Scummy Mummy Does Mexico

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As holidays go, I am all up for experiencing new cultures and meeting new people, but If there were a ‘class’ system for holiday makers, then the vile creature we met on our pacific getaway would definitely be ‘steerage’. This Scummy Mummy was of the ‘ Jeremy Kyle Show’ ilk, donning her best Primark leggings and serving ‘Polyester Kaftan realness.’

We were introduced to her at Gatwick North terminal, when she declared to the entire folk at Gate 27, when the softly spoken gentleman at the lecturn politely invited all passengers requiring special assistance to come forward;

“My daughter has autism!, My daughter has autism!”

To which the gentleman swiftly replied “Can she walk unaided?”

“Yes”, said the scummy mummy, who was then met with the response;

“Then she doesn’t require special assistance….now sit down!”

I have full admiration for those that care for people who are a little less fortunate and have problems with everyday life, however I don’t imagine even her daughter would want the embarrassment of her mother declaring her diagnosis to the 300 people waiting to board the Dreamliner.

I had nothing to declare, except the 100ml bottle of Paco Rabanne, purchased moments before in Duty Free, but unlike Scummy Mummy, I kept that to myself.

Upon being turned away, she then concocted an affliction of arthritis in her left knee, rendering her suitable for speedy boarding. Bitch please….I have rheumatoid arthritis affecting my entire body but I have waited my turn like everybody else. The only visible affliction she suffered,was loving food that little bit more than she loves Pilates. Nevertheless, she boarded the plane and disappeared from our lives… until we got to Puerto Vallarta

“Coach number 1!” the nice TUI rep pointed out!

We grabbed ourselves a drink and made haste to the comfort of the fully air-conditioned bus to cool down our sweaty bits after being pelted by 35 degree heat, dressed in our full superdry travel clobber courtesy of our North Terminal spend up!

As the bus filled, I spotted Scummy Mummy loitering, daughter in tow, who now, through no fault of her own and without formal introduction was known as ‘The girl with Asperger’s”. A total shame that, although we discovered her name some time later….she was defined primarily by her disability…owing to her mother’s shameful attempt to get one over the ground staff at Gatwick.

“Oh no….shes getting on our bus”, I observed.

In her crumpled polyester and newly painted nails (the Mexican flag…..natch), she sat two rows in front…..great!  When the TUI rep boarded the coach and handed out our welcome packs, and  our invite to the respective ‘Welcome Meetings’, there commenced the ‘Been here, done it all before’ performance.  You know what I mean right?….that annoying person who has been to the same place many times before and decides to make it abundantly clear by interrupting and correcting the tour rep, who is busily trying to do his job.

Our 1st stop is the ‘Royal Decameron’….our hotel… What luck? However as soon as he announced this…I heard the Scummy Mummy let out a definitive ‘Yessssssss!’

Oh no!, we thought, how can this be? How can Scummy Mummy be frequenting the same 4 Star, All Inclusive complex as us. Im not one to judge (I am), but she hardly seemed the ‘high- flying business woman’ type. I even considered at the Airport, whether she was at the wrong gate, or whether ‘The Sun’ had extended their £9.50 holidays to include the Caribbean.  This aint Great Yarmouth Yarmuff love!  All I could think was she must be raking in the PIP and Carers allowance payments.

On the coach she had an altercation with the couple sitting behind her, who had kicked the back of her seat.

“I have just had a kid kicking me for 12  f**king hours on a plane, now sit down properly and stop f**king kicking me”,  she shouted. (Unnecessary)

As we got off and checked in and went our separate ways, I was glad that the complex was vast and had 650 rooms, the chances of seeing her again were pretty slim.

Wrong

There she was at the welcome meeting again, enlightening everybody on all the trips and excursions that she has been on every year with ‘Aspergers’.

“Don’t go and see that show…the singers all mime”, and “Don’t use this taxi company, because they try and rip you off”.

At the end of the welcome meeting…co hosted by the illiterate potty mouth, the poor TUI rep took no bookings for any trips, thanks to the intervention from ‘Benefits Britain.’

