Well the seafront has many unexpected surprises, unlike the early morning post. One minute you are licking the froth off a flat white coffee and trying to work out if a group of holiday goers have genuine pink hair or have been subject to a gale force candy floss departure on a rollercoaster. Then you somehow end up in a photo, not quite knowing how you got there.
It’s fun time with the Mariachis. There was something in my water that told me these guys were not your average buskers, their hats were too big to begin with, and the bandits were full of Mexican beans. Turns out the group are on a Mariachi Doritos Tour. They are zipping around and if you get a knock at your door, no it’s not Keith Chegwin.
About the band: (Vocals/guitarron) Big Sal: el head honcho of the band. Any dude who grows a full moustache at the age of six was always destined to be the big enchilada.
’80s pop pundit and financial consultant. Rob can simultaneously maintain the balance of your investment portfolio whilst singing ‘The Rain’ by Oran ‘Juice’ Jones.
(Guitar) Farman: Never goes anywhere without his trusted whoopee cushion, blue mouth sweets and those glasses with the eyes painted on. Probably why he gets thrown out of the band on average once a month.
(Accordion) Limber: the ladies-man of the band, who is regularly besieged by groupies backstage.
He refers to his Mariachi costume as his ‘paternity suit’.
(Trumpet) Juan: Juan’s real name is Terry. The guys rock out with modern songs like ‘Don’t you Want Me Baby’. My personal favourite is the horse noise Juan makes with the trumpet. Naaaaaay!