There’s no two ways about it. It’s a bloody box, a very basic bloody box, no more than 12 x 8. There’s no bath, no electric or mains gas, or even a toilet. So how the fuck can someone validate charging over 25 grand for one? Moreover, what prat would shell out that amount of cash for a nesting box for an ostrich!
A hundred and fifty years ago they were called bathing machines and were on wheels. Well the overly rich had them, the riff raff just had to look on from a safe distance, usually the next resort! When a doctor came up with the idea of a freezing cold dip in saltwater, as a ‘cure-all’ remedy for everything, even amputation, the Royal family started to get interested in this newest of inventions.
No one had used the beaches on the coasts of Britain, accept sailors and smugglers, that was until George the III gave his approval in 1789. There are no records to prove whose idea it was for the bathers to take a dip fully clothed. In the 1790’s the stiff upper-lipped were keen to have mixed bathing, dirty devils! As usual the upper crust rich Brits were lagging behind Europe and America in this department, as they had been doing it for years, dirty, dirty devils! Then it was deemed that the English could have such rights, the ladies would bathe on Mondays and the gents on the Wednesday, but on the same beach!
Scarborough was the first resort were the promenade was decked with rabbit hutches. And Queen Victoria had her own personal bathing machine in Osborne, on the Isle of Wight. A horse would pull the machine down to the sea were she could splash about to her hearts content. The only problem with this arrangement was, that most of the horses drowned as a result of being shackled to the front of the contraption. Breathing apparatus for horses sadly never caught on.
It was in the 50’s that the humble beach hut really took off. The wheels were removed and you could buy or hire your very own badly painted wooden box. Now, the cost of rental or purchase all depends on where your hut is sited. And it is still very much a class divide issue. Take Frinton for example, the retirement capital of England. It shuts at 6:30pm, there are no pubs or night clubs, but there are plethora of hotels, if two constitutes a plethora! And bloody and, let’s not forget the only wine bar for miles. (also shuts at 6:30pm)
Anyway, let’s have a shufty at the comparison in prices between two resorts. In Frinton you can pay anything between 15 and30 thousand for a sand box. Peak hiring cost: £350 per week. Off peak: £349.53 per week. Entertainment: watching the grass grow, chasing a pickle around your plate, and saying, “Oh bollocks, my colostomy bag is full.” Toilets, 250 metres away.
Now let’s take a look at a cheaper model in Shiteminster-on-the-bog. The materials are just the same and so is the size. Peaking hiring cost: four bob. Off peak: a tanner. Entertainment: nicking the lead off the posh huts, Tasering the kids, and saying, “Jesus, I could do with shit.” Toilets next resort along, near the minefield.
Press release from Frinton hire and buy agent: Forget cocktails in the Caribbean, and sailing in the south of France, it’s difficult to beat Frinton for a traditional seaside holiday! Have you ever heard such a crock of horseshit!
Press release from Filthmuck-on-sea agent: Forget having a slash in the lift at home, or shooting-up in a stairwell, come to Filthmuck-on-sea and do it in the sea! Well at least it’s an honest approach!
Right I’m off, my toilet duck has drowned and I’m thinking of dreding my pubes… BB
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