Fookin Tourists

I used to love Fridays, now I dread them.

Another influx of 'grockles' - 'fookin tourists' - you can see a mile away thanks to the dodgy shorts, sandals with socks etc and that's just the 'women'. So, arriving at my favourite terrace for a quiet beer, contemplation and relaxation - gaaarrggh.

First thing I hear after my beer has been delivered is from the next table. "Eh love, is there no chips with this?" - the waitress looked at me for an explanation 'estas locos' I replied. Why would you need chips when you order Ensalada Murciana (Murcia Salad)?? Bugger King you all and I hope you get just as confused there.

Once in a while, I interfere (when brits are particularly annoying) and send them to my favourite restaurant here. Mi mariposa asked me why? Did I want to spoil a lovely local restaurant? Was it because I was trying to increase the income?

NO - it's because they don't serve chips, the staff don't really speak English but before the 'over-cooked lard arses' would realise, proper food would be on table before them.

Fortunately for me, most people here assume I am Spanish (until I try to speak it) but it's a blessing. I don't want to be grouped with the retards from hell (brits). Also, said retards, cannot adjust to Spanish time. Bumbling around between 14:00 and 17:00 wondering why all the shops are closed. It's Siesta time - go to bed, make love like sea otters, go for a meal...do anything except work. Shops will open again later, it's their job!!

Eek - gone off on one again, sorry.

ala,
S

ps Big Book of Madness -> "swear in a foreign language, develop breasts, order pizza for someone you don't know (then hide around the corner and chuckle)"