To Dougie and Freda Duckpond, Benidorm was like a second home. But after spending many happy holidays at the popular Spanish resort, they have now vowed never to return after strange events ruined their stay two months ago.
“Not a cat in hell's chance!” Dougie stormed. “No way will we cast our shadows upon its streets again!”
Dougie, and his slightly attractive wife Freda, had just booked into the Hotel Playa Vesta Curry, when they decided to go for a walk.
“We just wanted to get a bit of fresh air after the long walk from Rochdale. We got down as far as the promenade when suddenly we were both stricken down by thirst.
“We’d just ordered some drinks in a bar, when Freda suddenly screeched in horror.
“ ‘Look, you’re over there!’ ” she screamed, pointing over towards the pool table.
“And there I was! Proud as punch! Chalking up my cue!”
“What’s more, the pool-playing me was dressed exactly the same as the non pool-playing me, right down to the cheap blue flip-flops that I bought at a beach shop in Barnet last year.”
Panic set in. Dougie and Freda guzzled their drinks back and made their way towards the exit. “I glanced round before we went out. He was sort of almost staring me out but at the same time, I don’t think he knew I was really there.”
After a five-day drinking binge in various bars, Dougie and Freda decided to go back to the hotel and unpack.
Was it a case of mistaken identity? “No chance!” insisted Dougie. “It was most definitely me."
Stop 'pull quotes' and let the story speak for itself.
“I had my head removed for a short time in a routine operation a few years ago while they sorted out one or two things, and he had identical scars to me – all the way around his neck.”
Two days later, Dougie and Freda were just beginning to get over the ordeal, satisfied that lightning couldn’t strike twice in the same place.
“We’d even begun to laugh about it,” said Dougie. “After all, If you’re going to meet yourself, then why not on holiday?”
Then they were approached by a stranger outside the hotel entrance. “He asked me if we were looking to buy property in Benidorm,” said Dougie.
Before the Duckponds realised what was happening, they’d been sold an expensive luxury apartment.
“And that’s when it hit us,” Dougie said. Minds clouded by drink, and possibly drugs, Dougie and Freda had failed to recognise that the apartment vendor was no other than Dougie himself.
“I just wanted to go home then,” he said tearfully. “I don’t earn the kind of money to pay for foreign apartments, even if I am doing them at a special knockdown price for myself.
“Who knows how many of me are lurking around over there, It’s really scary! I just want us to forget about the whole thing now and concentrate on getting the kitchen finished.”