Al Fresco lunch. Travelling to a Greek island. The truth from Jeremy Clarkson
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It sounds idyllic: lunch with family and friends under a pergola outside the agreeable house you’ve rented on a Greek island.
But it isn’t idyllic at all, because there will be a wasp. And at least one of your party will be incapable of sitting there and ignoring it. Instead, they will leap to their feet and rush about as though they are under sustained machinegun fire.
Eventually, they will sit down again, and you will resume your amusing anecdote, but then another wasp will come along. And then another. A Greek-island summer holiday is nothing but a constant conveyor belt of wasps, an insect put on earth solely to make your picnic lunch less pleasant.
I can prove this. Last summer, I spent some time on a boat in the Greek islands. At one point, we were anchored half a mile from the shore, but as soon as the food was ready, a wasp arrived. He could have found his lunch on land. There was tons of it. But no. He’d travelled about 3,000 wasp miles over open water simply to ruin ours.
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There’s another problem with the bougainvillea-sprinkled Greek-island lunch. The Greeks grow vines, but they eat the leaves and throw away the fruit, choosing instead to make their wine out of creosote.
They have a similar issue with cheese. We make it from the milk of a cowess. But Spiro chooses to make it from the milk of sheep and goats. And then there’s cod. We eat it when it’s fully grown, but, over there, they eat it when it’s in an egg. All of which means your lunch is so horrid that your children will actually look forward to the arrival of the next wasp, because they can rush about screaming rather than eating it.