What's your worst holiday?

We went to visit the g/fs college chum Sarah in Onich via Fort William once, it was feckin' shut. We were stuck in a caravan Sarah lived in Nov time freezing cold... my first 3 in a bed but it doesn't count as it was only to prevent us all dying of hypothermia, although I did wake up with a handful of tit which wasn't my g/fs.

On the Sunday we decided to drive around the Loch to Oban for a day out only to break-down coming into the town. We managed to find a garage but it took what money we had between us to pay for the repair. We had to spend all day wandering around Oban without a feckin' cent between us until we could pick the car up later in the afternoon.... only to break-down again as we drove off the forecourt.

Sarah had to 'phone the headmistress of the school she worked at to ask if her husband could pick us up, as it was Sunday the ferry was shut so he had to drive around the Loch which added about 60 miles (the road bridge hadn't been built then). He arrived in a Scania tractor unit of all things & as Sarah climbed up into the cab she did her back in. The poor cow ended up in Inverness hospital needing emergency surgery & then having to be rushed back into the theatre for a second op because the surgeon had severed an artery.

Yup, I've got fond memories of that neck of the woods..... not. =-\\\\
If you have ever read Bill Brysons book where he details the fun and frolics he had with one Mrs Smegma in Dover during his first ever trip to the UK then that is the exact same description of the harridian who ran the "hotel" I stayed at on the IOW in about 1985.

Fucking awful woman and I was paying her to be allowed to stay in there.
Any holiday with Mrs H_M 1st; actually, that's not entirely fair, but any holiday that we took after we got married (with the exception of Cologne at Xmas 2005). Have had far more fun with Mrs H_M 2nd ;-)
I find Cholera Week rather trying,
and Colon-Prolapse Tuesday is always a drag.
Barbados, several years ago, Christmas.

Got 3 really cheap flight only, then stayed in a chattel house in the back garden of a restaurant owner in Speightstown.

Idyllic, large "pick your own" mango tree, chickens and mongoose wandering about, way off the tourist route.....

OK, none of the plates matched, but it was clean and when all the neighbours started to recognise us they went out of their way to chat, had a wonderful time.

It only went tits up when we got back to the airport.

They, Thompson's, told us the flight had been "consolidated" and we would be returning after dropping off half a planeload in Antigua.

Went through the inefficient tandoori oven that is Grantley Adams Airport, eventually boarded the plane about 4. 30.

Time went past, no water, heat blasting in, kids crying... the mood started to get ugly, finally, what did they do?

Fucking armed plod.

Eventually we were told there was no pilot to take us, and we were escorted off the plane about 9.00, then had to go through baggage and Immigration again.

Bussed over to AI accomodation at Sam Lords Castle, (now unsurprisingly defunct )

Offered a buffet, although we weren't told it had been laid in the heat for hours, resulting in most of us with the shits the following day...... plus I left my camcorder in the bar, wife asked where it was when I got back to the room.... rushed back, GONE.

Finally, the next day, back on the plane after customs etc.

Seated, then trolly- dollies walking up and down the plane, counting.... then again.... then again... then again.

Finally one of the passengers said, "Why do you keep counting us?"

She replied, "There appears to be one extra on board..."

Someone yelled out, "Yes it's the fucking PILOT !"

Much whistling and catcalling.

Did Thompson reps welcome us back at Manchester?

