A Kraut Too Far

You definitely have to be there - or here - to get the full humour of the British gent whose holiday holiday turned out to be so crammed with Germans that he sued - and won.

He *says* there was nothing Fawlty-esque about his reaction, but you only have to be alongside them at the pool or duelling trolleys in the supermarket or trying to order or enjoy a quiet drink ... and Basil leaps to the mind.

All my Greek pals hoot with lafter at this story which shows how long memories can be. When my Yorkshireman dad came out here 35 years ago, with his Viking looks from way back when his forebears popped over for a day's pillaging and liked it so much they stayed, he was asked less than tactfully if he was German, I suspect so the locals could gauge the low level of service to deliver. He was such a palpably truthful chap, and his classical Greek of such precision, they saw immediately he was a son of Albion and all was well.

Sixty years back, our visitors from over the Rhine bow weren't the best behaved - either on land or in the air - and attitudes still rankle, hence the twitch of the mouth at this story.

There's no excuse to be rude or racist, even at the worst of times, but since I continue in thrall to a certain lissome Germaniki, I feel ever so slightly "entitled" to share this story and make my tasteless cracks, particularly since I showed her the piece and got my arm soundly walloped and the iciest Wagnerian look from those gooseberry eyes ....