Just had mine.
Went to west wales(outside Tenby) left last Saturday for two weeks.
My boy is scared shitless of flying so me and the wife decided to stay in the country.
Been to the site before on one of those Sun breaks.
Anyway pissed down from the time we arrived, went to the club house and highlight was bingo (I am only 33).
If you have ever watched `Phoenix Nights `you will get the jist of the entertainment,
I swear it must have been based on where we stayed, there was even Gerry the bear..allright it was Gerry Berry in the series but it was close enough.
Me and the wife got our entertainment from pointing out the most miserable face in the club, there was a lot to chose from. Nobody smiled...ever.
We left today..stuck 6 days...amazing.
Got over a week left from work, picked my two borders up from the kennel, unlocked the bike.
Enough time to do a bit of digging and a bit of mountain biking before I go back.
Don`t go to west wales (Manorbier) for longer than 1night.
Worst holiday?
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richter-scale
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DavidPayne
- Heavyweight
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- Joined: 11 Mar 2004, 11:00
Dont try Dublin.
The most over-rated destination EVER. My and the wife went for 3 days, spent nigh on £400 plus £400 on accomodation, parking and flights etc.
Could have gone to New York for that.
Dublin was the pits, grey, depressing and in places downtrodden and no more IRISH than London as far as I could tell. You could go for a day-trip and see Dublin.
Pants.
Oh and the legendary Irish welcome, it must have been the weekend off.
The most over-rated destination EVER. My and the wife went for 3 days, spent nigh on £400 plus £400 on accomodation, parking and flights etc.
Could have gone to New York for that.
Dublin was the pits, grey, depressing and in places downtrodden and no more IRISH than London as far as I could tell. You could go for a day-trip and see Dublin.
Pants.
Oh and the legendary Irish welcome, it must have been the weekend off.
mine was wales also cheptsow i blieve was my 25th birthday and my missus at the time, took me down there to a a fornicating helath farm, in the middle of the rugby world cup. Followed by a balloon ride, and im scared shitless of heights. Nice one. She got told next time you want buy yourslef a present dont use my birthday as an excuse. Harsh yes, but totally true.
She moved was out bout 18 months later.
She moved was out bout 18 months later.
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DavidPayne
- Heavyweight
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- Joined: 11 Mar 2004, 11:00
Trust me if I had known what was to follow I would have done.
P.S I hated dublin as well, most unfriendly place i ve ever been to, they seemed hate the english, wouldnt mind but Im an eighth irish. I think it stems from all the wankers that go there on stag do's, so fair enough they probaby get loads of pissed up english giving it the barry hence the reaction so understandable I suppose.
Still thought it was shit though. Now edinburgh thats a good city
P.S I hated dublin as well, most unfriendly place i ve ever been to, they seemed hate the english, wouldnt mind but Im an eighth irish. I think it stems from all the wankers that go there on stag do's, so fair enough they probaby get loads of pissed up english giving it the barry hence the reaction so understandable I suppose.
Still thought it was shit though. Now edinburgh thats a good city
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MightyWarrior
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- Joined: 23 Jan 2003, 14:01
I was in Mexico, doubled over from Montezumah's revenge ( bought a fish on the beach - not my greatest idea ever, as the sewage pipes only go a few yards into the sea 
)
I then developed a tooth abcess at the same time, which eventualy built up onto a raging pain.
I went to a local "dentist", he spoke Spanish, I couldn't even speak English, let alone Spanish. He sent me off to hospital. They gave me a syringe and bottle of penicillin and told me to inject myself in the buttocks, three times a day.
He told me to practice by jabbing the needle into an orange. My girlfriend obviously didn't fancy the job - so there I was, peering backwards into a hotel room mirror, needle raised above my head.......oh happy days
) I then developed a tooth abcess at the same time, which eventualy built up onto a raging pain.
I went to a local "dentist", he spoke Spanish, I couldn't even speak English, let alone Spanish. He sent me off to hospital. They gave me a syringe and bottle of penicillin and told me to inject myself in the buttocks, three times a day.
