‘We’d walked the front, tried the pubs, been thrown out of the night clubs for being decently dressed,’ said Alan Smith after his rescue ordeal. ‘Then we noticed the mud flats – brown, dank, flat and boring – and realised that they were the best part of the town.’ He said he and his wife Sandra ventured onto the flats and suddenly realised that their £5.50 a night holiday excursion wasn’t totally overpriced after all.
‘When I lost my flip flop in the mud I was a little distraught,’ said Sandra, ‘as that had been a gift from my nephew some years ago when he’d outgrown it. But when I sank up to my groin in mud, with every movement driving me further and further literally into the mire I realised I may never see Rhyl town centre again.’
‘It was a blessing – OK, we were about to die a horrible death but at least we were responsible for it. I thought about dialling 999 once, but I’m pretty low on my PAYG plan so thought I’d leave it for the afterlife instead,’ said Alan. ‘But now we’re safe and well in Rhyl town centre,’ he added before asking for the words ‘safe’ and ‘well’ to be omitted.