ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-SEVEN
The Flight of Chloe McMurderess cont.
Fuck, there’s a big black guy sitting outside my caravan.
My heart started pounding fit to burst out of my chest like that creature in ‘Alien’, I felt faint, nauseous and my legs were like rubber. Was he from the British police? Spanish police? To be honest, I’ve been expecting the fuckers to turn up at my door almost as soon as I got here.
I found I liked Benidorm, more than I expected to, to be honest. Not for the continuous drinking that some of my fellow compatriots indulge in, rather that most expats are generally just kind and friendly and helpful. They don’t want to know your business and I don’t want to know theirs. There is, however, a sort of camaraderie amongst the resident Brits, helping each other with informati
