So as we’re into the time of year when families pack up their suitcases and venture off to distant parts of Europe where purpose built hotels house lots of other English people and employe lots of English staff to feed and entertain them, while of an evening the English themed bars ring out to the annoying sounds of this years annoying Euro-pop dribble.
My own two kinder are shortly to venture off on their own summer holidays with their respective boyfriends leaving their mother and myself at home to make sure that Coronation Street and Emmerdale get recorded every evening and generally stare at each other across the living room while simultaneously thinking “Why are we still stuck at home while our kids are on holiday” only for the realisation to dawn that we’ve actually been asked to pay, on two separate occasions for their summer holidays, and we did, and now there isn’t enough money for one of our own.
Let this be a lesson to those parents of smaller children who read this rubbish, one day this will be you.
The only respite that we can take from the refrains of “Oh no, we’re staying at home again this summer”, followed by “Yes, the girls are away on holiday at the moment” and finally “2006” when asked when the last time that we went on holiday, the only respite from all of this depressing “We’re staying at home again” nonsense is that at least we don’t have to listen to this years Euro-Rubbish for every waking minute of every day of a foreign holiday.
Of course none of the following Euro-Rubbish tunes will ever surpass the truly dreadful “Birdy Song” by an anonymous band of self-proclaimed musicians collectively known as “The Tweets”, just don’t bother searching the MP3 lists for an album of their’s, there isn’t one, nor is there any other recording by them, they formed, they recorded the most awful song to have ever graced a piece of vinyl and then they left, before the shit hit the fan.
Not content with leaving behind the biggest and smelliest pile of Euro-shit Music for history to judge them by, they invented a dance to do to the tune too a dance that repeated itself every fifteen seconds, as did the tune itself, making its danc-ees look like short-circuiting moronic robots – it was the sort of tune that your mum and her friends at the working mens club get up and dance to at 11pm after ten vodka and tonics while your dad goes to get the coats, the sort of dance that tells the world “I’m pissed and I don’t care who knows”
It was the dance that the whole of Benidorm was doing when I fatefully visited that hellish place in 1981 and it was “The Birdy Dance” that won me first prize in The Hotel Bristol Park’s “Best Birdy Dancer” competition on that horrible evening when I had drunk too much, what can I say, I’m still embarrassed and Suzanne grabbed the first prize of a bottle of “champagne” from me in the days when you could call cheap fizzy wine “champagne” and not risk the French suing your arse off in Brussels.
Still, at least we’ve managed to miss the holiday seasons when this load of pap was in the Euro-charts…
Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini by Brian Hyland (1960)
Una Paloma Blanca by the George Baker Selection (1975)
Shaddap You Face by Joe Dolce (1981)
Agadoo by Black Lace (1984)
The Chicken Song by Spitting Image (1986)
Boys (Summertime Love) by Sabrina (1987)
Saturday Night by Whigfield (1994)
We’re Going to Ibiza by Vengaboys (1999)
The Ketchup Song by Las Ketchup (2002)
Bonkers by Dizzie Rascal (2009)
“We love Rugby League” by Little Ray Fensome sounds positively melodic by comparison.