I went on a once-in-a-lifetime holiday...
... never again.

Courtesy of Tim Vine.
( bierbelly, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 13:58, 2 replies)

My dad grew up in Kenya.
This was back when it belonged to good old England! He told me they had four servants working for them. A driver, a cook, a butler and gardener. Apparently this was fairly normal then. Times were tough for us when I grew up in South Africa. We only had one maid working for us.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 13:46, 2 replies)

Valentines day
Around 1995 I celebrated valentines day with my fragrant then-girlfriend at an Indian restaurant in Leyton. "You won't overeat will you, Browser?" she said to her then boyfriend, who was beginning to look like Falstaff.

"Certainly not!" I replied with a wink, anticipating a good two or three minutes of intercourse some time later that night.
The restaurant was full of bored couples sitting in silence. My partner ordered a chicken curry and rice.
I ordered a "non vegetarian Leyton Thali special, and two extra naan breads". When it arrived it consisted of about 14 different curries, an array of samosas and breads, condiments and other tidbits. It was bad enough that my dinner had to be brought on its own trolley, covering 4 shelves, and that this trolley was pulled over to our table by four waiters, but what really set off was the lit sparkler sticking out of the pile of naans, and the fact that before the waiters left me to get on with it, they smiled and clapped.

Needless to say, I had the last laugh as I ate the lot, had an icecream on the way home, and farted myself into a blissful sexless curry sleep.

Now let me read about the boy who ate too many chips and cried. And also, could someone please post the picture of the balcony and the croissant in the replies, cos I can't find it. x
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 13:32, 5 replies)

I was king of all egypt for about 40 minutes
sort of
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 13:03, 2 replies)

When drinking my whisky
I only use ice that comes from the Sea of Tranquility.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 12:57, 12 replies)

In a Physics lecture years back
I once experimented with tactile and chemical stress exerted upon a biological encasing, or "Fuck me, he's managed an entire packet of XXXX mints in one go there" as one of the others in the lecture labelled it.

They took an hour or so to fully dissolve and consume. I could still smell them a week later.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 12:56, Reply)

Travel writing...
It's the duck's nuts.
Best job so far:
Business class flight to Hong Kong, picked up at the airport by a chaffeur driving a Rolls Royce, taken back to the city with a brief stop on a bridge to drink champagne and watch the fireworks competition, then on to The Peninsula and into a Superior Room (huge suite, views over Hong Kong Harbour, quite incredible, google it), butler hangs up my clothes while I freshen up, cocktails in the bar where the manager says "how about this view!" as a helicopter appears in front of the window... so we're led up to the helipad and given a tour over the city (saw Jackie Chan's House!) then back to dinner in the kitchen (it's THE most exclusive place to eat there), back for a few drinks then to sleep in a bed about the size of my living room at home.
The next day was even more surreal, then the third day, fly home.
Travel has never been quite the same since.
S
( difficultchild, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 12:53, 2 replies)

Splendid!
When I was a young uni student I held a job in a restuarant. New Year's Eve we were stuffed to the gills with drunken revellers and the champers was a popular choice from the wine list. So much so that it was quite often the case that bottles would come back to the kitchen unfinished. Forbidden to drink the stuff we scullery rats did the next best thing: stockpiled the leftovers and used it to do the last of the washing up at the end of the evening.
( Udderbelly A tale of four titties, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 12:49, 1 reply)

Cough cough
I was in the middle of Oxford Street one Saturday afternoon, wearing nothing but a six foot LED covered top hat and sitting upon my luminous robot unicorn, when all of a sudden I caught tuberculosis...
(Mystery_Machine, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 12:43, 1 reply)

Benzo and Steve's Norway jollies.
The company i work for has developed some tools to allow a Norwegian oil company to add another gas pipeline to their platform, it's our job to ensure that they do this safely without flooding the platform and killing all 300 crew ( no pressure then!!). As Project Manager and Design Team Leader, Steve (for that is his name) and I have to spend 2 days a month in Stavanger or Bergen on the clients money. this usually entails flying over for a meeting the following day then flying home afterwards. this is what in fact tends to occur:
1) get the earliest flight over possible.
2) get to the hotel, dump our crap and start drinking.
3) ogle the pretty ladies
4) leave company credit card behind bar and make sure they keep bringing the guinness)
5) decide that food might be a good idea.
6) find the most expensive thing on the menu, combine with wine or stick to the beer. (£150 on tapas in Bergen, one of the best meals i've ever had)
7) find another pub, repeat 1 - 4
8) decide that beer isn't working, head to the hotel bar.
9) drink G&Ts until you realise that we have to pay attention in the meeting tomorrow.
10) sleep.

