Can I have a rant? (This is the result of too much coffee)

Can I have a rant? Please? I’ve had less than two hours of sleep and over 15 cups of coffee today, and I’d just like a little natter on the subject of Brits abroad.

I did some work three years ago, shadowing travel reps in Sa Coma, Mallorca, in the Balearic Islands. Now I should explain that Sa Coma is on the east side of the Island, normally populated by Catalans and German tourists, until the summer season, where things get very, very British.

Now, as a rule, the Brits abroad don’t do my country any favours, per se, but in Sa Coma, I saw the very worst of us abroad. These are the people who spend the majority of their lives living off government handouts, displaying generally poor hygiene, drinking too much beer and refusing to try local culture. Some of Europe’s finest beer, lager, fish, and Tapas comes from Mallorca, but I challenge anyone to get it in Sa Coma. The Beer and Lagers are easy to come by, but Tapas and decent Hake, for which the island is famed, is nonexistent in the town. I’m not exaggerating for effect, literally no sign of Catalan culture can be spotted until Sundays, where the local Catholic church is packed and nothing outside of the hotels are open.

Instead, the strip is covered in mock- British pubs which had previously been local cafes and restaurants, selling tacky, low-quality food that’s guaran-fucking-teed to give you food poisoning. These cafes sell booze at rock-bottom prices, and if you drink liquor, the bartenders have no idea about standard drinking measures. There’s also no real ID checks by the bartenders, so under-age drinking is very, very easy. It’s ridiculous. The lights in the evening are strong enough to cause epileptic seizures, the dry ice is suffocating, and all you can see as decor is St. George’s Flags.

I fucking hate the Brits abroad.

Yours,

Davey

 

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