It recently came to my attention that the cobweb-matted body which is the UK's Foreign Office, those pillars of Stiff-Upper Lip Colonialism inherent in all public school Old Boys, has decided to vamp up its image somewhat and 'go all the rage' as my ancient mother would say.
To this end, it has hired Charlotte Meares, fiancée of Jermain Defoe, (no, I have no bloody idea who they are either, but he kicks a ball about on a swathe of grass, I think, so she's obviously somebody of superior wit and intelligence) to write the WAG's Travel Guide.
We are treated to such ground-breaking advice as:
Insure those Choos:
An absolute must is travel insurance - one tumble off a bar table in your Jimmy Choos without insurance could cost you £20,000 worth of shopping money on your hospital bill! And whether you’ve got five Louis Vuitton cases full of designer gear or a beaten up bag full of Primark, you’ll want to know that if anything gets lost or stolen you will be covered.
My God! I hadn't thought of that. Maybe I could just NOT climb onto bar tables and use a chair to sit on, like most civilised people. And why couldn't I have five Louis Vuitton cases full of Primark gear? That's just labellist.
Know Before You Go!
It might sound trivial [No, it doesn't, Charlotte, honestly...] but you never know when you might break a nail or your extensions turn green in the pool. To stay looking your best even if you are not taking a personal stylist with you, get a number of good local beauticians or check if the hotel has one before you go!
My Personal Stylist can't accompany me on my next jaunt to Clacton-on-Sea as she is studying for her Advanced Brick-Laying NVQ 3, so I shall have to ensure that I have plenty of Polyfilla in case my false teeth fall out into my port & lemon. Anyway, in my experience, it's always my nails that turn green and my extensions break in the pool...
But the best...
Another WAG technique for looking cool and ‘in the know’ is to arrive at your destination wearing something the locals would but with a unique twist - think Henna’d hands in India
I could really imagine the WAGs pitching up to Saudi Arabia wearing the burkah and abayah. This daft bint would probably stitch her fianceés name on the back in sequins for that 'unique twist' à la footie strip. If she heads off to Ethipoia, do you think she might insert a tribal disc into her bottom lip? It might serve to shut her up...
Why did the Foreign Office decide that their travel advice needed both sexing-up and dumbing down? What did we do to deserve this little gem? Travelling is immense fun, but I really don't need to be treated like a retard to prepare for it. As long as I've got clean undies, my passport and my jabs are up to date, do I really need to ensure that my beauty essentials are packed into a clear plastic bag? My one and only 'beauty essential' is a nicotine patch, stuck firmly over my mouth to stop the cravings and to shut me up.
Anybody who takes this Travel Guide seriously deserves to spend a week teaching the finer grammatical rules of Mandarin Chinese to Paris Hilton.
Photos courtesy of iPods Around the World and Chris Beetles