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This is a question Summer Holidays

'We're all going on a summer holiday, and if you want to go yo Sven' rapped hip hop heavyweight MC Miker G - and it's as true today as it was way back in 1986. Holidays are a time for us to relax, unwind...and disgrace ourselves and our nations. Tell us about your best and worst holiday experiences. Again.

(, Fri 24 Jul 2015, 10:26)
Pages: Popular, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

In 1998 a Peshawar taxi driver apparently confused the "smugglers' bazaar" market described in the Lonely Planet handbook with the real smugglers' bazaar through the Khyber Pass in Afghanistan
As a result me and three friends found ourselves at an outdoors arms and drugs market, (after passing two signs that said in big English letters "NO FOREIGNERS BEYOND THIS POINT") where guys in headdresses bought and sold AKs, pistols, heroin and hash in quantities I've never seen before or since. To add a certain frisson to the atmosphere, they would test their new purchases by exuberantly firing them into the air. After politely explaining to the men who approached us that we really weren't interested in buying guns, drugs or women, we managed to find a bus going back to Peshawar but it was boarded by police at the border, we were arrested at gunpoint and put in the cells. Four bowel-clenching hours later, we got to talk to the officer in charge who let us go with the advice: "Taxi drivers are scoundrels!"

TL:DR; Went to Afghanistan by mistake, got arrested, talked our way out of it
(, Mon 27 Jul 2015, 21:19, 22 replies)
I went to Rhodes last year
After some amateur Indiana Jonesing in the caves beneath the Lindos Acropolis I found a smallish rock with YIUX carved into it, which my friend identified as a shot from one of the Rhodian slingers (dating from between 400-100BC) - YIUX translates as "Look out!" so it's the ancient world's equivalent of writing "Have a nice day" on the side of a bomb.
(, Mon 27 Jul 2015, 12:45, 7 replies)

(, Wed 5 Aug 2015, 13:48, 5 replies)
That time we lost nan...
Ibiza. Those of you familiar with the island may have heard of the 'hippy market' near Es Canar. It's a bazaar of shit trinkets and wooden toss carved by stoned, sandal-wearing Spaniards.
Decided to visit the market with my mother and my grandmother and various other family members. About half way around we lost dear old nan and decided we might as well continue around quickly and try and find her back near the entrance.
We did find her at the entrance, she was sat with some of the stoned sandal-wearing Spaniards absolutely stoned off her beak and requesting that we go back to my uncles gaff for massive amounts of lemonade. Rock on old bat.
(, Mon 27 Jul 2015, 13:48, 6 replies)
Going abroad
Whenever I go to another country (Sri Lanka, Cambodia, Thailand) I invariably find "British pubs" full drunks bellowing over AC/DC with a pint of Guinness clutched in one hand whilst trying to pull any woman they can. It's gotten to be a bit of a stereotype:

It's almost comforting to know that there are some constants in the world. Drunken British, drunken and surly Russians and surly Germans who may or may not be drunk are to be found the world over, with rather glum locals serving them.

(, Sun 26 Jul 2015, 12:13, 5 replies)

The time I went to Salou in the late eighties at the time they were dumping raw sewage onto the beach and sea. There were outbreaks of typhoid. At least one dead person found floating in hotel swimming pool. Giant rats inhabited the beach. It didn't help that I was with an utter twonk. For some reason that escapes me I decided to learn to windsurf. The horror of dunking into this sewage mess sped up the learning of the standing on the board bit no end. There was a certain corner in town refereed to as 'pooh corner'. I believe raw sewage was running down the streets. We arrived in a thunderstorm, it was pissing down most of the time and flooding. At the airport they were selling 'I was there in the scare' T shirts.
(, Mon 27 Jul 2015, 15:53, 6 replies)
I don't like summer; never have, never will
The idea of paying money, my money, money I worked hard for, to some fake-tanned slapper in a travel agency who's probably called Joy and who is having an affair, for the privilege of wasting two days in departure lounges, cramped buses and extortionate taxis in order to get to a place where the water feels wrong, the food is Russian roulette for the digestive tract, and all there is to do is plod and trudge around sights under the incessant glare of a too-hot sun - that's just fucking wrong. What muppet dreamt that shit up? What foul incredible genius managed to convince the world that holidays, summer holidays, are something we should enjoy, we should demand, we should fucking pay for out of our own pockets?

I see it like the naughty dog having its nose rubbed in its own shit. "You see this developing nation, you dirty Westerner? You see how they oppress their women and don't understand hygiene or paying tax to support critical infrastructure? This is where you'd be, unshaven and splattered with the faeces of three different species, if we hadn't raised you up and made you do some decent work. We give you the time off and the free cash to spend so that you can travel to these piss-stinking arseholes of so-called civilisation, so that you can come back home and appreciate what you've got." Summer holidays are like some bastardised moral lesson for idiot adults, which hasn't worked. Much like the dog returns to his own shit to scoff down a faceful, so too do the mindless Iceland-burger-eating Ingerlanders, with their chubby kids in tow, enjoy the session of dicking around the coast of a failed economy, slurping up grease and alcohol while developing skin cancer. The whole thing is utterly incomprehensible.

