Hola!

Hola!

Please forgive my lack of blogs lately. I’ve been in a Spanish prison for drug smuggling! I know, right!  

It all started when Dawn got us an amaaaazing deal staying at a dead posh place called the Casa de Net a Maracas Hotel.  Two weeks, full board for 99 quids. Apparently tourism isn’t doing too great here at the moment since they banned people from drinking in the street. Total idiots, how else are you going to get even more pissed on the way to the next bar?! Anyway, it was dead ace, the breakfast was all you can eat, although by the second day I was told to limit it to five platefuls which was a bit annoying. The beach was good too, and it was pretty secure, I left my cans of lager on the beach and the next morning they were still there. The opened one was a bit flat but at least no one had nicked them. We met these dead fit blokes on the beach the same day we arrived. They were from Newcastle and one of them’s cousin was friends with someone from Geordie Shore! I love Geordie Shore. If I win the lottery I’m getting my nose done like the girls in it. Like Michael Jacksons nose but more tanned.

Anyway, Dawn copped off with one called Greg and my one were called Sean.  He was so fit, like that actor from Emmerdale, you know that one that says ‘eeh’ a lot. We did it five times that first night, in the pool, on the beach, in the club, although the club shag was only a quickie as they started playing the Macarena and the dance floor got rammed, so we had to move back to our table.  Later on that week I won a dance competition, for ‘best bellydance’ which was good. It’s actually the easiest dance to do as I only need to wobble a couple of times and my belly jiggles for at least three minutes afterwards, all I need to do is move my arms around slightly. 

On the last night we were dead sad about leaving Greg and Sean. I was so depressed Sean packed my suitcase for me whilst I lay on the bed eating chocolate and drinking sangria from the bottle. I’d lost a lot of my clothes due to drunkenly stripping off all over town and forgetting where I’d left them, although luckily one of the hotel staff found my knickers stuffed in the pocket of the pool table, which must have got there when I was playing with some balls. LOL.

Luckily the loss of clothing meant that there was enough room in my suitcase for the souvenir Spanish donkey Sean wanted me to take back for his friend. The postage was too expensive for Sean to send it by airmail but he’d spoken to his friend and he said it was fine to pick it up from mine or Dawn’s in Manchester. That just shows how thoughtful Sean is, he wanted to give his friend a nice Spanish present for his birthday. Most men just say ‘I’ll get you a beer’. Which is okay at first but when you’ve asked for the new Beyonce album, and you just get a pint of John Smith’s it’s a bit shit, especially when you paid for a bargain bucket, two bottles of White Lightening, three Pina Colada condoms AND a box set of Steven Segal films for theirs. 

Anyways, when we got to the airport though the sniffer dogs went mad. I wasn’t too worried at first because as Kev always said, my natural body odour smells ‘beefy’. When they came back from checking my suitcase I was mortified when they said there were drugs. I told them it was all Sean’s doing and it must have been in that bloody donkey, but turned out it was a bag of weed I’d stuffed in the fake hairbun I’d bought from ‘Pound Country’ a couple of months ago.  I’d put it in there for when I did my ‘Peru Two’ smuggling hairband craft video for Youtube.  Kirsty Allsop has made millions from craft so I thought I would have a go, too.  It’s going well, I have fifteen views already, although one of them was me, I think.