Never mind Puff Daddy, meet Puffy Slapper.

Two people walk past Elaine and I after the pedalo incident

The unfortunate thing about getting a fake tan before you go on holiday is that you get whiter as the days go on. I would be getting browner if I could go out in the sun. But alas after our pals 50th birthday on Sunday, we had to lie low on Monday as the sun was torturing the head. So yesterday started very well, fresh, rested and raring to go. Then as we walked through bar yesterday at mid-day we hear this ‘Hello Dave and Alison is that you?’ Well yes it was, so we joined them and that’s where we stayed until 9.30pm last night.
The unfortunate thing about going to bed at 9.30pm is that you are awake at 4am, dry and in need of water. If you have been in a bar all day with your pals though you don’t have any water in your apartment cos you forgot to buy it. So it is now 7.20am I have been up since 6am and am about to rush off buy a gallon of water and pour it down my throat at speed.

This will not have any effect on my, getting whiter by the moment, face but it will sure as hell help my liver.

The photographic evidence show last nights shenanigans hit a crescendo as Elaine and I draped ourselves over a pedalo determined to get a photo in which we didn’t look hunched, drunk, double chinned or just old. As we posed, David clicked the camera and the strain of keeping us two hefters up, made the whole pedalo lurch making a sickening plastic snapping noise and throwing Elaine and I to the ground laughing. Ah the sophistication. I am expecting a call from David Coulthard any day now, we are just the sort of people he would love to have on his private yacht in Cannes, I am sure of it. Still at least I haven’t got a tattoo. Yet.


Writer & broadcaster.

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