Britts Abroad (S.O.S: Sisters on Safari)

My sister and I went on the most ridiculous all inclusive holiday in Mallorca. It was bonkers. We had our mouths open from start to finish. It was the epitome of the Britt’s abroad anti culture we have grown to know and loathe. There was nothing Spanish about 853 room super resort, strait out the 70’s and so were the people. All there was to do was eat and drink and secretly take pictures of the animals at the zoo…

St’ terracotta was THE colour of the holiday. 
Some people actually blended in with the furniture. 
Dehydrated prune was a status symbol.
The only way to blend in was to become one with the lobster
Mullet Mayhem
A genuine christening
My favourite pair of lesbians. . .

The entertainment consisted of failed actors and impersonators seemingly brought back from the dead. Cruise ship style singers topped off with token mullets playing the last few decades ‘hit’s while the audience drowned out the drones of the casio keyboard, at it’s best with an electro reggae beat on repeat.
Other nights we had dancers, magicians, bingo, discos and a Tom Jones impersonator. He really drove the audience wild. Females actually took off their bras, dry humped there partners and then did a spontaneous conger onto the stage. He definitely deserved an encore and for his finale he remixed ‘Show me the way to amerillo’ with Hey Baby Ow Ah’  

If the entertainment inside the resort wasn’t enough then there was a local town full of the usual tourist garbollox, tat and totally terrible trinkets. There were clubs after pubs after cocktail fusions, all crammed with English holiday makers looking for absolutely nothing new. 

The bars even played the nations favourite soaps back to back with Rugby headline the big screen every night. WOOOOO!!!

 I think there were some genuine gypsy children there too, dolled up to the 999’s. No self respecting parent with a pair of slightly working eyes would let a child wear the clothes these girls were sporting. It just wasn’t sain. Then again the older ones gave them a run for there money, letting it all hang out over breakfast, lunch and dinner. And do you know what- Fair play to them. When you get to that age who gives a shit???? If you want to wear head to toe leopard print, pink valour tracksuits and go topless when you 70+ why the hell not? 

Sexy 69 in the garden.....
That was another great thing. No one gave a shit. Literally, there was no pretence, no one was showing off, no one was eyeing you up or judging you for anything. People just didn’t care. There were there for 3 things and 3 things only. Food booze and terrible tan lines
Separated at birth....

We made absolutely no friends and gained about half a stone. It was an amazing holiday but in a truly ironic way. I found my salvation, as always, in postcards. I wanted them to be offensive but my only materials were from leaflets advertising  ‘Western World’ or some deep sea experience so I couldn’t construct anything truly cultural

All postcards are free to recieve and anyone who sends an address gets one, as long as the postmen dosent pocket them of course. 
Art is to enjoy :)


  1. haha awesome. I'd love a postcard, but no fixed address!
    Timmy K x

    1. Keep your eyes out for the next time i'm on holiday and I'll stick something in the post to somewhere in the world for ya.
      Love from
      Charlie Gates


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