They say that going on a cruise broadens the mind – who are they? I hear you ask - well I don’t rightly know; I suppose it’s the people who say these things. Anyway. A cruise was decided upon. But where to go? What ship? Will I need a Mae West? Will I see Mermaids or be bullied by defecating Swedish seagulls? So it was decided. A Mediterranean cruise. Foreign sunny climes. Foreign food. Foreign people. But hang on a minute; if I’m in a foreign land then surely stands to reason - I’d be the foreigner. Well wouldn’t I? See the wisdom of my reasoning? So having packed all that was to be packed in a couple of suitcases, a couple of shoulder bags and a container of my favourite Jam Roly-Poly. Well you never know about these far-off lands, they may not have Jam Roly-Poly; May have their own version of Jam Roly-Poly. Jam Roly-Poly Spaghetti or Jam Roly-Poly noodles. Never take chances that’s my motto.

So we flew from Newcastle Airport – here I must say something. What’s with these money grabbing leeches who run these airports? Damn it man; they even charge if you want to drop somebody off! Some have barriers that lift only when you drop a in a pound coin. What about an IOU? Hey you creeps, do you accept IOU’s? Some; may allow 3 seconds free but woe betide you if you go over. Smirking jobsworths pounce on you; grinning sneaky creeps either checking time and car numbers on their monitors or hide behind a cloud of Halitosis, ready to pounce; “Excuse me Sir did you know you have to pay to drop someone off here?” “But I was only a minute; I had to drop off my sick auntie; she’s going to the US for treatment and her wheel chair proved a bit difficult.” “Sorry Sir, the laws the law pay up now if not the penalty will be double, not only that but we’ll send the heavies round to confiscate all your furniture, the TV set, your wife’s jewelry and your dog’s false teeth.” What’s wrong with this country – truly Rip off Britain! And so we went through the airport check-ins. Once upon a time one could whizz through airport check-ins; show your passport containing a crisp tenner and a cheery bloke with dirty finger nails would wave you through and wish you a happy flight. NOW! it’s a flipping obstacle course! You take off most of your clothes and put them in a large tray along with your coins, keys; anything metal including one’s vibrator (No I don’t use them, but a middle aged priest in Spain asked me get him one. I swear it’s true!) And not content with having you strip almost naked; the men have to remove belts. For crying out aloud what do they think we’re going to do? Once through the check-ins – use our belts to hang ourselves rather than fly Ryan Air? Oh’ I don’t know though. You listening Mr. Bleary O’Leary? Now I need my belt to keep my pants up. There I am, belt in one hand and in the other, the top of me bleedin’ pants! But I got through unscathed and my dignity intact, But I ponder one thing - isn’t this a tad bit sexist. If we blokes have to remove our belts what about the women? Well? Isn’t that something to ponder over? So I propose a compromise – women have to remove the elastic from their knickers! Now that’s Men’s Liberation!

So ladies, knicker elastic in one hand and the other under the skirts holding up your unmentionables (no good I’ve mentioned them already). Read more