The client has stopped wondering why we always turn up to their HQ with raging hangovers and stinking of booze.

Project ends next week so no more jollies.
(Captain Benzo Panda fighting, live on tuesdays., Fri 29 Jul 2011, 12:38, 5 replies)

6 grammes
that is all.
(robneymcplum spiced up his life on, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 12:25, 11 replies)

Last night I dined out with Mrs V and friends.
I had langoustines, and dipped some of them in ketchup.

Yep.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 12:11, 7 replies)

This October, I shall be flying Upper Class to Tokyo, Japan.
The whole 10 day holiday will cost me approx. £4500, money which of course could be better spent on other things.

I don't care though as I want to treat myself at least once in my life to a kick ass holiday as I'm fed up with travelling economy everywhere.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 11:50, 11 replies)

Sardinia
Last year, I went down to join my Mum & step-father on one of their main holiday's. They have a boat down in the Med (Azimut 62' - she's stunning). They live on the boat for about 6-7 months a year and have a fantastic lifestyle down there (my step-father used to own a newspaper amongst other things - he's incredibly generous to my Mum & my family and we do some amazing things when we get to see them - I am honestly truly grateful for this).

Amongst other brilliant things that we did down in Corsica/Sardinia, we went to this place - www.caladivolpe.com/

My step-dad asked how much the main suite was per night and was told, in true J. Pierpont Morgan style, that if you needed to ask the question, you couldn't afford it. He pointed out to the bay and stated "You see that boat there?" - at which point he pointed to his boat, which just happened to be in front of a 300ft Mega-Yacht - "that's mine. Now how much is that room?". The answer? €33,000. PER NIGHT.

That lunch still ranks as the best meal that I have ever eaten.
( Hunter Stockton was murdered by a bicycle wielding axolotl,.,.,.,., Fri 29 Jul 2011, 11:25, 1 reply)

Orient Express....
When I was young my parents (and me) were given a free trip on the Orient Express as a thank you. I don't remember too much about it, but I do still have a pervading feeling of being impressed to this day.
(repooc, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 11:25, 2 replies)

Lurve!
I've had a pretty unlucky couple of years consisting of illness, lack of work, having to decide whether I should spend my money on my rent or my food, family troubles and having to cope with all the stress and depression that comes with this.
But through this time I have had one thing that has kept me going because it is actually the best thing anyone could wish for, and that is a happy relationship.
In fact, it's not just a happy relationship but one that is so awesome that it takes a lot of effort not to shove my smugness in everyone else’s faces. We are so deeply in love that if it were to be represented as a picture it would make people throw up from the sheer power of it. We are so unbelievably happy together that when I hear other supposedly "happy" couples complaining about their loved ones, it makes me feel all warm inside that no one else is as content as we are.
I don't have a lot and this is why I've decided to rub my awesome love in your faces and say "ner" because you might have money and cars and fancy fur coats but I've got a soul mate.

So there.
( Mellicious is made of candy, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 11:18, 11 replies)

Travelling through the outback some years ago I accidentally smashed one half of my spectacles into shards of worthless nothingness. Complete bummer as I am quite blind without them and driving was very difficult and tiring, even with one side well sighted. I managed to make it to a small dusty town, but alas, and not unexpectedly, there was no optician. I got lucky though as someone in the pub pointed me towards a jeweller. Fortunately he was able to fashion some new glass using finely ground locally obtained precious stones. Amazing results! Cost a fortune mind you. Proper opal-lens.
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 11:17, 1 reply)

Not necessarily ostentatious, but definitely classy.
Whilst stationed in Paris after the war, my dad dated Josephine Baker.

Frankly, I don't think I will ever cap that.
(davywavy, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 10:56, 7 replies)

Staying in an outrageously expensive hotel for the first time in my life.
My girlfriend went out shopping, and got back to find me wallowing in the spa bath topped by more than a foot of bubbles, reading The Economist, whilst smoking a cigar and wearing a monocle*.

She looked at me with disbelief.
"What the hell are you doing?", she asked.
"This is what capitalism is all about", I replied.

^{*This is completely true.}
(davywavy, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 10:53, 8 replies)

Sinking, drinking and swimming in the pink...
Not me, but my father.

Many moons ago, my father used to be fairly senior in the Banking world. When I say fairly senior, he ended up as the General Manager of an Offshore Private Bank - for those of you who don't know, that's essentially an old-fashioned Bank Manager, i.e. the chappie in charge of the particular branch.

