A year ago this week something happened to me which I thought I would never speak of publicly. Something incredibly upsetting which changed my outlook on life. A year ago this week I was drugged and mugged. In Benidorm.
I’ve thought long and hard about speaking (or blogging) about this; for a year in fact. I didn’t want to bring any bad publicity to the town which had changed my life in such a positive way. But telling you what happened to me on that August evening/morning in 2009 might hopefully warn others and help them not make the mistake I made.
I’d booked a short one week holiday, in a villa in Albir; a small town nestled between Benidorm and Altea. I’d gone there mainly to relax but I also had a few ideas I wanted to write about so thought a nice villa with a pool would be a welcome break. Obviously being so close to Benidorm I could spend a little time with a few of the friends and acquaintances I’d met over the last few years while making the show.
The first day I was there on my own (my friend who was coming with me had a wedding to go to that day and would be joining me the next day). I arrived in the afternoon and got a taxi from Alicante airport to Albir. The representative from the rental company told me the villa, although beautiful, was very difficult to find so she suggested I got dropped off on the main street, call her from there and she would take me in her car to the villa. I got dropped off at a bar in Albir, ordered a diet coke and sat squinting in the sun as I waited for the rep to arrive. After 20mins or so the rep arrived and took me to the villa which was stunning; sleek, modern furniture and lighting, open staircase, beautiful private pool but in the middle of nowhere. She advised me to call her if I needed to order a taxi as none of the local cab drivers could every find the place just from the address; she would explain to them where to go. As my Spanish isn’t very good I thanked her, waved her off then jumped in the pool.
After a swim and a bit of a sun bathe I wandered into the kitchen and found a welcome bottle of champagne in the fridge; how civilised! I had a couple of glasses of that, had another dip in the pool, listened to some music, did a bit of writing and then decided to get ready for a night out in Benidorm. I called the rep and asked her to call me a taxi. After waiting about 30mins for the taxi I called her again and told her it didn’t arrive. She called the company and the taxi driver couldn’t find the address, they sent another and 20mins later I heard a cab blowing it’s horn; it was almost a street away but I ran out and waved to show him where I was hidden.
My first port of call was to the UK Cabaret bar to watch my cast member and friend Crissy Rock. Crissy worked so hard in Benidorm, she is now based back in the UK, but then she did two shows a night and this was the first gig of the evening. She went down a storm and after she’d signed a few autographs, had her picture taken with a few fans and sold a few dvds she came out for a drink with me. I’d had a few drinks by then and although wasn’t exactly falling over was very merry (for “very merry” read “fairly pissed”). I can’t remember the name of the bar we ended up in but when Crissy had to go I didn’t mind as we’d met up with a few other familiar faces on the way, mostly guys from tribute bands and the like I’d met over the years.
After Crissy left I suddenly felt very unwell. I couldn’t quite understand how I’d gone from “fairly pissed” to “absolutely out of it” in such a short space of time. I decided it was time to go. I remember saying goodbye to several people but I don’t actually remember leaving the club. The next thing I remember I was sitting on a plastic chair outside a closed bar in a dark part of the street. As I focused my eyes I could see my shorts had been sliced with a very sharp knife at the pockets and my wallet and phone were missing. I looked at my wrist to see what time it was but the Rolex I bought myself at the end of Benidorm series 1 had gone too.
I tried to stand up, I had a sensation I’ve never felt before or since. Yes, I was still a little bit drunk but everything seemed heightened, the lights, the noise, I felt totally disorientated but not in the way alcohol makes you feel. I’ve never taken drugs in my life so I had no reference to that but now I’m convinced my drink was spiked with, well, God knows what.
I staggered to a busier part of the street, I had no idea of the time or how long I had been unconscious. I asked a policeman for help but he wasn’t interested, I walked around Benidorm for what I imagine was about an hour asking various people for help; sadly I just appeared to be a drunken idiot staggering around Benidorm not making much sense so nobody was interested.
I decided to walk to The Pelicanos, the hotel where we film Benidorm the series, maybe one of their staff would recognise me from being there every year for 3 months for the past few years. I got to the hotel but the one person on night duty said they couldn’t help me. I asked to use their phone (although God knows who I was going to ring, I didn’t have any numbers or have a clue how to call the international operator), they said no. I begged to use their phone, they refused. I don’t blame the guy working at the hotel, he was just doing his job.
I then walked back into the main part of Benidorm (known as English Square) and started stopping taxis asking if they would take me to Albir, unfortunately I was way too honest for my own good and when I tried to explain I had been mugged and had no money the cabs just zoomed off into the night. I suppose I can hardly blame them. I did this for about another hour and eventually I convinced one driver I would pay him five times the fare the next day if he took me now. He considered this and said “sorry, no”. But he HAD considered it so I held onto his open car window and begged him, “I have nothing, no money, no phone, nothing, please, please, can you imagine being in a foreign country and having nothing with nobody to help you? I’m begging you, please”. The man said nothing but motioned for me to get in his taxi. By this time it was at least a couple of hours since I was mugged and I must admit I started to quietly cry in the back of his car, mainly at the man’s (albeit begrudging) kindness me. I also was still completely whacked out on whatever I’d had slipped into my drink. My relief would soon turn to horror as the real nightmare was about to unfold.
