an utter pile of dog shit. I noticed one of their notice boards proclaim that they "cater for every conceivable music taste".


If it's not 60s/70s music, kiddie disco crap or old people's ballroom shit then they don't want to know! Rock? Techno? Blues? Metal? Classical? Drum and bass? Bavarian oompah music? No! "Every conceivable music taste" ? What a load of dog's cock.

'Happy Camp' is basically fascism with a big smiley face.

It seems that 'Happy Camp' is promoting stupidity! People may say "It's having a LAFF innit!?!" I hated it! People come and listed to cabaret by sweaty untalented songbotherers, dance to shit songs and wear crappy 'comedy' t-shirts.

It's so misleading calling 'Happy Camp' a family place.


Either people are supposed to convert to old people - wearing beige and grey cardigans and listening to fucking crap singers belting country songs out of a knackered old synthesiser and a knackered old voicebox, or piss around like spoilt little bastards.

The choice of things to do there was amazing.


It was crusty. The crustiest piece of bum crust from a crust-monsters crust-mobile during national crusty week doesn't even compare! It is wank!

'Happy Camp' is a shite excuse for a holiday. Entertainment in a can. Fun for lazy bastards. I don't want to go ludicrously over the top with fun! I would just like, once or twice, to be able to park my arse down of an evening, and have a relatively quiet bottle of Newcastle Brown in a pub. Oh no.

Oh fucking no.

'Happy Camp' have decided for me that I don't want a quiet time. So, I have the choice of a second rate combo of full-time accountants fumbling shitty musical instruments in a vague fashion to certain over-popular 60s/70s tunes, or a "disco" with "Happy Happy" songs raping my ears.

It's a place for unimaginative lunatics. Ok, if you've got kids, it would keep them amused, but so would a few cardboard cartons and a box of matches. They'd love that. I personally think that the American concept of "summer camp" is a great idea. Basically, kids go away somewhere and do activities for a couple of weeks. So, you pack the kids away somewhere, who cares where, and then pretend they don't exist for a few weeks! You get the satisfaction that they're hopefully enjoying themselves. If they don't, then just bullshit them with the idea that it's "character building" or a "learning experience". Lovely.

Actually, I suppose it was a learning experience for me. Learning that I'm never going to go there again! When I eventually have kiddies of my own, I'll shove them in a parcel once a year, and mail them to someone else to look after them for a week or so. It would be kinder than taking them to 'Happy Camp' anyway!

Unfortunately, the weather was nice when I went to 'Happy Camp', so of course you get the inevitable consequences of nice weather. The ugly people come out. By God's bollocks they're ugly. Fat blokes with beer bellies the size of a large child, and bigger breasts than most women, wearing a nice pink sunburn that I'd love to go and give a big slap to, just because of their obnoxiousness.

And, of course, the women. You know that a place is tacky when you see more than one woman - and I bet that you've seen a few of them too - with tightly permed, greasy bleached hair wearing a leopardskin style top, with a cigarette hanging out of her messily lipsticked gob.

What is it with these maniacal old witches?

Are they fucking breeding or something? All I can figure out is that somewhere, some sick, twisted and fucked up human being is misleading these clueless bints into believing that the aforementioned combination of UNfashion looks good! You'd have thought that they would have got the idea by now! And, just for the record, they always wear stupidly-heeled shoes, carry a silly plasticky handbag and have a raspy, croaky fart of a voice that sounds like they have terminal catarrh.

Then there's the spoilt little git of a child. "I want a drink! I want a burger! I want to go to the beach! I want to play Ridge Racer! I want a FUCKING LOBOTOMY." Screaming their way through the prison-esque eyesore of a complex acting like a little Mussolini, letting everyone, and I mean everyone know that he is unhappy. Little bastard.

I tell you: judging by the attitude and personality of the fucknut staff you get working at 'Happy Camp', You'd have better luck holding a decent conversation with one of the vending machines! The bar staff just grunt at you as they demand the entire contents of your bank account for a scraggly pint of watered down demi-beer, The greenjackets will try and make you do something "Fun!", The receptionists make you feel suicidally guilty if… no, not if, because there's something wrong with your stuffy apartment, The security guards eye you up suspiciously for just being and you just know that the canteen staff are pissing in the gravy. Bastards.