He told me to practice by jabbing the needle into an orange. My girlfriend obviously didn't fancy the job - so there I was, peering backwards into a hotel room mirror, needle raised above my head.......oh happy days
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jamesmcdonnell
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 45229
- Joined: 12 Nov 2003, 06:11
This will take some beating....
Went to Australia and Japan with a mate, who offered to pay for my trip for the company, so I went off.
Went to Japan for 10 days, had a great time getting pissed up in Karaoke Bars, all was well.
Went to Australia, and the plan was to fly on to Las Vegas to catch Tom Jones at the MGM grand, life was good.
Two nights before I am due to fly out, our car gets broken into, and out of everything in the car, only one thing goes missing...MY fornicating PASSPORT.
My friend has and the two others travelling with us, already have their tickets on to Vegas, so we agree that I will try and get my passport replaced as quickly as possible, and meet them over in Vegas. We arrange for me to stay with one of the guys families in Canberra.
The bitch at the quantus desk tells me I cannot fly internally from cairns to canberra, (which I find out later, is utter bollocks) without a valid passport. So, whilst my mates go off to Vegas, I am on a 59 hour coach ride from Cairns to Canberra, stuck in the sort of coach you might take from leeds to bradford, no video, and the bloody toilet is out of order. No food, nothing. Boiling hot, cramped, fornicating miserable.
After this enormous journey of around 1500 miles I think it was, I arrive in Canberra to be greeted by the family I am going to stay with. Only problem is, they aren't there. With 20 dollars in my pocket, nowhere to stay, I do the only thing possible, cack myself, and run blubbing like a pussy to the nearest police station. I break down in front of the desk seargant, who helps me track down the family (luckily they are in the phone book as the father is a local politician), and I go to stay with them.
I am put up in a tin shack with the brother, who is a bong head with psychological problems, in sub-zero temperatures (yes even parts of Australia get cold in their winter), and the whole time I stay there, the father and son argue bitterly, threatening to beat one another up. I apply for my passport which is going to take 7-14days to come through! I'm stuck with fornicating beverly hillbillies until then. I get a little money wired to me, and try and make the best of it.
Passport arrives, contact my family, and arrange to go and stay with my cousin who lives on the gold coast, another massive coach journey later (cheaper than plane), and I arrive to the sanctuary of family. The problem is, this sanctuary turns out to be less than welcoming. It later transpires that my cousin has just come out of rehab for coke and booze addiction, and is a real state. He threatens to beat the shit out of me as soon as I step off the coach, and has numerous bouts of violence whilst I am there, forcing me to participate at one point in a face off to see how well I can handle myself. I get him in triangular throat bar at one point (at his request to see if he can get out of it), I pull in and cut of his blood supply to his neck. He taps out, I let him go, and bam! He punches me in the throat when I am not expecting it! Things are not going well.
I finally get the money wired over to fly out, after a hellish week with my cousin, constantly walking on eggshells and trying avoid getting into any 'WWF' scenarios when he gets pissed and stoned.
Two days before flying out again, we go around to his friends house to get some weed, we are sitting smoking with a couple of my cousins mates, an ex-stripper, a golf comedian (I shit you not), a dodgy looking midget who has just returned from Russia, and Brett, who is asleep in bed apparently.
We've been smoking for a while, when my cousin decides to go check on Brett, who has been a bit depressed of late, and has been on antidepressents, he knocks the door but there is no answer, a little concerned, he pushes the door, but it appears to be jammed shut. He charges it with his shoulder, and finally it opens, and there is a dull thud.
"Oh my god" Peter, peter come quick shouts my cousin.
We all rush over, and there, lying prostrate on the floor, wearing his boxer shorts, lies Brett, stone dead, his face bright purple, with a belt lashed around his neck a-la Michael hutchence.
Some holiday!
Went to Australia and Japan with a mate, who offered to pay for my trip for the company, so I went off.
Went to Japan for 10 days, had a great time getting pissed up in Karaoke Bars, all was well.
