Most Brits on the Costas only want to play golf or booze, or both. And aren't good for much else ?.
Any reaction......................?
Perhaps a bit too 'generalistic' Tony (only my opinion, of course)
The Brit abroad comes in several varieties, each distinct from the other.
1. The Grass Killer.
This type of ex-pat is known as the Grass-Killer due to their unwavering opinion that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.
When in Britain, all things Spanish are wonderful and they can't wait to leave 'rainy old Britain' to get to Spain and enjoy the warm sunshine.
When in Spain, they talk about how they 'can't find a decent chutney, and that they 'miss the seasons' from 'back home'.
Constantly comparing the two countries, they unfortunately always find that it is the country in which they currently reside to be the one that falls short of their expectations.
2. The Spanophile
Shunning all things British, this ex-pat (usually accompanied by several dogs for some reason) has bought a finca in the rural inland and loudly announces their renunciation of all things British, intending to integrate totally into Spanish society.
Within a few months can usually be found making clandestine trips to the English Supermarket to stock up on Silver Shred Marmalade, Andrex and 'proper' bread.
3. The Essex Builder
Having inherited their 'Dear Old Mum's' ex-council flat in Beffnel Grin or Burmunzee, the Essex Builder 'done it up' and sold it for a £300,000 profit, sold their own two-bedroom semi, pooled the lot and 'come dahn ere' and bought a villa wiv a pool, 'cos you go'oo ava pool incha?'
The villa in question was built by Pesadilla Properties, three feet away on either side, from the adjacent identical villas, and has a large crack down the facade caused by their repeated failed attempts to affix a 2.4m satellite dish to the wall. The dish now sits on the roof terrace, thereby rendering the space utterly unusable.
Theirs, and all Essex Builder villas have a UK registered 1.5t pickup on the driveway, which they use to ply their trade as a General Builder. Other items to be found on the premises include a scooter with modified exhaust, belonging to the tearaway teenage son, a discarded white stiletto or two and sundry piles of ladders, roof tiles, paving slabs and bricks.
All of this conspicuous wealth is guarded by a pair of rabid Rottweilers named after two of the most ferocious characters in Gladiators.
4. The Shady Innocent.
Attracted to the Costas by the chance to make a new, anonymous start, this heavyset, tattooed, shaven-headed chap is somewhat cagey about his previous history in Britain, smokes roll-up cigarettes as thin as a toothpick and never sits with his back to the door. He receives constant calls on his mobile phones (4) and always walks out of the bar to receive them.
His favourite bar is frequented by similar types, all of whom mutter to each other over their beers, the only audible words being "comin' over from Morocco, tonight."
An expert in vacuum-packing and shrink-wrapping, and fully conversant with how to dispose of unwanted insulation from the innards of fridge-freezers, he runs a strangely successful business sending large electrical appliances to the UK.
5. Mr and Mrs Coffin-Dodger
Having seemingly lived on the Costas since the days when Franco was a boy, 'Bubbles' and Norman can still be found frequenting their local and are never seen apart.
Although clearly less mobile than when they first joined The Jet Set and moved to Spain, and in mortal danger in a strong wind, their longevity has become so well-known that they are referred to as the Duracell bunnies of the ex-pat community. So much so in fact, that the average age of the ex-pat in Spain will drop by 5 years when they finally pop their clogs.
A somewhat confusing couple, they constantly refer to bars by the name under which they traded in 1973, and talk fondly of people who left the Costas a generation before.
6. The Breath of Fresh Air
Flush with the proceeds of a redundancy package from Royal Mail, this couple and their 15-yr-old daughter have just bought into the Spanish Dream and gained the traspaso on a bar in the Centro Comercial.
Tapping the side of their nose with a forefinger, they whisper, "We know that this bar has had eight different owners in the past three years, but we have got some brilliant new ideas" from their barstools. "Within two years, we're gonna have a chain of bars up and down the Costas"
The bar opens with a bang, with drink and food being consumed at an alarming rate by seemingly every member of the expat community, (all of whom bring a bag full of Tupperware containers, into which they shove sausage rolls and quiche when they think no-one is looking) who 'pop along' like a swarm of locusts, joining them in a 'toast to their future success.