As such, he often found himself being invited to many corporate shindigs. I work in finance now and pride myself on being invited to a whole host of different CorpHosp events and chugging my way through a decent amount of champagne and canape's, however back in the day when real expense accounts were prevalent, the realities were a little different.

Dad ended up being invited to Royal Ascot in the late 70's with a couple of other senior bods from the bank. Jersey tended to be a little different from the rest of the corporate world back then - housing regulations were very tight (and still are) which meant that there was a lot of rapid promotion from within - Dad was in his mid-30's and very much up for a laugh. For laugh, read drink.

As is normal at Ascot, everyone went the whole nine yards. Morning suits for the gents, big hats for the ladies. Dad was, and indeed is, 6'5", so with full tails and top-hat, he cut a rather dashing figure.

He was attending with one of his best friends and they, unsurprisingly, ended up with a few drinks inside of them. When the time came for the last race of the afternoon, neither of them were particularly interested in it, far more interesting was the free bar with rather pretty barmaids (he was at this time between marriages).

One thing led to another, and he and his friend ended up calling a taxi to take them back to the hotel with a couple of the afore-mentioned buxom wenches. Also accompanying them was - literally - as much pink champagne as four people could carry. I have mentioned that my father is not a small person - he can carry a prodigious load at the worst of times - when it comes to carrying alcohol (especially pink, bubbly alcohol), Sampson would have been put to shame.

They had already drunk as much champagne as they could manage before leaving, but free champagne is far too hard to resist. They ended up back in their hotel suite wondering what to do with a huge amount of bubbly, so they did the only sensible thing possible.

This is how my father, the legend that is my father, ended up sitting in a spa-bath in his hotel suite with one of his best friends and two newly acquired fillies from Ascot BATHING IN PINK FREAKING CHAMPAGNE.

If that's not wallowing in luxury, I have no idea what is.
( Hunter Stockton was murdered by a bicycle wielding axolotl,.,.,.,., Fri 29 Jul 2011, 10:53, 2 replies)

Champage
For our honeymoon seven years ago, Mrs ScousersPet and I went to the Syechelles for a couple of weeks, then had a couple of days in Dubai on the way back.

As a wedding present, a friend of ours upgraded our room in Dubai to "Club Executive" for us. The room had floor to ceiling windows, through which we enjoyed watching the sun set over the Persian Gulf.

One of the (many) benefits of having a Club Executive room was access to the Club Executive lounge, which served free drinks between 4 and 7 every day.

First day we were there, we wandered into the lounge and immediately stood out, being a couple of slightly rough around the edges Scousers in a lounge full of flash executive types. The nice waiter asked us if we would like a drink. Now, I am used to free drinks promotions that are basically limited to "the watered down Fosters or the Vodka we make in the bath upstairs" but really, really didn't want to say "what's free?". The waiter saw this awkward hesitiation and said "Most people are drinking champagne, sir"

So two champagnes were ordered. And it was the finest champagne I've ever had. Not only was it very easy to drink, the serving staff never let your glass get less than 3/4 full. As soon as you had a sip, they'd top it up for you.

Do you have any idea how much free, yet very expensive chammpagne you can drink in three hours? Lots, that's how much. great big bucketfuls of the stuff. I could hardly walk out of the place by the end of it.

The bit that was a bit too far was when they came around to toip[ up our nearly full glasses and said "We've run out of Bollinger and have sent down to the cellars to get more, will Moet suffice?" (I'm not sure of the actual brands, but you get the gist). When we said it would, they took away our nearly full glasses and replaced them wwith new, full ones - throwing out the stuff we had been drinking.

The next day, I had a quick look at the drinks menu and the cheapest glass of champagne they did was £30. I reckon the waiter chucked out about £100 worth of champagne so as not to mix two different wines.
(ScousersPet, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 10:32, 2 replies)

Croissants! Thousands of 'em!

I got offered a job this week, that comes with a pay rise that equals what many full time workers earn as a living wage. And I already earn enough to live a perfectly comfortable life. Yesterday morning I lay in bed considering buying a second house….a second fucking house for fucks sake...or perhaps a small aircraft.

If anyone has a better idea for the cash feel free to chip in with ideas.

*smug mode on*
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Fri 29 Jul 2011, 10:30, 26 replies)

Buying
a brand new Suzuki GSF600 over the phone and paying for it on my debit card.

Also buying a Caterham Roadsport SV with a debit card.

Not having to take a loan out for either.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 10:26, 3 replies)

King of the castle...
Me and a bunch of colleagues once had dinner at Castello Sforzesco in the centre of Milan - which in case you're unaware is a big fuck off castle.

