Columnist John Light is unsettled by the sights of some of the British abroad

I AM aghast! The British abroad stun me. Go to Berkeley Castle, Chedworth Roman Villa or Westonbirt Arboretum and you will see the epitome of English elegance.

Visitors are clad in clothes that are typically appropriate both for the occasion and the age of the wearer. Good taste prevails.

Sadly, taste is left behind when getting on an aeroplane and landing in a hot country.

Packing has clearly been a victory for hope over reality.

In many cases a conversation with a quantity surveyor would have prevented disaster upon disaster.

The evidence is for all to see. Paunches are revealed, and many gentlemen of a certain age are easily likened to perambulating toby jugs.

The more slender (I am too kind to say skinny) among us resemble skin-shedding stick insects.

On the beach, by the pool or in it, there are misjudgements. Sartorial elegance is in short supply.

Matters do not improve in bars and restaurants.

Worse is to come! I have to mention tattoos.

For many years I have believed that there is no human body or part thereof that is enhanced by the addition of a tattoo.

Two weeks in Barbados has proved me correct. No other nation has so many of its people disporting ugly additions to otherwise what could be bodies of distinction. If you are thinking of imminently facing the needle, change your mind immediately.

Then there is the wearing of football shirts. I am a believer in the law of Danny Baker.

No fan should be seen wearing a replica shirt more than 10 miles from the team's ground, unless they are supporting their side fulfilling an away fixture.

This common sense law is totally ignored. Too many shirts are seen overseas.

Manchester and Arsenal are the most popular. All look new and are worn by middle-aged men from Guilford or Worcester.

Phil Mitchell, the undisputed sage of the South Stand at Forest Green has a phrase for such people. It is “plastic fans”.

We can go further, Phil. I suggest tissue paper instead. Their knowledge of their teams is so flimsy and fragile.

They have clearly been bought to impress, but the lively football fans living on the islands of the West Indies know their football and see through these ignorant imposters.

Throughout our marvellous holiday I was proud of Mrs Light. Splendidly supplied by Rigger of Padstow and, nearer at home, by Seasalt and Sahara, she set a fine, but all too rare example of good taste. She was sadly alone.