This is basically a warning to people - 'Happy Camp' is not a place for normal adults!

Stay away if you want to remain sane! Stay away if you don't want your friends and family to disown you for being a clueless wanker!

Luckily for me, because I was sharing my apartment with 5 others, I didn't spend too much money on my sentence at 'Happy Camp'. Only £47 of my hard-earned cash was pissed away. Oh, there was the small matter of wasting 5 days work holiday on this crap though.

God, I feel sick every time I mention that word. "'Happy Camp'". YUK! It was like, when I told people I was going away, and they asked me where, I'd tell them, and, judging by the look on their face, it was the equivalent of telling someone that I had small, insignificant impotent genitals.

Have you ever seen the film "Groundhog Day"? Basically, Every time the lead character wakes up in the morning, he re-lives the same day - Groundhog day - until he changes his attitude. Well, 'Happy Camp' is exactly like that. The same every day. Example:


Wake up late, burn your fingers on the crappy cooker trying to grill cheese on toasted cheap and crappy bread bought from a dirty overpriced on-site not-very-super-market.


Go down to the arcade, waste your money on fruit machines and insult your arteries by slamming your fat slab of a face full of greasy undercooked cheeseburgers and soggy fries.


Either blow your money on crap arcade games again, overspend at the bar, join the old farts in the 'pub' whilst in the background, there's some crappy arsehole called "Mr Eric " who is allegedly here to "Entertain with music and comedy", or, the cream of the crap, Spend a night in the fucking disco with fucking little sprogs on the fucking dancefloor dancing to fucking trashy pop tunes whilst a smarmy fucking bastard of a greencoat badly DJs. Crap. Or, you could do none of the above, and AVOID COMING TO 'Happy Camp'!!!

The lowest of the low-lights for me whilst I was at 'Happy Camp' must have been, and this really happened, dropping my sunglasses into a turd-filled toilet. Yep, after squeezing out a junk-food fuelled arse sausage (junk food ones are the worst type, they're really hard and feel like they're coming out sideways) I wiped my arse (which, if you're one of the archetypical people that come to 'Happy Camp' is a strange thing to do) and then, just a split second after I flushed...

My bastard sunglasses fell into the rapidly disappearing crap cocktail.

My gut reaction was "Shit! I don't want to waste a 60 quid pair of sunglasses" and, as my reactions got the better of me... I quickly... rolled my sleeve up... and... without having chance to prepare myself for the scatological encounter I was about to experience............................. I plunged... my hand... deep... into the toilet bowl... which was still full... of what had previously been... the contents of my rectum. I'm still emotionally scarred now, after having my own faeces stuck to my skin, and even after spending 20 minutes washing my hands and glasses, frantically scrubbing them, it still makes my skin crawl at the thought of it to this very day.

I noticed a shedload of people wearing designer labels around the "place of the damned" which got me puzzled. People generally wear designer clothes to make themselves look good, and stylish.


They were in 'Happy Camp'! That alone made them look like twats!

All day, every day at 'Happy Camp' is as mentally stimulating as hanging around at night outside chippies with the local satankids. I generally felt embarrassed to be there!

So I decided to leave early. Fuck 'em. So I gave them my money, supplied them with cash so that they can do more of their evil work. So what. I didn't care by that point. Goodbye 'Happy Camp'. Goodbye Forever, you weak-arsed fuck of a holiday complex.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we must rise against this evil tide of so-called "holiday camps". Boycott them if you want to stay sane! Leave them alone! Take them to a deep, deep hole in the ground and bury the fuckers, greencoats, holidaymakers and all. We must do it. For the sake of our nation's dignity!

Let them soak in their own detritus!

Let them burn in the vast pits of hell!

Let them rot in their own pitiful excuses for bodies!

The holiday camps should be destroyed and pulped to a mashy, gooey substance and dumped in our enemies territories. Then, and only then will we be safe from the tyranny of this sort of behaviour. There is no excuse for it.

(, Mon 6 Aug 2007, 15:17, Reply)

« Go Back

Pages: Popular, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1