Went to Australia, and the plan was to fly on to Las Vegas to catch Tom Jones at the MGM grand, life was good.
Two nights before I am due to fly out, our car gets broken into, and out of everything in the car, only one thing goes missing...MY fornicating PASSPORT.
My friend has and the two others travelling with us, already have their tickets on to Vegas, so we agree that I will try and get my passport replaced as quickly as possible, and meet them over in Vegas. We arrange for me to stay with one of the guys families in Canberra.
The bitch at the quantus desk tells me I cannot fly internally from cairns to canberra, (which I find out later, is utter bollocks) without a valid passport. So, whilst my mates go off to Vegas, I am on a 59 hour coach ride from Cairns to Canberra, stuck in the sort of coach you might take from leeds to bradford, no video, and the bloody toilet is out of order. No food, nothing. Boiling hot, cramped, fornicating miserable.
After this enormous journey of around 1500 miles I think it was, I arrive in Canberra to be greeted by the family I am going to stay with. Only problem is, they aren't there. With 20 dollars in my pocket, nowhere to stay, I do the only thing possible, cack myself, and run blubbing like a pussy to the nearest police station. I break down in front of the desk seargant, who helps me track down the family (luckily they are in the phone book as the father is a local politician), and I go to stay with them.
I am put up in a tin shack with the brother, who is a bong head with psychological problems, in sub-zero temperatures (yes even parts of Australia get cold in their winter), and the whole time I stay there, the father and son argue bitterly, threatening to beat one another up. I apply for my passport which is going to take 7-14days to come through! I'm stuck with fornicating beverly hillbillies until then. I get a little money wired to me, and try and make the best of it.
Passport arrives, contact my family, and arrange to go and stay with my cousin who lives on the gold coast, another massive coach journey later (cheaper than plane), and I arrive to the sanctuary of family. The problem is, this sanctuary turns out to be less than welcoming. It later transpires that my cousin has just come out of rehab for coke and booze addiction, and is a real state. He threatens to beat the shit out of me as soon as I step off the coach, and has numerous bouts of violence whilst I am there, forcing me to participate at one point in a face off to see how well I can handle myself. I get him in triangular throat bar at one point (at his request to see if he can get out of it), I pull in and cut of his blood supply to his neck. He taps out, I let him go, and bam! He punches me in the throat when I am not expecting it! Things are not going well.
I finally get the money wired over to fly out, after a hellish week with my cousin, constantly walking on eggshells and trying avoid getting into any 'WWF' scenarios when he gets pissed and stoned.
Two days before flying out again, we go around to his friends house to get some weed, we are sitting smoking with a couple of my cousins mates, an ex-stripper, a golf comedian (I shit you not), a dodgy looking midget who has just returned from Russia, and Brett, who is asleep in bed apparently.
We've been smoking for a while, when my cousin decides to go check on Brett, who has been a bit depressed of late, and has been on antidepressents, he knocks the door but there is no answer, a little concerned, he pushes the door, but it appears to be jammed shut. He charges it with his shoulder, and finally it opens, and there is a dull thud.
"Oh my god" Peter, peter come quick shouts my cousin.
We all rush over, and there, lying prostrate on the floor, wearing his boxer shorts, lies Brett, stone dead, his face bright purple, with a belt lashed around his neck a-la Michael hutchence.
Some holiday!
FUCKINELL.
Im going to oz at xmas as well.
hers another one but its no where near as grim just mildly amusing:
bout my bro's wedidng in South africa....
I hate flying not through being scared just the tedium and 12 hours later
and me old man getitng a warning for drunk behaviour on the plane we arrivedin Capetown...(honestly your parents you love em but you cant take emanywhere). Im not sure what I expected when I got to capetwon but nearly being strip searched by a gruff looking customs officer and it lashing it down with rain wasnt really on the agenda. , Anyway we headed off to where the wedding was after bout 4 days in capetown,
Lunch on the first day as you would expect was Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarge, the wine seller with the estate wine took a bit of abattering and the frivolity went on long into the evening, my night coming to a close at around 2 am. The bar staff looking longily as I trudged off to get some sleep, alas my brother and a couple of his comrades in arms were just warming up for the main event.
