‘THERE WASN’T much money around when I was little and holidays weren’t a priority. But sometime after my dad got laid off, I was sent on a holiday for deprived children at a youth hostel in Wales.

The Catholic Men’s Society did it and, bless them, they were well intentioned, but ... it were terrifying. The other kids were the hardest ne’er-do-wells you’ve ever come across. I thought I’d met hard lads before, but these were serious.

They set up a boxing match between this main skinhead, who was bullying everyone, and this little chubby Italian lad. And the Italian lad battered him.

The skinhead tried to give up, but the adults chucked him back in the ring for more, telling him, “You’re learning a life lesson here.” It wouldn’t be allowed now, would it?

My aunties used to go to Butlins religiously every year, and I remember going with them one year. My cousins used to cause chaos: there was a game where the kids would chase Captain Hook around, all good fun, but my cousins would hide in the bushes, jump out and properly mug him.

It was a fantastic holiday, though – there were girls, fights, freedom, and you could get into the 9-13 disco. I loved it.

My first holiday abroad was to Ibiza, when I was 19. I went with mates, but we were quite naive and ended up in a family hotel, so pickings were slim.

I was a mass of hypochondria back then. My mate got bitten by a dog on the first night, and later he shook my hand, and I got it into my head that I had rabies. So, everywhere I went, I carried a glass of water, to see if I was becoming afraid of it.

It weren’t quite the dream holiday.

Then I went to San Francisco, and loved the place. Went for two weeks, stayed for five. It’s amazing for people-watching, there’s such a variety of folk. I loved the bars, the coffee houses ... even the shops. It was the start of my metrosexuality, going there. They had clothes in my size – they go up to XXXXXL, and I’m thinking, “Great, I’m one of the slim ones, only a triple!”

I don’t know Europe that well. I was in Benidorm to film the new series, but it’s not the sort of place I’d choose for a holiday. I liked Germany when I went for the World Cup – the Germans were very welcoming, different from what I’d expected – and Rome and Dubrovnik are beautiful.

I had a disastrous holiday to Portugal, though. I booked a package for new year: I had visions of being in a little community where nobody spoke English, where I’d win people over by helping them to mend nets, but I was in a retirement village next to a building site, with about 300 pensioners shouting “Monkey!”.

I ended up singing American Pie to them on New Year’s Eve, drinking rum with tears rolling down me cheeks. I can’t remember exactly where it was. I’ve tried to blank it from my memory.

I do like holidays in Britain. I love Robin Hood’s Bay, between Scarborough and Whitby. It’s a little fishing village on a hill, and it’s got three pubs and a beautiful beach for walking on.

They’re really friendly, and it’s just ... cleansing. I know that sounds soft, but you can have all the troubles of the world, and you walk up and down the beach and they’re nothing. I stay in a lovely little cottage there, with a real fire, and I wake up to the sea. It’s fantastic.

I think I’ll end up by the sea. Don’t get me wrong – I love St Helens, my home town, but I can see myself living in a cottage miles from anywhere. Then maybe I could go to St Helens for my holiday. I’d love to be able to say that.

They do have a tourist information centre there, you know. Nobody’s seen it, but there’s a budget for it. They put up a sign, “Welcome to St Helens – Over 2,000 Parking Spaces”. That was the best they could come up with. Nowt to do, but lots of parking while you’re not doing it.

I’m intrinsically a northerner, and I do like it rugged. I don’t mind the wind battering me. I don’t mind walking on the beach with a huge coat on. Maybe I’ll end up at Robin Hood’s Bay. I’ll walk along and think, all I need now is a well-trained springer spaniel and to take up smoking rollies, and I’ll be complete.’

Johnny Vegas talked to Stephen Bleach

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