The Hotel had 8 blocks, with 8 pools and around 10 restaurants and where did they put Scummy Mummy?…..in the same section as us of course, that was until she played the ‘arthritis’ card again and was moved to the ground floor…..every cloud has a silver lining.

We went back to book the trips. The ‘Rhythm of the night’ tour was extremely popular and we heard Scummy Mummy say that she wanted to do that on Monday….so we booked to go on Tuesday. Turns out it was so popular that it was fully booked on Monday so whilst sipping our welcome ‘Margerita’, on the boat, my eyes soon   fixated on the polyester whisperer!

In a desperate attempt to steer clear, the husband and I positioned ourselves on the boat’s bow, like Jack Dawson and Rose Dewitt-Bukater from the film ‘Titanic’.  As we sipped on our drinks and headed for the island, we couldn’t help hear the confessions of the plagued mother who was telling everyone that cared, that her daughter had paid for her trip from some compensation she had received.  Where there’s blame, there’s a claim!

Call me cynical, but I couldn’t help thinking that this was their way of paying for holidays. Scummy Mummy would  douse the floor with cooking oil in Sainsburys, and send her daughter down the aisle to fetch the Doritos and Beef Jerky, who would then unknowingly fall flat on her arse.

Everywhere we turned for two weeks, there they were!  Scummy Mummy exposing her cellulite and fat rolls to the entire beach, causing a mass exodus wherever she parked herself. (Every time her mobile went off…we all thought it was reversing). Poor Megan …yes we finally found out her name… spent the entire holiday in the hotel reception, stealing the high speed wifi (you had to get up really early to buffer before Megan had set up for the day), and playing with the strap on her swimming shorts (small pleasures).

We left them in Mexico, they were there for 3 weeks….must have been some fall.

 

 

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Don’t be Jel…be Reem!

Holidays!

In a vain attempt to entertain  the children during the Easter Holidays and draw them away from Youtube and Easter eggs for an hour, we decided to take them to Laser Planet.

Laser planet (or Quasar as it was called in my day), conjured up images of a plethora of ‘ADHD infested’ brats with their ‘council’ mums in tow, running around a dark room to hide the fact that they have no teeth….. We weren’t wrong.

With this in mind, we donned our Vivienne Westwood shirts and Christian LaCroix pumps and rocked up in the Landrover. We’d booked ahead and arrived in time to be split into two teams, red and green. There were a mixture of children and adults, ages ranging from 4 to… (how old am I again?).

My husband and I were on the green team, we were the only adults in the green team, so armed with the phaser..we took ‘Benefits Britain’ head on, in a fight to reign supreme.  We deployed a tactical strategy, I would take out Chantelle, the  ‘pasty eating, legging wearing’ bloater and he would covertly destroy ‘Juanita’ ,  the pink velour ‘tracksuit -wearing’  fiend (with one tooth…hence the name).

Chantelle was easy pickings…carrying 6 stone she didn’t want, she wasn’t very agile on her feet and struggled to get round corners without wedging herself against the walls. I did lose her for a few minutes when somebody shouted ‘Gregg!’, she must have thought they said ‘Greggs’ and dive bombed for a sausage roll.

Juanita’s choice of clothing was detrimental to her performance as the pink velour made her look like as psychedelic as an extra in a ‘Frankie goes to Hollywood’ music video. Alas when she stacked it into basecamp, nearly knocking out her last tooth…it was more like ‘Juanita goes to hospital’.

Without breaking into a sweat, we completely annihilated the opposition, taking out a few ankle- biting, kids in the process and the green team won the game. We made haste to the exit, eager to remove the stench from our clothes.

Chantelle was sweating like a blind lesbian at Billingsgate Fish Market, while Juanita gathered her 17 kids together and they sat down to their meal of Turkey Twizzlers and chips.

We walked out without a hair out of place and  they all stared at us as we walked  to Prezzo’s for brunch.

Ciao Bitches!

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