It’s nearly peak holiday time, peak airport queues, peak sunstroke in the Med, peak bagsy-the-lounger-at-6am and, most hilarious of all, peak people watching at the hotel buffet.

Here are a few types I was appallingly judgemental about on a trip a few months back to the Canary Islands. There’s no finer way for the English to spend the evening dining experience, fuelled by a pulse-racingly strong Aperol spritz and a carafe of wine, than bitching about everyone else.

• Mr Crackers: short and tubby. After chugging through starters, salad, soup, hot main course, cold main course, hot dessert and cold dessert, he undertakes a drive-by of the extensive cheese counter, piling mounds of the stuff onto his plate – accompanied by a teetering tower of crackers. He then hoovers it all up, mouth open while chewing, gargling it down with yet more wine, still eyeing up the rest of the buffet. He looks eight months pregnant.
• Mr Pizza: tall and, er, strapping. Every night, he takes a plate and a huge, dripping slice of pizza which he slowly folds into his mouth as he patrols every counter, scrutinising the offering, completing at least three circuits before loading up to start his actual meal. He looks happy.
• Mr & Mrs Smug: late 40s. Very, very, very, very smug. They are regulars who like to think they are doing the overworked waitress a huge favour by patronising her (in English, of course), hugging her and demanding they sit in ‘her’ area. Mrs goes in for 1950s frocks and Mr is chino man. They eat carefully and mindfully – they have tennis in the morning. Mrs repeatedly giggles; “Oooh, I shouldn’t” as she queues up for the syrup-soaked crepes suzette. They look so pleased to be them, you want to push them face first and ear deep into the smoked salmon draped on crushed ice.
• Mrs Bustle: in her 60s, extensive Marks & Spencer ‘holiday’ wardrobe collection. Truly, madly, deeply absorbed in her food. She bustles her way to and from the buffet repeatedly while her silent and slightly morose husband chews stolidly through his food, looking down at the floor just past their table as he does. The only talk is from her, about what she has just ladled onto her plate. They look very dull.
• Manic Maureen: sharp-faced, very slim 40-something. She and Mr Maureen, are out of the traps for the second sitting like greyhounds. They are halfway through their meal while most people are still finding their tables; they shovel down six courses in half an hour before striding out the restaurant … to who knows where. Perhaps a little light Canarian wife swapping? They look determined.
• Mr & Mrs Know-It-All: nearly empty nesters on a first holiday without the ‘kids’. They spend most of their time buffet circling, whispering and giggling to each other when seated and endlessly scanning the room. Nobody else notices them. Oh yes, that’s us.

Have a great holiday – and enjoy the buffet!