By 3am the next morning, €1800 euros worth of drink and food are gone, the daughter last seen disappearing down the street on the back of the scooter of a 'local boy', and holding a Denuncia for excess noise, they learn their first lessons.
Six months later, the daughter having fallen pregnant after an all-night beach party and the wife not having spoken to him for three months, the husband pulls down the shutter for the last time.
7. The Golf Bore
Sporting a black eye from the last time he demonstrated his swing (inadvertedly knocking a tableful of drinks into the lap of an inebriated Essex Builder) the Golf Bore knows the yardage and pin position of every hole on every course in a thirty mile radius of his home. Arms and face sporting an alarming collection of Melanomae, the Golf Bore is usually to be found, G&T in hand, regaling all who will listen with how he 'chipped-in from 50yds on the 17th' just that afternoon.
8. The Man of a Thousand Friends
Usually of a portly build, this chap spends very little time in bars, preferring to pull up outside in his UK registered estate car and collect his 'friends' to take them home after a night out. Frequently found looking conspicuously 'furtive' at the local airport, he meets more 'friends' and takes them to their holiday villa, not seeing them again until it is time to take his 'friends' back to the airport.
There must be more of these. Let's have 'em
MAYDUPNAME: brilliant. I'm gonna try and squeeze these into a prog.... Stephen Ritson in Pieces might be the ticket, as the one where I can get a long enough word in ;-)
You obviously know your Spain.
9. The Tuppeny-Ha'pennies
Frequenters of many establishments, their day consists of mooching from bar to bar, hauling a Granny's Chariot, the famed tartan shopping trolley behind them.
What, at first glance seems to be a random pattern of movements becomes clearer within a minute of starting an ill-advised conversation with the couple.
Through painstaking research, Mr and Mrs. Tuppeny-Ha'penny have found the bars, bodegas, market stalls and cafeterias which offer them the best value for their Pension Pound. If a glass of vino tinto is available for 90 centimos, this couple know. If a menu del dia can be had for €5.50 including half a bottle of 'whatever', they have a table reserved on market days.
Speaking of the market, these are no early risers, preferring to turn up just as the stalls are closing down, so as to be able to snaffle up a bargain or two, and in so doing, save the stallholder from walking to the basura to otherwise dispose of his unsold and unsaleable fruit and veg.
10. The Missionary
This septugenarian battleaxe has exported her Britishness to the natives and savages of the Iberian Peninsula and is in the process of teaching the Spanish-born populace to enunciate correctly.
Not for her the traditional ex-pat existence of limited vocabulary and bilingual fingers, The Missionary has taken up the gauntlet and become fluent in Spanish.
She can always be counted to make the most grand of entrances into any bijou restaurant with a screeching "Hola Pedro, Como Estas Usted?" ignoring any rules of pronunciation and insisting in enunciating her vowels in "The British Way". Hence, como, as in 'how' becomes Como as in 'Perry'.
11. The Lush
Once the life and soul of every swanky Costa party, and once a tall and willowy blonde, back in the days "when 'Banus' was a well-kept secret", she was the object of desire for every European demi-aristocrat, and with good reason.
She was famed for living and loving to excess, and could show Marianne Faithful a thing or two when it came to disappearing tricks with Mars Bars. Dom Pom was the drink of choice, and a midnight speedboat out to 'some prince or other's yacht' waiting moored in the harbour was her everyday mode of transport.
But, Tempus Fugit, and, having been discarded by a swarthy Austro-Hungarian count for a younger, more nubile model, she can be found huddled over a cafe-con-leche in a downmarket last resort marina, regaling all who will listen with her tales of hedonism, sin and debauchery on the Costa Dahling.
She is, occasionally mistaken for a person of wealth and faded grandeur by misguided and mercenary Low Life Lotharios. Being gullible themselves, as she once was herself, they turn on their charm and smarm, and schmooze and seduce their way into her nostalgic, yet still-willing affections.