I got up at breakfast the next morning to see a rather forlorn figure rocking slightly on his balcony. This was my brother.
Now the reason for this shabby appearance you may think was an extreme hangover, well now that was only part of the story. At approx 6.30 am local time, 3 chaps including my dear sibling decided to go skinny dipping, 2 out of the three having the sense to jump feet first into the deep end, not head first into the shallow end. Yip you guessed it the day before his wedding my brother managed to split his forehead open to the tune of 9 stitches.
Bless him. With something very hard and heavy. Several times. (but he had kinda done that himself)
It was at this point that as Master of ceremonies my duties commenced,
calming the future bride down, breaking the news to the parents, and then
calming them down, calming my brother down (cos he was shaking like poor old Ali on a bad day, concussed hungover etc etc) You get the picture.
I greeted the coach that arrived to a big cheer of "only wils could do that"
and everyone thought it was quite funny, which I suppose when you arrive and everything is sorted out it was.
But for a while the whole wedding was off.
Im going to oz at xmas as well.
hers another one but its no where near as grim just mildly amusing:
bout my bro's wedidng in South africa....
I hate flying not through being scared just the tedium and 12 hours later
and me old man getitng a warning for drunk behaviour on the plane we arrivedin Capetown...(honestly your parents you love em but you cant take emanywhere). Im not sure what I expected when I got to capetwon but nearly being strip searched by a gruff looking customs officer and it lashing it down with rain wasnt really on the agenda. , Anyway we headed off to where the wedding was after bout 4 days in capetown,
Lunch on the first day as you would expect was Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarge, the wine seller with the estate wine took a bit of abattering and the frivolity went on long into the evening, my night coming to a close at around 2 am. The bar staff looking longily as I trudged off to get some sleep, alas my brother and a couple of his comrades in arms were just warming up for the main event.
I got up at breakfast the next morning to see a rather forlorn figure rocking slightly on his balcony. This was my brother.
Now the reason for this shabby appearance you may think was an extreme hangover, well now that was only part of the story. At approx 6.30 am local time, 3 chaps including my dear sibling decided to go skinny dipping, 2 out of the three having the sense to jump feet first into the deep end, not head first into the shallow end. Yip you guessed it the day before his wedding my brother managed to split his forehead open to the tune of 9 stitches.
Bless him. With something very hard and heavy. Several times. (but he had kinda done that himself)
It was at this point that as Master of ceremonies my duties commenced,
calming the future bride down, breaking the news to the parents, and then
calming them down, calming my brother down (cos he was shaking like poor old Ali on a bad day, concussed hungover etc etc) You get the picture.
I greeted the coach that arrived to a big cheer of "only wils could do that"
and everyone thought it was quite funny, which I suppose when you arrive and everything is sorted out it was.
But for a while the whole wedding was off.
Last edited by J on 23 Jul 2004, 06:03, edited 1 time in total.
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MightyWarrior
- Heavyweight
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- Joined: 23 Jan 2003, 14:01
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jamesmcdonnell
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 45229
- Joined: 12 Nov 2003, 06:11
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DavidPayne
- Heavyweight
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- Joined: 11 Mar 2004, 11:00
Tip for any English visiting Ireland - tell them you are Welsh!
Note - it also works in France.
I've been to Dublin loads of times and my experiences could not have been any further from yours.
I would say it has declined over the last 5 years or so, but my reason for this is simple (without wishing to start a big row) too many English stag parties generally trying to bring a little of Essex/Yorkshire to Dublin.
Note - it also works in France.
I've been to Dublin loads of times and my experiences could not have been any further from yours.
I would say it has declined over the last 5 years or so, but my reason for this is simple (without wishing to start a big row) too many English stag parties generally trying to bring a little of Essex/Yorkshire to Dublin.
