The Britiots Home And Abroad

Great Britain is a nation obsessed with the weather. If it isn't the topic of conversation as an ice breaker, then it is headline news in the media as dear old blighty have an inability to cope with snow, rain or sun. 

The people of Britain just can not handle any climate change, but out of the 4 seasons it is summer where the country goes into the biggest hysterical frenzy.

Just as everyone begins to moan of “not having a proper summer”, the sun decides to appear from behind those dark grey clouds and it is at this point that all hell breaks loose across the UK.

“Today is going to be a scorcher!” announces the weather girl and due to these 7 words Britain becomes the capital of the fashion victims’ sunshine cat walk!
Before your eyes you can not avoid the sights in front of you. Everywhere you turn you’ll see the t-shirts have come off and the saggy man breasts are on show, this shall usually be accompanied by pulled up white cotton socks and a pair of sandals or branded trainers.  If you head down to the beach you may even be lucky enough to see the sprouting haired budgie smugglers parade in association with Speedos.

The appearance of the sun also means………BARBECUE! Come on people of Britain, you’ve got to have a barbecue!

This means everyone rushes down to their local supermarket, grabs a shopping trolley and fills it full to the brim with charcoal and as much fresh meat as possible.  The thought behind this is that not only can we Brits burn our own bodies to a crisp in the sun, but hey lets go the full hog and also burn our dinner the same way.  This may not sound particularly healthy, but you’ll be wrong as those dripping with fat sausages and burgers shall of course be accompanied with a healthy side salad.
I am sure many of you have witnessed that particular scorching hot Saturday, where hundreds of Brits (donning their white socks, sandals and saggy man breast look) are all queuing up at the checkout ready to purchase burgers, steak, sausages, chicken and the one family sized pack of salad.
This is all in aid for later in the day, so whilst the beautiful weather is enjoyed, we can also tuck into a fine selection of dry meats in a delicious charcoal marinade, which is then washed down with a cold can of Stella Artois.
However, these sunny days in Britain are usually few and far between, which means millions of UK residents embark on a holiday abroad so they can capture more than one or two days of sun.
Whilst enjoying the nice weather, you could be led to believe that they may also want to sample a different culture, educating themselves whilst enjoying the traditional food. 
What us Brits? Don’t be so ridiculous!  Why on earth would you envisage that!? After all we already have Blackpool!  It is just the case of needing the sun to go with it!
The most feasible financial solution is the packaged holidays, where families have been saving all year to enable them to get away from the regular norm and groundhog day. 
Imagine yourself in the familiar scenario, it is the start of your holiday adventure and everyone is full of excitement looking forward to their 7-14 day break. This is until you reach the airport and reality sinks in as you find yourself surrounded by the type of people for whom you were attempting to escape from.

You board the plane everyone is searching for their seat and all you can hear is the over head lockers being slammed open and shut every 5 seconds.  You eventually find your seat and hope (for the sake of your own sanity) you shall not be sat or situated near the holiday travellers from hell.

You have an early morning flight and have been up since 2am, all you are thinking of is how nice it would be to get some shut eye before reaching your holiday destination. Just then a woman sits down next to you and out of no choice of your own engages you in conversation.  This woman of course suffers from the common travel sickness bug known as verbal diarrhoea. 

This is not the relaxing start to the holiday you wanted, as you have to endure listening to her moan and groan about previous holidays, flying phobias and her husband’s heat rash in the groin area. 
If this wasn’t enough, you then get the feeling that the back of your seat is being kicked.  Yes, it is the parent who can not control her brat child from continuously kicking your seat.

Then to top it all off,  on your right hand side it is the family who can not speak without shouting as they begin the traditional chav on a plane ritual.

"DO YOU WANT SOME DUTY FREE DEREK?"

"WHAT TRACE?"

"DUTY FREE DEREK? ANY FAGS?"

“WHAAAAT?”

“FAGS AND BOOZE!”

Finally you reach your chosen airport destination and you get off the plane feeling drained, wondering if your ears are hard of hearing due to the high altitude or because of the verbal diarrhoea and the chav shouting.  
You know this is not the end though, you know you must now be fully prepared, prepared to do battle. 
Through our great British history we have had the Battle of Hastings and the Battle of Trafalgar, but nothing can ever prepare you for the Battle to collect your luggage!
Your personal space is about to be invaded, you become surrounded by man, woman, teenager and child.  The charge begins, as everyone is pushing and shoving each other just so they can obtain that ideal standing position to watch the luggage go round and round on the conveyor belt. 
You feel trapped, there is no where to hide as you become embroiled in the commotion as you attempt to avoid the BO stench from the sweaty travellers from the hot 2 hour plus flight. 
To the other holiday makers it does not matter though, it does not matter who may get in their way, it does not matters if they pick up wrong suitcases as they can just throw it back on the conveyor belt with no real care, all that matters to them is……...…….“I must get my suitcases!!!!!!”

Finally you collect your luggage and are directed by a holiday rep to a coach which shall take you to the resort and your hotel destination. The coach driver helps with your luggage allowing you the get on the air conditioned coach, you take your seat, surely now is the time to relax. 
You are joking right?  Just at that moment, just when you thought about a peaceful rest of the journey, Derek, Trace and their family get on the same coach.
The thoughts of that peaceful and relaxing journey go out the window, as you instead spend the duration of your time on the coach praying that certain people are not gong to be dropped off at the same hotel as you.

As you wait in anticipation for their hotel drop off, you gaze out the coach window witnessing beautiful scenery and unspoilt areas. You are then driven through another resort and it is here you think it must surely be Derek and Trace’s drop off point.

The resort is most definitely a tourist area as you can easily identify the stereotypical Brit walking along the strip heading towards bars named The Dog and Duck and Red Lion, with advertising placards offering full English breakfasts, roast dinners and fish and chips.

You can also spot good old blighty on the beach, as you witness one Brit with their top off, sporting a football club crest tattoo on their chest while her husband is burning to a crisp as he resembles a human lobster.

The coach stops at a hotel in this resort, it is the penultimate stop and as expected Derek, Trace and their 2 children get off the coach. You breathe a huge sigh of relief and finally relax as the coach driver starts the engine in preparation to take you to your chosen resort and hotel.

Then, suddenly you hear noises, loud noises with a very familiar grating tone

" WRONG HOTEL DEREK, WRONG HOTEL! WE NEED THE NEXT STOP!" 

“Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

Derek and Trace get back on to the coach and head to the same resort and hotel as you.