As I skipped back to the sun loungers where my mam was baking and my dad, despite being sat in the shade all day, was slowly going crimson, I was so excited for our first night out. We went back to our room to get ready. Now me and my mam have naturally curly hair anyway but on holiday it is something else. We are like bloody Crystal Tipps. Doesn’t matter how many times you go on holiday you never get used to using a hair dryer in blazing heat – it is sickening, like I actually have a mini sick while I do it. But I managed to do it then I popped one of my new dresses on and sprayed myself with my mam’s Angel perfume.
The mini disco always started the same, with some Spanish song which no one understood and which probably meant something very inappropriate as the one word you could understand in it was ‘sexy’, but it had a kiddy dance to go with it so it’s all good. Then the competitions would start where you could win a certificate and a cocktail for your parent, even though all the cocktails were free anyway as it was all-inclusive (they’d get round this by bunging a sparkler and a fancy straw in it and pretending they’d used the top-shelf spirits). The host – whose stage name was Mario – explained the first event. Mario was tantastic and super shiny, his hair gelled into spikes, and he always had his shirt undone to his belly button. In a nutshell he resembled a really basic value Ricky Martin, always smiling and hanging around all the mams, especially the single mams.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, give us a cheer if it’s your first night joining us for the mini disco. Right, for those who cheered let me explain, I am going to go around the children and ask their name, where they come from, what they want to be when they’re older and their funniest joke. They all get a certificate for taking part and the winner wins a cocktail for their mummy.’
I still remember the look on everybody’s face when the first little boy went up to the mic. ‘My name’s Robert, I’m from England. I want to be a footie player when I grow up and play for Man United.’ I mean some people cheered and some people actually booed a six-year-old child because he mentioned Man U.
‘And can you tell us your funniest joke, Robert?’
‘What did the big dog say to the little dog?’
‘I don’t know, what did the big dog say to the little dog?’ The audience waited in anticipation and Rob’s parents started winding the disposable camera up ready to take a picture.
‘FUCK OFF!’
‘Right, someone come and collect Robert from the stage please and wash his mouth out with soap and water.’
I wasn’t as nervous about telling my joke now. ‘Hi, I’m Scarlett Moffatt, I live in County Durham and I want to be a bus driver when I’m older, but only the double-decker ones.’ I was actually obsessed with wanting to be a bus driver, which is ironic as I’ve taken my driving test four times now and have failed every time. I once failed because I stopped that close to a school bus we had to wait ten minutes for all the kids to get on the bus because I couldn’t go around it.
‘And can you tell us your funniest joke, Charlotte?’
‘It’s Scarlett!’ I always get called Charlotte even though it’s not my name at all. It’s like calling someone Shaniqua when their name is Siân.
‘Two cannibals start eating a clown. One of the cannibals says to the other, “Does this taste funny to you?”’ I mean none of the kids laughed but the host loved it.
‘Good one, Charlotte, can you tell us another?’ I was put on the spot and didn’t want to waste my thinking space on correcting him about my name. So I did what most kids do and just made up a joke.
‘What did the pirate say on his hundredth birthday? Aye Matey.’ And that was the joke that won my mam and dad two Sex on the Beaches. I don’t know how my dad kept it down to be honest, as he was drinking pint glasses of Baileys – well, the Spanish version which is called Willies. I think he was only drinking them so my mam had to ask for a large Willy every time she went to the bar.
Eventually the day arrived when my nanny and grandad were getting to our hotel. They were getting in at 7 p.m. that night so my mam and dad decided we should spend the day at the beach as nanny isn’t keen on beaches (she says they’re too sandy). After eating my own bodyweight in cakes and random meats from the breakfast buffet we decided to head to the beach. The hotel staff were so cute and gave us packed lunches to take with us (not to be confused with a lunch box, which is a noun meaning a container used to help fruit get out of the house for the day and return safely for the afternoon). No, this was a brown paper bag containing a ham-and-cheese baguette, packet of crisps and a bottle of tepid water.
There was a huge bouncy castle on the beach. ‘Dad, please can I go on it? It’s only five potato peasant things.’
‘Aye, go on then.’
Now we should have noticed it was mostly Spanish kids on the castle, Spanish kids who had the sense to have socks on. I was crying through the fun, the plastic was that hot. I ended up blistering my feet and couldn’t even wear jelly shoes without wincing. So after that I just lay on my sun lounger in the shade looking after my Tamagotchi.
My dad went off