Before we were allowed in, we had to stand in the courtyard while a traditional Milanese marching band welcomed us with some kind of flag waving serenade, then once we were inside they'd hired actors who danced about playing the lute and such while we got hammered and ate a six course meal.

I ended up sitting on the steps of the 5 star hotel we'd had booked for us by our host - a German bank, later that night, with the entire contents of my mini bar.

On the whole I thought that entire evening was quite ostentatious.
(sparagus14, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 10:11, 1 reply)

No luxury is quite so splendid as drinking a nice bottle of wine whilst reading a book in the bath.
Especially if you're flatmate's hammering on the door.
(universalpsykopath loves what you've done with your hair., Fri 29 Jul 2011, 9:35, 3 replies)

I light my cigars using a burning £50 note that I've lit from a burning £20 note that I've lit from a burning £10 that I've lit from setting light to a £5.
And I don't even smoke.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 9:31, 5 replies)

Following on from my London story
www.b3ta.com/questions/consumption/post1298833

The feeling like a fraud thing seems to follow me around. Im from a little town south of the tyne and always had a not really poor but never posh upbringing. I dont know if its a northern thing to cling on to your working-classness but i find that as i climb the social ladder my brain is still in my feet several rungs down.

Went to Newcastle races' Ladies Day last weekend. My missus paid £50 for the premier tickets and we got all smarted up, her in a lovely new dress and me in a brand spanking M&S suit. I always feel slightly strange in a suit, as im used to working in an engine room at 30-odd degrees in a sweaty boilersuit and covered in grime. Even after working in an office for 4 years I cant shake the feeling that im in the wrong attire.

Anyways my mam and dad were also there, but they were in the £250/head all you can eat seats. They managed to wangle us a couple of passes so we met them outside and joined them for a few free drinks. It was so sterile and nothing like the crazy, elbow to elbow madness we'd left behind.

Once again I had the feeling I stood out like a sore thumb and at any point security would escort me back to the herd. After the races finished we went back through to the corporate area and a huge fight booted off and some pissed southern (only knew cos of the accent) twat was carried off, his face a bloody mess. Apparently he'd been mouthing off all afternoon and i guess someone finally snapped.

Seemed a little strange that I only saw trouble in the fancy seats
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 9:27, 2 replies)

I remember after sleeping rough for about a year ( posted about on a previous QOTW) the great thing was when i got back into normal living again even the most simple things felt like ostentatious luxury. I can't describe the feeling of waking up in warm bed or just enjoying a cup of tea in a quiet room during those first few days.

there's a line from a JP Donleavy book ("the lady who liked clean restrooms" I think ) which has always stuck in my head and it's a scene where the titular heroine is just sitting in a cafe sipping a coffee and she thinks how perfect life would be if she could just take pleasure and be content with the simple things in life. How bloody true. And if anybody manages this buddha like state could you please teach me how to do it
( Clay hopes this bit is long enough to promote my websi, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 8:24, 6 replies)

11 Dinners
About twice a year my company calls all of the field staff in for a conference somewhere in the Midlands. As that is quite a distance for most of us hotels are always arranged for the night before. These are usually Travel Inn types with Brewers Fayre attached.

As part of the deal the company pays an extra £25 for each person to the hotel and they provide us with a £25 voucher to use in the attached restaurant and bar.

About a year ago I arrived quite late to the hotel and the reception told me that my colleagues hadn't bothered taking the vouchers because they had headed into town instead. That left me with £275 to spend on my own on dinner.

£275 goes a long way in these places where the top menu item is less than £15. The place was pretty empty and I like to think I gave the waitress some entertainment ordering a mountain of food - every starter they did, 3 types of steak, mixed grills, pies, fish and chips and half a dozen puddings. On top of this a pint of lager, biter, stout and cider. Red wine, White wine and a few obscure spirits I hadn't ever tasted before.

I didn't really manage to eat much and spent less than £200 in the end

I still think about those poor starving children in Africa.
(zaidin, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 8:20, 1 reply)

Picture the scene..
Belfast Castle, I'm sitting in a velvet high backed chair beside a big roaring log fire in a wood panelled room watching the snow fall outside sipping a pint. Absolute bliss.

Back to reality and I'm only there as we are waiting to start a gig in the ballroom. I'm dressed in jeans and a t-shirt but for a few moments in my mind I was king of that castle.
( oldpoint is up in space doing important work for NASA., Fri 29 Jul 2011, 2:11, Reply)