Did they fuck, they were backed by more armed plod.... cunts.
Try 2 weeks in sorrento during the high season, dear dear me, fucking shyte hotel full of mozzies no air/con and a thousand scooters driving past every hour, It was like trying to sleep in a wasps nest,and the laziest staff god ever put breath into....cunts
After an op tour to the balkans in 98' I took the wife on holiday to tenerfie. Being a newly made up lance jack this was pretty much all we could afford at the time, but we'd managed to save a bit while I was away so thought we'd push the boat out.....and did we ever.
Got the shittest seats on the flight, you know you've been fucked over when you're only 5 foot 7 and struggling for legroom, missus was all right though she was 5 rows back even after we'd paid for pre booked seats......fucking thompson cunts.
Anyway got the flight got our luggage, thank fuck and boarded the coach to our hotel. Now, when we booked we specifically booked a hotel that catered for mainly couples with no children, and we got nothing of the fucking sort...winner.
As everyone got off the bus at the various destinations it became clear that the hotels were becoming more and more gash as we went along.
Needless to say we got off the coach outside a bombed out ruin in fucking gorni vakuf.....oh wait no it just looked like that, it was actually the ocean club hotel....yay.
So we booked in, I had a right pop at the slag doing the meet and greet for thompson over my pre booked seats and was offered a full refund, fuck it I'll go double or nothing and book some for the flight home, made sure to add that I wanted seats next to each other not some that just fucking looked the same.
Got to our room and fuck a duck I've lived in cleaner shell scrapes. After scaring all the cockroaches out we unpacked and, bearing in mind I'd booked a room for a married couple, we pushed our 2 single beds together. Cue the fucking legs snapping off mine and making a big smashed up mess on the floor.
Decided fuck this we'll get cleaned up and go get pissed. So we had a shower and the wife plugged in her hairdryer only for it to explode and the plug socket come off the wall. Excellent things are going fucking great.
Quick visit of manuel the handy man gets everything up and running again except the scorch mark on the wall that would have to stay.
So we nip down to the bar for a few quiet ones and a bit of relaxation.....like bollocks at least 3-4 million fucking kids running around hyped up on double strength pop and fuelled by the constantly repeating party anthem cd which played such awesome part songs as music man and fucking agadoo. (this was played on constant repeat, the same 10 songs for a week.....jesus)
Watched a few more cockroaches scuttle about the place before the booze did its job of making the pair of us not give a fuck.
Went back to the room lashed up massively, to find manuels handy work had fucked the electrics right up, no lights, no fan no air con. Fucking sweet.
Threw in the towel crashed out on my wonky bed a foot lower than the wifes as it had no legs, sweating like a pig all night.
I can remember that costing about 1200 quid for 10 days for me and the missus which was a bit of a spend back then and it was a fucking god awful place. I also had a hire car as part of the deal and when I specified that I'd like a family saloon I got a citroen saxo 1.1. What a cunt of a holiday that was.
Weirdly though we both look back and laugh. Fucking 1200 quid, thompson cunts must have been laughing all the way to the bank, They must have paid around 40 quid for that.......cunts.
Brittany with now very ex girlfriend, her two kids (not mine) and her elderly parents. Too many people and luggage for one car so I went in mine with her kids and she drove hers with her parents. Before we left I fitted both cars with C/B so we could keep in touch.
It started to go wrong on the dockside while waiting to board the ferry. I was told that it wasn't right to talk to a German couple as they were obviously Hells Angels - they were a married couple in their late forties on a European tour riding a Honda Goldwing.
She had forgotten to book cabins on the ferry, it was the overnight one, but I managed to get a four-berth no-show.
The next day I was lumbered with her kids who had run riot overnight and was really pleased when they fell asleep. Quite a lot of hours later, despite telling her where to go over the C/B she got lost trying to find the campsite.
We were all staying in a six-berth caravan: the first thing I wanted was a crap, unfortunately, as soon as I moved I found the seat wasn't secured and it slid sideways trapping my bollocks. Eventually we went to bed and I went straight through the hole in the hardboard base.
It got even worse from then on...
I've been lucky generally, had some stinkers when I was younger and I used to take birds I'd met recently off for a week somewhere to "get to know each other", but I learned.

This year though... Paris for the France/Ireland 6N game. Before we departed, strikes at the Paris airports and a will we/won't concerning the flight, resolved okay ( it would have been better if it hadn't). Arrive at hotel to discover it has been taken over by people of certain Middle Eastern religion whose orange juice is seldom Jaffa. Bar in hotel closed and replaced by tea lounge. None of the sockets in the room work, first attempt to plug something in results in bang and plug propelled back across room. No other rooms in hotel. No rooms available in any other hotel we could afford.

Daytime temperatures hitting a high of -4.

Nightmare on way to game with Metro, where I got on one side of the ticket barrier while SWMBO was stuck on the other, with a valid ticket that wouldn't work, in the run up to a game at the Stade (you'd need to have seen Paris Metro before a game to understand). Staff shrugged & walked away.

Had my camera appropriated at SDF by security. I'm short sighted, don't wear lenses or glasses if I'm going to be taking loads of pics. Result if the game had been played I'd have seen bugger all.

Match cancelled.

Usual Paris haunts dead as everyone disgusted.

Next day, fell spraining ankle. Spent entirety of rest of trip in a cafe within hopping distance of the hotel drinking overpriced 1664.

Finally, security bod at airport threw a strop because a colleague shouted at him leaving my cabin bag & shoes inside a scanner while the check-in bird is pulling me by the arm and giving it "vite, vite!!"

It wasn't fun.
Last minute flight and "accommodation" on Kos. The accommodation could only be described as a concrete kennel. A pool over the road which was more of a drain. Spent most of our money on the lash the first night then lived on bread and jam for the next 5 days. Altercations with some Leeds lads, ambushed by south Italian tappers and then turfed out the kennel to spend the rest of the holiday on the beach with no money. Delayed return flight, then no trains or bus out of Birmingham Int. until dawn. It was grim.


Book Reviewer
Generally when my holidays have gone wrong I can prove I was somewhere else. If not, I would get my head down as best I could and wait for someone to make the call. The hardest part of holiday fuck-ups is screaming "SAY NOWT. ADMIT NOTHING. BE COOL. STOP HITTING PEOPLE" to the bird as you are dragged off into separate cars.
Republic of Ireland 2007. Like a fucking Craggy Island theme park, when things were open. Try getting let out of a side road in Dublin with an English registered car, impossible, chippy cunts.

Ferry trip back to Holyhead was like sailing steerage in 1902, British families under siege from a mass migration of alcoholics.

Eire, what a shithole.

Best holiday - Norway 2008. Civilised and scenic.
If you have ever read Bill Brysons book where he details the fun and frolics he had with one Mrs Smegma in Dover during his first ever trip to the UK then that is the exact same description of the harridian who ran the "hotel" I stayed at on the IOW in about 1985.

Fucking awful woman and I was paying her to be allowed to stay in there.
So what is a counterpaine?

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