Horace: I hate listening to people complain! There are those that just start complaining about trivial matters and keep it up. And it feels like the whine goes on and on and on.
Sine: And on.
Why am I always late? Why can’t I stay on schedule? When will I learn? Why me? … I think it’s because the plane is still in Iceland, because it had to turn back, trying to take a party of Swedes to Yugoslavia. Of course it loads you up there at 3 a.m. in the morning. And then you sit on the tarmac for four hours because of unforeseen difficulties, i.e. the permanent strike of air traffic control over Paris. When you finally get to Malaga airport, everybody’s queueing for the bloody toilet, and queueing for the bloody half-customs officers, and queueing for the bloody bus that isn’t there, waiting to take you to the hotel that hasn’t yet been built. When you finally get to the half-built Algerian ruin called the Hotel Limassol, while paying half the holiday money to a license Spaniard in a taxi, there’s no water in the pool, there’s no water in the bath, there’s no water in the tap, there’s only a bleeding lizard in the bidet, and half the rooms are doublebooked, and you can’t sleep anyway, ’cause the permanent are in the jungles in the hotel next door. Meanwhile, the Spanish National Tourist Board promises that the raging cholera epidemic is merely a mild outbreak of the Spanish Conleigh, rather like the previous outbreak in 1616, even the bloody rats are dying from it(From Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl)
July 31, 2015