The real thing..... or not!

You know hoe you can instinctively tell when somebody is “the real Mc coy”? One of the other delightful Brit guests in the hotel, named “Surfs Up” by David, was one of those who just didn’t fall into that category.
This prick, his wife and kid sat holding court, in the loudest possible way, around the pool area every day. Nothing unusual in that except that, for his part, it was done in the most appalling fake Australian accent. To enhance his beach bum credentials he had the [badly] bleached hair and pony tail, surf board and guitar.
Now the Dominican Republic is not known to be one of the world hotspots for surfing [I checked]. So “Surfs Up” sitting waxing / cleaning his board all day while doing his “act” for the benefit of all the other pool users was a tad incongruous.
We didn’t spend much time around the pool area but had seen this when going back and forth to the bar from the beach. I hate sitting around pool areas for the reason that there is always somebody like this who manages to monopolise the whole set-up.
Anyway, after a couple of days of watching this I began to wonder why he never went anywhere with this damn surf board, like into the sea for instance….
Well, one afternoon, we had de-camped from the beach and were having a quick drink at the bar before going for a snooze when “Surfs Up” came running past us togged up in a wet-suit and with his surf board under his arm and hading for the beach.
Now I couldn’t believe that he was going off to surf in the same sea in which I’d been swimming not ten minutes before, the same sea that had been not unlike a millpond.
Well he was.
“This I must see” said Dave.
So he went and stood on the edge of the terrace and watched our very own David Hasselhoff trot off down the beach.
And trot he did. He headed down the beach about five or six hundred yards gradually slowing down to a gentle stroll [still carrying the surf board] and eventually sauntering up from the waters edge to sit, on the board, under the trees that fringed the beach.
Hoots of laughter from Dave.
Not that we had ever taken this guy seriously but of course, all credibility was now gone.
Later that evening while chatting somebody in the bar Dave mentioned this and we got a bit more info.
It turned out that “Surfs Up” was called Leslie and came from Leicester.
Well having watched Neighbours twice and had New Zealand lamb for dinner don’t turn you into an antipodean overnight….. or even at all, in some cases it seems.