The cab driver took me to Albir but I just couldn’t remember where the villa was. I remembered it was down quite a few back roads but the address and all the information was on my iPhone and in my wallet (both taken). We tried lots of roads but they all looked the same, eventually the taxi driver told me to get out.
I then started walking, thinking I must be able to find the cul-de-sac; there was a huge amount of roads but even if it took me a couple of hours I must be able to find it. I walked for about an hour but seemed to be just going in circles, plus I was getting tired so I thought I’d follow signs to The Sha Wellness Clinic, a hotel/spa in Albir where we had filmed. I got to The Sha and I asked the receptionist if she could help me, I explained the situation and said if I could use their Internet and their phone to make one call I would then leave. She called the police and had me removed. At this point I was quite upset and still disoriented so I suppose she just thought I was a crazy drunk.
The police arrived (one guy) and he was actually fairly nice, tried to calm me down and said, “how can anyone help you if you don’t remember where you live?”. I explained I had arrived the day before, had been driven in a taxi from the airport to a meeting point in Albir and then was taken by the letting agency to the villa, I hadn’t paid attention to the route, all the roads looked the same. He said, “so how can anyone help you?”, I said if I could use the police’s Internet I could retrieve some phone numbers and make a call. He said the police didn’t have the Internet, wished me luck and drove off.
I decided I would try and find the villa again (the keys to the villa were the only thing the thieves did not take and no, there was no address on the keyring) so started to walk. I walked for what must have been 3 or 4 hours, I’m not sure, I had no watch, then finally must have collapsed. I don’t know how long I was unconscious but I woke lying in a road with the very hot sun burning my face and arms, everything hurt, I was totally exhausted and covered in mosquito bites and I could hear voices. Several people, mostly German and Dutch, were standing on the road looking at me. The same questions, “where are you going?” “where are you staying?”. My mouth was dry and cracked and it hurt to speak. A police car and an ambulance motorbike both arrived, they asked where I lived, I explained again that everything had been stolen and I couldn’t find the rented villa. “He is drunk, he’ll remember where he is staying when he sobers up”, the policeman said and kicked my legs out of the road. Then he and the ambulance bike driver left. The ambulance bike driver didn’t even examine me. I couldn’t believe it. Somehow everything was even more terrifying in the daylight. The evening before had been like a confusing nightmare but I’d woken from the nightmare to find I was still in it. And with no way out. I still had no money, I still had no phone, I still didn’t know where I was staying. I’ve never been able to remember phone numbers, how many people do? these days you don’t dial a number, you just press a name. I considered doing something to get arrested, maybe attack the policeman, at least he would take me to the police station and they might give me some water? But I didn’t have the energy to stand, never mind attack anyone. As I lie at the side of the road I thought of my comfortable house. I thought of my expensive car. I thought of all the luxuries I’m surrounded by when I’m at home. Many of which were paid for by me writing a TV show, a TV show set in Benidorm. All of these luxuries were many miles away and meant nothing, absolutely nothing. I was lying in dirt. Bruised and dehydrated. I’ve never felt so alone and frightened in my life. Everyone else disbursed, walked back to their million pound villas. Except one woman. A small, middle aged Dutch woman was shouting, “what are you doing? you can’t leave a man lying in the road like a dog, where are you going?”.
This woman’s name was Dineke, she slowly helped me to my feet, took me into her house, gave me coffee (as her rather bemused husband quietly looked on) and then took me in her car to drive around Albir, looking for the villa. We still couldn’t find it so I asked if she would take me an Internet cafe (it was now around 10am). She took me (along with her friend Cecile) in her car to the local Internet cafe, I found the letting agency’s website on the Internet using the words I used to look for a villa in the first place and called them on her friend Cecile’s mobile. I also sent emails to several friends in the UK including my agent asking them to call Cecile’s mobile number urgently.
We also got a map of where the villa was, Dineke managed to eventually find the place although she had never heard of the road (and she had lived in Albir for 4 years). Dineke and Cecile left me at the villa then about 30mins later two reps from the lettings company turned up and asked if I was OK. I told the letting agency reps I was OK and they left me in the house. About 30mins after that Dineke returned with food and water, orange juice, British newspapers etc and loaned me 300 euros. I slept until around 9pm in evening when my friend arrived after the wedding he had stayed in London to attend. The next day we dropped off Dineke’s €300 (plus €200 to say thanks) and ordered some flowers.
That night I sat up in bed, not able to sleep. By 5am I decided to pack my bags and go home. We called a taxi but again, they couldn’t find us. I called another taxi and told them to pick us up at The Sha Wellness Clinic, as we walked there, following the signs, I realised I had passed the top of the street at least three times before collapsing. The top of the street looked like a dead end and that’s why I (or the taxi drivers) never found the villa.
God knows what I would have done if this kind woman (and now my friend) hadn’t helped me. It is a bewildering experience to be lost, to have nothing, to have no idea where to go and to have nobody willing to help you. Yes, I had got drunk when I went out, many people do on holiday but I’d made the mistake of being with acquaintances, rather than people I knew well. Benidorm is a wonderful, fun holiday destination but like every other tourist spot in the world it has a minority of dishonest people who want to take advantage of you. Please take care when you go on holiday this year; I’d never want you to experience anything like the ordeal I went through a year ago this week.
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