The Minotaur's First Abroad Holiday For A Decade

So, it's been a long time since I've had a break. Over a decade since I left the shores of old Blighty.

I'd wasted eight of those ten years being a carer for someone who tried to murder me, so I thought it was time for a holiday.

I know my ten readers cannot wait any longer to hear from me. (Apologies for the delay)

I chose to visit Gran Canaria with my favourite fellow demon Amon. As you know, while the world destroys itself (26 years to go dear boys) we intend to travel and try new random things. All the experiences we forsook when we were trying to convince humanity to be decent are now ours to explore.

So let's go through some of my holiday snaps and memories

My holiday hat discretely hides my horns. The sun has brought out my burnished shiny face. My legs are still holding the Dulux "elephant tusk" hue that allows me to walk by the light of the moon alone. They refuse (and have done for centuries) to cowtow to the foreign warmth of a Mediterranean sun.

There really is a LOT of cacti in Gran Canaria. To some extent, once you've seen one you've seen them all. That didn't stop me from subjecting myself and Amon to not one, but TWO cactus based parks. I like that some look like the alien pod I arrived in, while many others are unapologetically phallic. There were even whole trees that appeared to be built from cacti. A tremendous feat from the cacti designer. You really don't want to trip in one of these parks, and I would highly recommend sensible shoes with a rugged soul.

A frickin cactus tree! Bravo

A sign from the park reminding you that life is No Picnic.

Amon (who in 5000 years has never passed his driving test, but had a hand in the invention of the wheel) convinced me to hire a car. After fifteen minutes of admiring the wonderful well maintained roads of Gran Canaria, I found myself in the fucking mountains! There was no turning back, so despite the persistent terror of being ABOVE the clouds, I went with it. I'm looking forward to embracing death anyway, so why not dice with the possibility behind the wheel of a white VW polo with Coast FM on?

We found our way to the highest point, and on the way, passed through some sites that were sacred to the old indigenous tribes of Gran Canaria. This rock (Roque Nublo) was almost 2000 metres above sea level. Ejected from a volcano 4 million years ago, it stands majestically in the clouds.

The whole area is a protected reserve, and considered a spiritual home for the island. I placed my hands on the rocks surrounding me, and asked the earth to heal my broken soul. Next to me stood a young Spanish couple who took in the astounding beauty by requesting selfies with Roque Nublo behind them; the young man squeezing his nubile young partner's arse in every shot. Amon obliged with their Apple Mega 69 pro phone, smirking all the while. THIS IS WHY YOU ALL HAVE TO DIE.

I met a donkey. I was so excited, I really do love a fine ass. I should have taken heed of the sign as he immediately took hold of a section of my fat belly and bit down. There was some blood. I didn't take offense, I felt his loneliness, and was sure he just wanted me to remain near. The resulting bite mark looked just like a koala face when it scabbed up. I wish I'd taken a photo of that for you. I named the donkey Terry, as I've often found Terry's to be unexpectedly bitey.

While we're discussing the island's animals, you'll be keen to hear that I stroked three Spanish cats, one bulldog and observed (as above) that Gran Canaria has its own brand of pigeon. A slightly smaller model than I'm used to, and as you can see they sport a tiny pair of Dr Dre Beats headphones around their taupe necks. One of these (Kim) visited me every morning on my balcony, and I was happy to share a Biscoff with him each sunrise.

What a dusky prince. (Shared some jamon from a croissant 🥐 with this baby) I ate a hell of a lot of jamon.

Amon and I (not pictured) went to one of the world's largest aquariums. The huge tank was a sight to behold, and just like Brighton's aquarium, Poema del Mar Aquarium held a specimen of my favourite crustacean... it's the Sexy Shrimp

Yes that is its official title. Thor amboinensis in Latin, but Thor the Sexy Shrimp to you.

I saw some wonderful Canarian dancing, consistently ate too much at the breakfast buffet and visited a town called Teror which had some notable pine balconies on the buildings. Balconies that they seemed extremely proud of. Much more notable was the honey rum (bee rum is a great name for a comedy night, I think you'll agree) called Guanche that we necked in a bar in Teror. Amon insisted we exceed the baggage limit weight on our flight back to ensure further sampling when we got home. Well worth the fine. Try it, bloomin' wonderful stuff.

My favourite tree on the island. It really reminded me of the creepy wizard paintings in the Grimms fairy tales books of my childhood. The tree sends down a hairy rope that becomes a solid new trunk once it has rooted. Just like every employer I've ever worked for, it has optimized every opportunity to bleed the surrounding environment dry. Extremely efficient, especially in a cost of living crisis/drought.

A calming video of a waterfall from the Botanical Garden Entrada Superior. A free and amazing park to visit. It momentarily quelled my ongoing panic disorder, I hope you enjoy the 30 seconds of blissful peace too.

Teror and its overly hyped balconies

Some further facts I found out while in Gran Canaria. As the English helped develop the island for trading purposes, there are three words that have infiltrated the Canarian language that aren't used in mainland Spain. All of which please my chef brain enormously:

The first being cake, which they pronounce "cakey" extremely cute. (Spelt queque)

Knife is said knife. Good if you need a cakey knife.

Finally potatoes are known as quinegua potatoes or chinegua potatoes. They arrived in the Canary Islands from England during the reign of King Edward VI. His name, in English, King Edward, has been phonetically placed on the tatos. Quin Eg Ua.

Love that, and who wouldn't want to have their moniker used in such a long standing fashion in the tuber world?

On a more depressing note, the English also put the first golf club (outside of Europe) on the island. I can only apologize that the most repulsive sport (with all its loud trousered bores twatting around a small ball) contaminated land that could be entertaining more cacti. Repulsive trivia.

This was the first of many trips we hope to take while we watch the world die.

One final photo for you, another thing I've not seen before, a totally black cock (the lucky bastards live wild in the mountains)

Till the next time,

The Minotaur (also known as Em)