We thought we’d watch a bit of TV whilst having dinner. It was Holiday Swap that lasted about 45 seconds before I had to turn it off in complete disgust.
The family are in a people carrier driving through a Tenerife resort, on their way to meet their host family. The Mum smiles and shakes her head knowingly, “This is my idea of a complete nightmare, it’s like Benidorm, and I haven’t even been there!?”. The son, messy and cool in his skater gear sneers and mentions that they’re probably chavs.
Home counties. Moss on the roof. Stickers in the back of the Volvo.
What did they expect when taking part in a show called Holiday Swap? Their trekking holiday in the bloody Tuscan foothills, or wherever, being swapped for the olive pressing festival in Catalonia?
The forkful of Mandy’s finest Spag Bol doesn’t make it to my mouth, I don’t want to watch but can’t help myself with disbelief.
They meet their host family at the £110 a night hotel and decline to drink at the bar, choosing instead to skulk off to their room. Here the youngest son talks to the camera, “Omigod! Like when I saw that Burberry cap, I was like?”
This is perhaps the saddest part of the whole debacle, adult condescension filtering its way down to the children. It’s too late.
This is travel snobbery at its very worst, cultured mums and scruffy skater kids openly sneering at the choice of others. They may be wealthy and well educated, but that doesn’t cover up for the fact that they are basically a horrible family.
I don’t know why I let things like this get to me!