We arrived back from Spain late on Sunday night and if I have learnt one thing, it is that my body is no longer built with the physical strength to drink alcohol and eat red meat on three consecutive days, which is perhaps, no bad thing.

Fuengirola as a resort is a funny old place really, much of it is an architectural disaster that was constructed in I would guess, the sixties and seventies, to satisfy the demand from northern Europe and in particular, Britain. The sea front hotels deserve awards for their ugliness and the view to the west of our hotel was not dissimilar to how you would imagine somewhere like Beirut or Baghdad.

Our hotel (centre) not blessed with beauty

The other thing that stood out was just how pissed the British and Irish get when they go on these weekends; it is quite extraordinary the lengths they will go to, getting absolutely smashed out of their brains to the extent that they will only go home happy if they have no memory of the festivities and several bruises courtesy of either falling over or being on the wrong end of a fist owned by an Eastern European bouncer (something we witnessed on Friday night).

However, we met loads of nice people too, including a semi-gangster type north London couple in Puerto Bunas, two separate groups of Irish girls who were great fun, some rugger buggers from Northampton, a guy from Florida (who was visiting the Irish girls) and some Scottish lads who stayed just the right side of the line which says peace on one side and extreme Glaswegian violence on the other.

However, the winner of the pissed up British and Irish Lions had to go to a group of Scousers dubbed “the special needs crew” by the rugger buggers. Aged between about 45 and 65 these lot were drinking brandy on the beach at 11.00am, hell bent on nothing else other than getting totally obliterated to the point where walking  or talking was near on impossible. Each to their own, but what’s the fucking point in that?

What I enjoy the most is watching all the action unfold (I videoed it below) and a full fourteen hours after their first Brandy the scousers, rather impressively, were still going strong, getting chatted up by the rugger buggers who gradually dispersed (all but one of them) when they realised what they were up against (these girls were no oil paintings). I don’t know what happened in the end, the guy left over seemed quite persistent but at the same time, relatively sober, it was really intriguing stuff to watch….surely not the un-thinkable!?!?!?

Scouse joviality: Check out the woman third right…how she stayed up I don’t know!

So overall, we had a whole lot of laughs with different people; the weather was pretty good (24c). The restaurants were pretty decent, the seafront was clean (if not a bit ugly) and the bars pubs and discos were good fun and welcoming; as a bonus, the vast majority of people were just there to have a bit of a laugh and nothing more.

The highlights had to be me driving around a round about the wrong way and witnessing Pete dancing to Oasis…..

I will leave that to your imagination!