After a couple of nights with her, a harsh and cold reality dawns. The screech of their tyres accompanied by their receding tail lights, shining through the clouds of dust in the car park as they make a hasty and final exit, leaving The Lush alone, but free to repeat her cycle once again.
12. The Simon and Jacquaster Tribe
The Rat Race was never the lifestyle choice for Simon and Jacquaster, two north London free spirits who, having found in each other, their kindred spirit, sold all they had and bought a Ford Transit Camper Van and a Thai-dyeing kit.
They, complete with four dogs and two children, (currently undergoing 'home-schooling in the University of Life') have driven down to Spain, avoiding the toll-roads, the police and, evidently, all sanitary facilities before pitching up at the local campsite.
The children are soon set to work as part-time buskers/ part-time shoplifters and prove to be the family's main source of income. Their father's dependence on his 'puff' and cheap lager precludes him from taking anything other than the odd day's work. The mother, should she ever succumb to a bath, generous and repeated application of depilatory creams and a good going-over with a hairbrush might just become presentable but is, at present, unwilling.
Three months into their sojourn, Simon sets fire to the camper-van, having passed out from carbon-monoxide inhalation from his faulty installation of the cooker (and some particularly potet 'home-grown'). Only the intervention by the campsite owner prevents disaster.
O.K. I agree it was a wee bit of a generalisation...... Let's just say it was 'tongue in cheeck'.
I don't know if those characters are all your own work, but if so, congratulations. I agree with Stephen -brilliant.
Having seemingly lived on the Costas since the days when Franco was a boy, 'Bubbles' and Norman can still be found frequenting their local and are never seen apart.
Although clearly less mobile than when they first joined The Jet Set and moved to Spain, and in mortal danger in a strong wind, their longevity has become so well-known that they are referred to as the Duracell bunnies of the ex-pat community. So much so in fact, that the average age of the ex-pat in Spain will drop by 5 years when they finally pop their clogs. I know these two well.
What made them so real for me is that I feel I have met the majority of them over the last couple of decades.
Crikes I may even be one of them...............
In fact you have just written a very accurate description of most of the ex-pat population of Benidorm and
its surrounding area.
14. "Billy"
"Billy" has become known by his Christian name - his surname being a word not spoken in mixed company.
Despite apparently being such an incredible success in everything he has ever attempted, Billy has rolled into town with a beat-up Head bag full of well-worn clothes and is staying at the local Hostal.
He tells all within earshot of his grandiose plans and schemes, in which the resort will finally achieve its potential and thrive, justifying each story with an anecdote from his personal experiences.
That his anecdotes sometimes do not bear up to close scrutiny seems to bother Billy not, and he quickly separates the wheat from the chaff among his inner circle of late-night listeners.
After clandestinely convincing the owner of 'The Breath of Fresh Air', (a bar in which he spends an inordinate amount of time for such a busy Captain of Industry) to invest €13 500, he promises to build the investment in The Project into an utter fortune within a few short months.
'The Breath of Fresh Air' closes early as they all go off to a restaurant, arms-round-shoulders, to celebrate their impending good fortune. (The owner of 'The Breath' pays.)
Some weeks later, there are reported sightings of Billy on another Costa.
Hi Folks,
Well, the characters are all 'my own work', but I cannot claim that they are entirely my creation, as they are based upon my observations of the various characters that seem to proliferate among the ex-pat community here.
Thanks for the praise.
There's more if you want 'em!
Seem to have missed Number 13 out. So, with no apology for predictability, and kow-towing to topicality.....
13. The Eternal Optimists
Brian and Janice are in trouble.
Again
Surrounded by all of their worldly goods, they are on the driveway of their rural villa,
They bought the villa with the proceeds of the insurance claim when their previous property - a four-bedroomed bungalow built on 'recovered flood-plain', very close to the River Severn, was eventually completely undermined, and washed away in the bi-annual floods.
Last seen, and according to BBC Radio 4, it was presenting a danger to shipping in the Bristol Channel area.
Deciding on a fresh start, Brian and Janice moved to southern Spain, seduced by the architect's beautiful sketches, shown to them on one rainy July afternoon, at the presentation by Pesadilla Properties in the hotel they were billeted into by their insurer, AIG.