And if I were a mod, I wouldn't drag this question out for a whole fucking month either.
(, Tue 4 Aug 2015, 8:29, 52 replies)
I was on the East coast of America.
In September. 2001. It was my honeymoon. As omens for a happy marriage go it was up there with a wolf swallowing the sun.
(, Tue 28 Jul 2015, 20:26, 1 reply)
Romany caravan
Had a mini break in June , staying in an old romany caravan in secluded orchard on a farm.
On arrival I bought fresh baked bread, eggs, bacon and sausages from the farm,to be cooked over the open fire, the rest of the time I didn't see or speak to another soul.
Spent the sunny days lounging in the long grass reading, the nights daydreaming in front of the fire, listening to foxes and badgers.
Not everyones cup of tea but to me it was utter bliss.
(, Mon 27 Jul 2015, 20:30, 6 replies)

(, Wed 12 Aug 2015, 11:57, 5 replies)

(, Fri 7 Aug 2015, 13:45, 7 replies)

(, Fri 7 Aug 2015, 9:17, 10 replies)
Dear Richie. I am in the pube with the holeday moaney

(, Thu 6 Aug 2015, 12:42, 3 replies)
We went on holiday to the levy in the Chevvy, but the levy was dry.
The first two nights we ate green curry, the third night we weren't hungry so didn't eat and the fourth night we ate traditional local food.

So Thai, Thai, miss, American pie.
(, Sat 1 Aug 2015, 16:13, 9 replies)
ok, this one time I did a plop and flushed the khazi but it wouldn't go down and the bowl filled right up
past the rim, nearly overflowing, then the water sort of trickled away slowly and left all the mersey trout bobbing around in the bowl, landlord came out, called Dynorod, they said they'd have to unblock the drain outside, lifted the cover and get this, the bloke said he'd never seen a drain so badly blocked with mounds of reeking bumjobs

So yeah, I do the best bog blockers Dynorod have ever seen, go me
(, Wed 29 Jul 2015, 10:32, 2 replies)
I've convinced some other bloke to waste his money on a ticket to Columbia
I've convinced him I'm a woman who wants to cheat on her husband, I've told him I made up a sick aunt story to tell my "husband". In reality I'm going to stay home alone and do my own thing (smoke joints and watch films, mostly).
(, Fri 24 Jul 2015, 11:50, 4 replies)
i've gone on holiday to colombia for an affair with a married woman
her idiot husband think's she's visiting a sick aunt
(, Fri 24 Jul 2015, 11:31, 2 replies)
Nazi way to do it...
We'd been away for a week to the Scottish highlands and, on the way back, found ourselves in Tebay services in Cumbria, on the southbound side, at about 2am. I used to have a bit of a soft spot for Tebay, thanks to its policy of allegedly only using local produce and providing half-decent cooked meals, but it's almost as bad as everywhere else now, only more expensive.

It's dead - there's only us and the two girls who work there, when I'm suddenly aware of the sound of conversation. I look up to see two men dressed in full Nazi regalia (black uniforms - SS, I presumed) stood at the counter.

One of the girls asked them if they wanted tea and they totally ignored her. She asked them again, whereupon one said 'Not you - get the Aryan one to do it", and waved his hand imperiously towards her blonde colleague. They then strutted around the food area with their hands behind their backs until their order arrived, whereupon they picked up their disposable cups and disappeared into the cold, dark Cumbrian night. We just looked at each other and shook our heads.

Now call me naive, but I automatically assumed they were extras from a TV something that was being made locally and, as we left, I asked one of the girls where they were filming.

'Oh, no - they come in here once a month", she said. 'They always dress like that..."
(, Mon 3 Aug 2015, 11:57, 2 replies)
Guetta is a shitcunt

(, Thu 30 Jul 2015, 13:10, Reply)

(, Thu 30 Jul 2015, 10:58, 1 reply)
Well, Squatter, Squatter had a terrible holiday.
He was in Bahrain, which is a pretty bloody place to be. And there was this ant, which had only one leg and only one eye, and it was about two miles away from Squatter. So, a pretty bloody menacing position for Squatter, who was equipped only with, erm, you know, a hydrogen bomb, erm, six grenades, and, erm, a few rifles.

And this bloody ant, one eye, one leg, was advancing towards Squatter at about-, oh, I'd say at about, er, a mile every century, you know. Really speeding up. I think the animal was on drugs. Or heat, yes, as you may say. And Squatter, with his extraordinary calm, took it very smoothly. And do you know what he did?


He immediately did nothing.

And this stupified the ant. Stopped in its tracks. Didn't move an inch for about, um, three and a half years, yes. But still Squatter was very much aware of the problem of the ant, with all of one leg and all of one eye, advancing towards him. So he took up, you know, a strategic position with about five thousand men on one side and seven thousand men on the other side, all equipped with, er, various kinds of guns and so on. The ant was, er, fairly pinpointed. But what was odd was the ant understood Squatter. The ant realised he was up against somebody as good as-, as good as he was. Equals in their struggle, yes. So Squatter, with a tremendous display of courage, put up his hands and surrendered.

