An Italian Adventure – Part One

My friend Merryn and I decided we needed a holiday – we’d heard fantastic things about Sicily (so I accidentally booked flights to Brindisi).


The flights were booked for 5am Monday. We decided it was best to stay awake the night before (drink two bottles of prosecco whilst destroying some avocado bacon sandwiches) we were far too excited for sleep (so excited I momentarily forgot – “ Merryn, I’m allergic to avocado”). So we chatted and giggled (had a panic attack as my face swelled), continued with our packing (throwing clothes out of the suitcase in search of the Piriton) and were soon ready (“I’ve taken five – is that too many?”) just as the taxi arrived (“FIVE?! I said take one”) – we made our way to the airport.

(“Merryn, am I going to die?”).


We reached the airport, checked in, went through security (pointed at a woman who was being searched and said too loudly “that woman must be covered in bombs”) and had a quick coffee and a little coconut snack (“think I might be allergic to coconut” – “Oh, for goodness sake Debbie, put it down”).

We arrived at Brindisi airport a little tired (and completely embarrassed – I’d forced Merryn to wear my Dangerous Debbie t-shirt which said “I had sex on the kitchen work top and instead of an apology I left a used condom”). We picked up the rental car, chose against paying for insurance (“Merryn, I’ll be fine – it’s a waste of money”) and I drove us to our apartment. (Petrified – driving on the wrong side of everything, up one way streets – screaming as I smashed the wing mirror off another car; “Debbie drive, just drive – stop crying”).

We reached the apartment – it was perfect (for the Hobbits of Middle Earth).


The first evening we popped out for a quick snack and checked out the town – we didn’t realise how religious the place was (Merryn, peering over at my protruding nipples “Who cares I’m on holiday!” – “Debbie you never wear a bra – cover them up”).

We had some food and a few glasses of red wine before retreating back to the apartment (and continued to be offensive to the towns religion).


The following morning we awoke – ready for our first official day of holiday. I waved my hands in the air like I just didn’t care (SMASH) Merryn turned (“what the hell was that”) and I turned (bottle of red wine smashed all up the wall – all over the floor), Merryn immediately attempted and failed to clear up the mess (as I sobbed about how difficult it was being me).

I continued to be a bit difficult throughout the trip (the most useless holiday companion ever). Every time a decision needed to be made (“where should we go today”) my immediate response was “I don’t mind” (/I don’t know, I have done no research for this holiday, hence why we are here and not in Sicily). I did make one suggestion (which ended up being a hotel that sounded like a beach) and if things (items of Merryn’s clothing) became lost I was equally as useless (saying “I ate it”, instead of looking for her tops that I’d definitely hidden in my suitcase).

I found it hard chatting with the Italians, I was very aware they spoke little English (so I decided to act out words). Merryn found this a little taxing, especially when she was talking to parking attendants on whether it was ok to park in disabled spaces (whilst I zoomed behind in my invisible wheelchair).

When it came to making new friends Merryn did her best to chat to the locals in broken English – (I yelled ‘POLICIA’ at a small boy when he pointed at me and said “she not pretty”).

I made one new friend.


We (Merryn) became chatty with a man called Arthur (I said “sorry, I’m really awkward” and continued to sit in silence) he invited us to attend the closing party of a top nightclub. Arthur wasn’t exactly the Italian David Ghandi we had hoped for (instead a 40 year old man who knew Peter Stringfellow). So when we arrived at the club with our new crew (Arthur and his lawyer) we looked a bit odd (we looked like hookers).

We had a fantastic time (and definitely played up to our new roles) dancing in the VIP section (champagne being poured into our mouths, snogging all the men who were on a stag party – and probably trying it on with the stag). By the end of the evening we were very drunk (yelling ‘Party girl Debs’ and posing – for no cameras – you are not a very important person).

At 4am Merryn got handed the bill from Arthur “we go halves yes?” (2500 Euros) she found me downstairs talking (acting out words) to the stag of the party (stealing his engagement ring – explaining how many marriages end in divorce) she immediately took me to one side.

We decided the best way to approach this was to behave like mature adults and say we couldn’t afford it (“Merryn – RUN”).




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