They say lobsters mate for life, but you will be mating with nobody if you pretend you can wear factor 15 because your "grandma lives in the Algarve". Burning in the sun will send you swimming back down to your true, shell covered family, as skin on skin contact becomes increasingly unbearable. Cover up, you silly crustacean, or it's down into the depths of despair for you.

Getting In A Taxi That's Not A Taxi

Trying to save money? Think again before you end up DEAD.

Thinking You Can Out Tough A Bouncer

Queue jump posturing and slightly-too-deep, deep-V's have thickened the skins of Ibiza's doormen. They remember the days before Paris Hilton set up shop in Amnesia and when Es Paradis was considered the most beautiful club on the island rather than a rusting garden centre. They've learned to repress the memories for the sake of a tranquil half year, but once in a while they'll still find someone who reckons they're better than them. Don't be that person.

Turning Into A Pair Of Chattering Teeth

When did your body become reduced to nothing but a pair of chattering teeth? Was it as you ground your bones down on the dancefloor or was it when you forgot to chew gum that one night when you didn't stop at just eating your cheeks? Did you eat your entire body instead, reducing your very being to just a pair of wind up, joke shop teeth? Pull the other one mate because you belong in a cracker.

Becoming The Office Ghost

On return nothing has changed. The air conditioning in your office is still stifling and your lunchtime choices remain the same. The only things that have changed are the number of emails in your inbox and your well being, which has gone from human being to ghost. You've become a part of the supernatural world, a grey, translucent version of your former self, who you left on Bora Bora beach. The month long comedown you joked about before leaving for Ibiza is arrived. RIP to you. 

Illustrations by Ben Gore, whose excellent work you can see here