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BunglesFingers
- Heavyweight
Yes Dublin is crap, but if you go somewhere a bit further out of town like Skerries sor Swords you'll really enjoy it and the atmosphere is great.
Problem with Dublin city centre is its gone all touristy and they are just after the $$. Never was much good anyway.
Also try Kilkenny or Cork, far better.
Problem with Dublin city centre is its gone all touristy and they are just after the $$. Never was much good anyway.
Also try Kilkenny or Cork, far better.
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TerribleTerry
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 5272
- Joined: 29 Aug 2003, 12:30
Both my parents are Irish, so I have visited the Emerald Isle countless times, though have never made it to the tourist trap that is Dublin: try Galway Bay or Kerry/Cork area for a real feel for the country, not an over priced town full of jackeens like Dublin.
Worst holidays
1. Malta - unbelievably hot full of locals who just try to feel ure missus up and start fights. Hated every minute of it.
2. Tunisia - hostile locals and sleazy hotel workers resulted in me having a fight nearly every day of the holiday - not nice at all.
Worst holidays
1. Malta - unbelievably hot full of locals who just try to feel ure missus up and start fights. Hated every minute of it.
2. Tunisia - hostile locals and sleazy hotel workers resulted in me having a fight nearly every day of the holiday - not nice at all.
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MightyWarrior
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 13284
- Joined: 23 Jan 2003, 14:01
Also rented a cottage in Sussex 2 years ago with the family for a weekend - "to get away from it all".
It started with a gale force storm that knocked out the electricity, followed by torrential rain that lasted two days. The rivers overflowed and the fields eventualy consisted of cows and horses, knee deep in water. The winds blew so hard that there were actualy waves, rolling across the fields. I almost went surfing.
It started with a gale force storm that knocked out the electricity, followed by torrential rain that lasted two days. The rivers overflowed and the fields eventualy consisted of cows and horses, knee deep in water. The winds blew so hard that there were actualy waves, rolling across the fields. I almost went surfing.
Just like Amsterdam. There were only 3 of us over there, and we got knocked back form every pub/ club/ coffe shop by the doormen.Lugh wrote:I would say it has declined over the last 5 years or so, but my reason for this is simple (without wishing to start a big row) too many English stag parties generally trying to bring a little of Essex/Yorkshire to Dublin.
Also Faliraki is a fornicating shithole.
OOoooohh without doubt my worst ever holiday was in cornwall. went there two years ago with my then wench, her sister and her sisters boyfriend. decided to go camping ( this was arranged and decided upon during a a bit of a liquid session). we were supposed to go for 14 days, dodging about. came home after ten. fuckin pished of rain non stop for ten days.richter-scale wrote:Yeah, sorry to hear palAnyway, chin up son.
we reckoned that if we dronve throught he night taking tuns eac then it would take us around ten hours (stops included) we got there after 16 hours. due infact to the girlfriends sister getting lost on the motorway on the way down. instead of waking up in cornwall i woke up at 6am in fuckin oxford. it was downhill from there on in.
we had booked a campsite , which when we turned up was full and had started using their "overflow" which was a farmers field with no shelter down one side. as a result of this there was nothing between us and america except the atlantic and we got every piece of shit that the atlantic weather could chuck at us.
went to visit newquay.. fuckin hell what a shithole. absolute tip. full of surf dudes and take aways. a cross between blackpool and the kirkgate, for those that know edinburgh. still we did find a cracking blues bar there.
moved campsites halfway through. got there late on didnt realise till we woke up in the morning we'd booked into an 18-30 one. full of nippy wee pudenda who called each other dude and said "hey" to each other all the time. went to the toilets one nights for a dump about 1am. halfway through i heard the cubicle door bang shut next to mine. next thing theres this pair screwing away for all they were worth. how the hell they managed despite the smell is anyones guess. so i made sure i made a few n-n-n-n-n strainng noises and let the odd fart rip just top let them know i was there. seemed to cool their ardour.
i could go on for hours about how bad this holiday was. but i wont im trying to forget it!