So I went to Benidorm.
And it was exactly what I thought it would be.
Mobility scooters for the able bodied, knives, guns, tarts, transsexuals, cabaret, ping pong balls flying out of pum pums.
It’s not what you expect on the road in. You see the odd scenic mountain and Scarface villas. Roadtrip to Vegas fams.
In fact…
Benidorm is a lot like Las Vegas for people who hate Americans. If you love gambling, strippers and crashing weddings whilst feeling like you just got thrown overboard on a cruise-ship BUT you’re hyper-English and have only ever rubbed your butt cheeks on the faux leather of a Ryanair seat whilst sat next to a hulking 40 year old baby in golf garms – then you have definitely never left Europe. Try Benidorm. It has exactly what you need.
But then slap bang, you’re off the motorway and the murky poor mans Manhattan skyline pops up. Blackpool…by the sea…with money. No Big Tasty on a windy promenade luv, this is the shit.
(The sea is actually very clean by the way – no floating condoms).
You’re firmly under the gaze of Sauron Towers ready to summer holiday in a limbo land of high-rise terracotta flats with faded beach towels.
I’d fuchs with the Old Town. They had five star hotels up there…but still guns everywhere. 
Heard some mad grown man bastard with his bird wondering whether he could take a BB uzi-gun back home. Girlfriend was like ‘don’t want armed forces jumping on me ‘.
Welcome to Hooch’s Mad House…beer, bongs, pussy and Labradors.
You can get the goods in Beni. Get touched up under the table by some dude called Marvin. Wake up the next morning and he bought you a little personalised ‘Together Forever – Benidorm’ licence plate that you can absolutely nothing with but hang on your door like an unloved child. Thoughtful bastard. Together Forever Benidorm though. Three words that should NEVER be seen together.
I see these every day.
My man had the mince on. ‘CRAZY SEXY COOL’ embroidered on his batty and a 5 year old girls t-shirt. Not creepy at all. He went to the fish market after I finished stalking him.
And oh friends. The packed out cafe serving English breakfasts with rounds of bingo. Drowning in freaks. I loved it.
ESPECTACULO! SENSULIDAD! EROTISIMO!
Spanish for creepy greasy motherfucker in a mask taking touching himself and using his lovewand as a magic coat hanger. Or as my brother said….”LOOK! HE’S GETTING NOSHED OFF BY A DOG!” Need a freaky streaper? Yeah call Marcos.
They got entertainment on lock out there though…shame I missed it.
I left way too early. I hadn’t flashed my tits. Didn’t go bareback riding on a mobility scooter (the definition of tun up). I hadn’t ‘trapped off’ with anybody from Burnley. Didn’t drink a Fat Frog with Marcos The Streaper. I hadn’t bought a BB gun and shot motherfuckers in the sea off a banana boat. I didn’t catch Sticky Vicky’s ping-pong pum balls in my mouth. Didn’t play sex with friends…didn’t guess the baby daddy…didn’t see sing a duet with Frenchy from Benidorm’s Westlife..I – K- R. Boyzone were so much better.
HOLIDAY SEASON.