And the ant, five years laters, yes, five years laters, crept into the, er, hole, and Squatter was gone.

And this is the extraordinary thing about Squatter: he was never there when he was wanted. And Squatter told me later that, ah, he'd gone because he'd had to go.

That sums up Squatter for me.
(, Wed 29 Jul 2015, 21:26, 7 replies)
My brother and I went on holiday with a few mates to a French campsite - they had some 'normal' toilets and some of those where you squat on the footprints and hope for the best.

Every morning without fail my brother would go to the bogs, find only 'squatters' available, pull down his shorts and assume the position, and all his change would drop out of his pockets and fall down the hole. Then he would swear loudly and try not to overbalance. Every single morning.
(, Wed 29 Jul 2015, 12:22, 1 reply)
I was pick pocketed and lost all my holiday money.
The name of the hotbed of crime? The Isles of Scilly.
(, Wed 29 Jul 2015, 8:39, 2 replies)
I'm not a summer person
When the temps get over 20 degrees I get moody and uncomfortable; when it hits 25 degrees I develop a perpetual sheen of sweat that makes me look like I use Pledge as a deodorant. When it hits 30 I turn briefly into a drooling retard before collapsing in the heat.

Which is why I spent my last summer holiday in Norway. In late May winter is only just starting to fade away, and there are still huge piles of snow up in the mountains. It's the perfect time to go scrambling around the craggy cliffs that make up the western fjords.

The best one, and arguably Norway's premium tourist location, is Preikestolen. It's 600metres straight down to the fjord below:

And as REM sang, that's me in the corner...
(, Mon 27 Jul 2015, 7:37, 12 replies)
Fijians aren't known for their political correctness. I remember resort staff strapping Japanese deaf-mutes into parasails and hooting with delight when they shot 50 feet into the air. In particular they found the "Muhhhh" sound the deaf-mutes were making (which could have been exhilaration or pure terror) sidesplittingly funny, and with tears in their eyes would imitate the sound to each other while they were hauling their guests back down.
(, Sun 26 Jul 2015, 9:21, 4 replies)
Hello my name is Jacob dyer. I sound like barnaby bear. I like barnaby bear. I live in Bristol. It is fantastic. One time I went to France. Some kid burned my neck. I didn't like it.

(, Sat 25 Jul 2015, 22:51, 2 replies)
Don't let the buffalo stop you
I got tired driving to distant Yellowstone Park in Wyoming, USA, so when I finally got there, I was just plain tired. I got out of the car and started walking across the parking lot towards the Visitor's Center in a fatigued haze.

Just then, I noticed tourists reacting to some sort of inscrutable drama. They were all lined up on a wooden walkway and squinting into their cameras, and lifting them to their faces. I could feel the excitement building as they leaned forward against a railing. Transfixed by the sight, I looked over my shoulder and stared at them, but continued walking across the parking lot towards the Visitor's Center. After a few moments, I lost interest in their building excitement, turned around to face the direction I was walking, and stopped.

I was face-to-face with a bison. Close enough to kick it with my stubby legs. Unbeknownst to me, several bison were eating grass from the under the mottled shadows of the pine trees in the parking lot medians. The drama the tourists was watching was of some fool tourist walking purposefully, if distractedly, right into the face of one of them. A perfect picture!

Bloody bison gorings happen with some regularity at the park, usually as the result of summertime tourist harassment, but I caught this bison by surprise, since my approach had been so swift, direct, and inexplicable. We both blinked at each other, and I slowly backed away. A groan of disappointment rose from the tourists watching with bated breath. Such a spectacular picture, ruined.....

(, Sat 25 Jul 2015, 0:07, 4 replies)

I live in Bristol and it's fantastic - can't fault it. I did however on one occasion in the past take a holiday. I didn't want to go too far afield, so I settled on France. All was going well until for reasons I have still to fathom, a child attempted to set fire to my neck. I can assure you it wasn't an enjoyable experience and frankly it ruined my holiday.
(, Fri 24 Jul 2015, 19:05, 4 replies)
I once saw a couple having sex

So did everyone else so it seemed when i turned my head to see everyone on their balconies gawping.

So did everyone around the pool...

Did I mention it was Magaluf, in the height of summer? Did I mention it was about 2pm, or that it was on a walkway above the main high street...

Or that they were screaming love noises...?

Although bless'em, they did have the courtesy to stop when a couple tried to walk past. Then they carried on oblivious. Interspersed with her turning round and giving him a blowy.

It attracted some sort of horrified interest. All whilst this is going on kids with armbands running past me... playing games around the pool. Really very strange afternoon that.

Best part... when they finished they both kissed and headed off in different directions...

Through the magic of google here is that balcony:

(, Fri 24 Jul 2015, 14:56, 11 replies)

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