All Inclusive Holiday

Mrs Scady and I have recently returned from our annual experience with Britain’s underclass or as Mrs Scady prefers to call it our winter sun getaway. This year it was a two-week All-Inclusive package holiday to Fuerteventura. The resort, Caleta de Fuste, was superb, the weather fantastic, the hotel worth every one of its three stars, and our fellow guests were exactly as expected – Greedy Fat Bastards.

At each and every mealtime they could be seen piling as much food as possible on to their plates, as if they hadn’t eaten for a month. After carefully walking back to their tables with plates that resembled a mini Mt Everest, they would then devour it all in seconds before going back for another equally large second helping. I kid you not.

And, of course, these people were BIG. Not just large or fat but O-fucking-bese. It was disgusting.

Needless to say, there were lots of tattoos and piercings on show and a huge number of sangria-swigging older women showing far too much flesh than they should have been. FFS, there were young children around.

The highlight of each day was the nightly show in the cabaret bar. It was here that the talent-less holiday reps really came into their own, dancing and singing and ridiculously expecting that their next performance would be on the stage of a west end theatre or under the bright lights of Broadway.

It was cringe-making. Mrs Scady loved it, of course, and has insisted that we book again for next year.