Having shared a small apartment for 18 months in Spain with a nest of tiny ants and 70 small lizards (that seemed to get everywhere) , and having made the journey out to 'the campo' each day, courtesy of Dave, 'The Man of a Thousand Friends', they finally, proudly took delivery of the keys to their brand new villa.
Pesadilla Properties assured them that the electricity and water accounts would soon be transferred over, but in the meantime, to continue to use whatever they needed under 'builder's supply', but not to fill the pool up yet as there was, 'a small problem with it's water-tightness'.
They were also assured that the road would be completed within ten working days, but that in the meantime, they were to feel free to park on 'the top road' and pop across the other incomplete properties to access their villa.
Pesadilla Properties went the way of so many developers on the Costas. ('The way' being to cash in all the cheques and flit to Rio de Janeiro with the proceeds)
Unfortunately for Brian and Janice, it was pointed out to them that the land on which their villa had been built was classified as Rural, and as such, their villa was built illegally. The problem might have been spotted earlier by the local ayuntamiento's town planning department but, as is often the case with these things, the fates took a twist.
It appeared that the town planning department of the local ayuntamiento were unavoidedly unavailable, due to them being schmoozed and boozed... err...no, rather, they were on a fact-finding junket, aboard the MV Pesadilla, somewhere off the coast of Venezuela at the time.
A demolition order was issued. An appeal would not be heard unless Brian and Janice paid for the Court's time, (in cash, in €500 notes, in a Carrefour bag, to be left behind the cistern in the gents at Bodega de Miguel.)
Having run short of cash, (mainly as a consequence of paying Dave €90 each day to drive them to and from the property for 18 months), but also due to AIG, (their insurers) no longer answering their phone, Brian and Janice were sadly unable to comply with the instruction from the Judge's Brother-in-Law.
And so, Brian and Janice gathered up their belongings, ready to embark on their next adventure.
They had booked Shady Innocent Logistic Solutions Ltd to carry out their house move but he hadn't turned up. When they rang him, he claimed to be 'on his way, but still on the Autovia'. They look hopefully across the valley, where a stretch of the Autovia is visible in the distance.
Interestingly, the Eternal-Optimists can see that there appear to be several Guardia Civil cars and vans, all with 'blues and twos' flashing and wailing. A helicopter circles overhead and, peering into the haze, they can just make out a bald-headed man being dragged from a large van by assault-rifle toting Guardia.
15. Troy and Philip
Troy and Philip run 'Dorothy's', a bar-restaurant on 'the second-line of the beach'
The couple are openly gay, so open in fact that they have to be careful when standing up quickly.
Troy plays the role of 'Daddy' in the restaurant, and is responsible for the day-to-day running of the place, popular with the ex-pats who appreciate a carvery-style Sunday roast and Karaoke on a Friday and Saturday evening.
The Karaoke show is Philip's 'piece-de-resistance' as he simpers and minces to show tunes from the great musicals, feather boa flailing behind him. Troy loves Philip's show and, teary-eyed, Pernod and Black in hand, begins to hum along in a gruff, butch way. Troy's overt sentimentality is shared though, as Philip's finale, 'Over the Rainbow' can moisten the flintiest of eyes.
On Mondays, 'Dorothy's' is closed, giving Troy and Philip a night out, during which time they succumb to imbibing huge quantities of Technicolour cocktails. Lewd and suggestive comments are shouted, a la Julian Clary to passing pedestrians, to the general hilarity of the other customers, none of whom dare leave the bar for fear of suffering a humiliatingly catty riposte from the pair when departing.
By 11pm, the bawdy bonhomie has degenerated into jealousy and acrimony. Philip has flounced out in a huff, promising to 'find a bit of rough trade'. Troy remains, drinking heavily, great wracking sobs punctuating his declarations of undying love for Philip.
Lobsterov
It was the sleaziest photo I could find on the net. Although it looks nothing like me, I particularly wanted something that reflected my character, and so thought it ideal!!
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