Unlike many people, I can sort of understand the appeal of owning a timeshare. For those not minted or upper middle class enough to buy “a little place in France”, it’s the best chance they’ll ever get to boast that they have a “holiday home near Valencia” as they cross their fingers behind their back and visualise the Seventies flat over a Benidorm chippy which they are permitted to visit for one week a year. As keeping up with the Joneses goes, at least it beats crazy paving.
But a timeshare at Butlins? Doesn’t that rather negate the whole look-how-well-we’ve-done point? There’s no kudos in hanging out with Redcoats, no guarantee of a tan in blustery Minehead. But this month has indeed seen the launch of BlueSkies, Butlins’ first timeshare development and “the most stylish accommodation Butlins has ever offered the British holidaymaker”.
Now, despite many childhood holidays spent in chalets grubbier than a backpacker’s armpit, I’m fond of Butlins. I have always admired its unpretentiousness and unapologetic focus on giving people a laugh rather than worrying about looking cool.
But it seems that I am, like, so last century. British holiday camps have put gurning contests behind them; it’s all stripped floorboards, beauty spas and chichi bars now. Staff are even reportedly banned from using the word “chalet”. I must say, the BlueSkies apartments do look swish, with underfloor heating, 40in TVs and Malmaison-ish furnishings. Suites cost £6,000 for a 30-year lease and apparently half have already been snapped up.
But hold on a minute – 30 years? Are there really people who want to commit to the same Butlins holiday for three decades? That’s not a timeshare, it’s a life sentence. There’s a hubris about life expectancy in the whole timeshare concept, now I think about it. I daren’t book a holiday more than two months in advance lest I tempt fate, so how people can make assumptions about packing their sandals in 2037 defeats me.
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Granted, it works out at only £200 per year. But, let’s be frank, regular Butlins holidays hardly break the bank in the first place. You can get seven nights in July at the Minehead camp from £123 per person, with the first child going free. More importantly you will be entertained by Big Bingo, Superslam Wrestling and “X Factor runner-up Chico”. This is beginning to sound like heaven.
You see, there’s still a place in life for bonny babies, snorer of the week contests and camp comedians whose acts always end with them being thrown in the pool. Must everything now be aspirational and come with a cocktail?
If you want a Butlins holiday, my advice is to get the real thing. Face it: when you are tired of glamorous granny competitions, you are tired of life.