British Seaside – Bank Holiday Bingo

Lockdown, summer in the city. You’re missing the sea, sand and, sand in your sandwiches.

Play our BRITISH SEASIDE BANK HOLIDAY BINGO – how many of these have you encountered on your visits to the seaside?

Bank Holiday Bingo Card


After visiting all 55 pleasure piers in England and Wales in two weeks the coast holds a special place in our hearts, we dearly loved getting to relive some of our fondest memories of coach trips to weston, family day trips, and holidays making do in tatty B&Bs.

Our book is more than just an account of the trip, we really tried to explore this shared memory of the seaside, this plastic bucket Albion, the melted ice cream nirvana everyone has. Out of this we’ve pulled some — hopefully — shared experiences, we’d love to know how many you can relate to so don’t forget to share this yourself and tag us, tell us seaside stories, make us smile, because we could all use a bit of laugh right now.

Do you remember?

  • Someone bragging about winning £20 ‘on the machines’ even though they probably put at least £50 in.
  • Going to Llandudno. It was closed.
  • All the men lined up having a piss on the hard shoulder when the coach pulls over. Passing cars honking. 
  • A lottery ticket taped to a bit of card inside a 2p falls machine. 
  • Your mum bumping into someone from work on the front, spending ages talking to them and then bad-mouthing them as soon as you move on.
  • Being relegated to the boot and told to keep your head down on the motorway because your mum asked the neighbours’ kid to come.
  • Stopping at a service  station for ‘just a piss’ taking hours because one of your party has disappeared in the little WH Smith. 
  • Dad refusing to buy a  windbreak until you’re just about to leave. Then letting it rot in the shed unused at home and forgetting it next time. 
  • Drawing cocks in the sand.
  • Beach cricket. In the sea is a six, and out. 
  • Swimming in the sea pre-European Union  standards and smelling vaguely of shit for the rest of the day.
  • Sitting on the M5 outside Bristol for hours. 
  • Going back in to work at WC Boggs and Son toilet factory, after a strike, for the work’s coach outing. Canoodling with the colleague you’re having an affair with and then getting pissed and ending up riding go carts down the pier before going home. Yak yak yak, Sid.
  • Dad sunburn.
  • Dark side-street boozers, no-one but a couple of sozzled locals inside. A backyard heaving with holidaymakers served at a hatch and spending most of the time trapping wasps under beer glasses. 
  • A seafront music stall or shop that sells almost exclusively Frank Sinatra, Mario Lanza, and country music.
  • Digging a big fucking hole in the sand for absolutely no reason.
    Begging your mum to buy you a T-shirt with a rude version of the Mr. Men or a cap with Female Body Inspector on.
  • Being allowed to paddle with your trousers rolled up but a big wave soaking your trousers so you think ‘fuck it’ and play in the sea anyway.


Jon was voted the ‘14th Most Influential Person in the West Midlands’ in 2008. Subsequently he has not been placed. He’s been a football referee, venetian blind maker, cellar man, and a losing Labour council candidate: “No, no chance. A complete no-hoper” said a spoilt ballot. Jon wrote and directed the first ever piece of drama performed on Twitter when he persuaded a cast including MPs and journalists to give over their timelines to perform Twitpanto. But all that is behind him.