Save Me…… from yet another big party that not everyone’s invited to

Doesn’t time fly? It seems like it was only a fortnight ago when the people of Seville took a week off work to celebrate Easter. Oh, hang on a minute. It was.

But when it comes to Seville, two weeks without a day off work is a lifetime. So, as luck would have it, another big party is just about to kick off to keep the restless, work-shy hoards in the city happy.

That’s right. It’s Feria time!

Yet another opportunity for virtually 24-hour eating, drinking, dancing, singing and drunkenly throwing up in gutters at seven o’clock in the morning. Anything not to have to go to work. In that respect it’s a bit like an average Saturday night-Sunday morning in Croydon, south London.

But I sell it short. The Seville Feria (the April Fair to non-Spaniards) is a big deal here. A very big deal. So much so that it attracts not just your average punter, but the rich and the famous too. Take a copy of any Spanish gossip magazine with you to the Feria and you can have a fantastic game of celebrity bingo with your mates.

Lots of towns and cities have ferias throughout the year. But Seville’s is the biggest and best. If you are someone, or are wanting to be someone, or are wanting to hang out with someone who wants to be someone, then Seville Feria is the place to be seen.

It’s an excuse for everybody to dress up in the type of clothes a foreigner thinks the stereotypical Spanish person wears every day. For the women, it’s the ankle-length, brightly-coloured flamenco dresses known as faralaes, often with red and black polka dots and lots of fancy bits sticking out everywhere, along with hand fans, huge loop earrings and flowers in perfectly coiffeured hair pulled back on the head so tightly it’s difficult for the women to show facial expressions. Again, at least as far as the hair goes, quite like Croydon in fact, home of the famous Croydon facelift hairdo.

But that’s pretty much where the similarities end.

For the men, it’s the tight, black waistcoats, tight black trousers, black boots, and wide-brimmed hats known as Cordobes. They might even carry a guitar around with them if they really want to be pretentious.

The mayhem kicks off officially at midnight this coming Monday – although people are so desperate for time off work again after a fortnight that they normally start the drinking, singing, eating and dancing tomorrow night instead. The official opening at the huge main gate is marked by fireworks and music and is covered live on TV.

Like I said, it’s a big thing here. On a huge showground – nearly a mile in length - in the Los Remedios part of the city, a virtual mini-city of tented casetas – brightly-coloured marquee tents -  are erected for the duration of the festivities, alongside a huge fun fair. Every other week of the year, the showground remains virtually empty. It really is that big a deal. A massive chunk of Seville city centre empty for 51 weeks a year, just so the Feria has somewhere to go when April comes around.

The Feria has been going for more than 160 years. It started out as a livestock fair, but gradually turned into the spectacle that it is today. Every caseta has a bar, live music, enough beer to sink an Italian cruise liner and truck-loads of food to serve guests who party all day and all night. In fact, on average it might only go quiet for a couple of hours each morning, just enough time to clear away the debris and start all over again at lunchtime. From then, it’ll go right on through to about 8am the next morning. It’s so busy that Seville’s only underground Metro line effectively turns into London Underground’s Northern Line at rush-hour for the duration, as thousands upon thousands of people all pour into the city centre to parade around in their fancy clothes, which would otherwise stay in the cupboard for the rest of the year gathering dust. Try to catch a metro during Feria and you’d better give yourself an extra couple of hours, because you will literally see one after another pull in to the station and pull out again without a single inch of room for anyone new to get on.

So Feria means good food? Tick. Lots of beer? Tick. Dancing and singing? Tick. Horses, processions, live music, fireworks, bright lights, fun fair? Tick. What could possibly irritate me about all that then, you ask?

Here’s what it is. You need to add something else to the list above. Security guards and signs saying private. More specifically, security guards at nearly every caseta. Because, here’s the really big deal. The vast majority of casetas are private, paid for by companies, organizations, groups of friends, political parties and prominent families in the city. They don’t want just anybody going in. Only special people, the right people, the chosen few. And the security guards are there just to remind anyone who forgets.

Now, I’ve spoken to plenty of people who say they don’t have a problem with it. If the caseta is paid for by a private party then what’s wrong with only invited guests being allowed in? Well, that’s fine if it’s a few here and there, but it’s not like that in Seville. Don’t expect to go along as an average visitor or tourist and find plenty of casteas to wander into. The security guard will wave his big stick in your direction and encourage you to keep walking.

What a fantastic, all-inclusive, non-elitist, fun for all, big-time get-together, load of bollocks is that then? It’s like me having a party but then telling some of the guests they’re only allowed on the terrace and they can’t come into the house even if they’re desperate for the toilet. It’s like going into a shop but being told by the shop assistant to stay away from the more expensive things on display as “they’re only for important people, Sir. You’ll find the tat and the shite on the ground floor along with the other peasants, Sir. Off you go now.”

Yes, it’s a big event. Yes, it’s famous, yes, it’s got lots of fireworks and other things that go bang and pop and is given 24-7 coverage on the local TV channels. But it’s not quite as welcoming as it might at first seem. Why not go the whole hog and have a coupon day or a “Poor People’s Afternoon” where visitors without connections get to root through the bins and the skips to see what they can find. “Look, it’s a half-eaten sandwich that Belen Esteban threw on the floor in disgust.” Or “I’ve found a cracked wine glass with Carmen Maura’s lipstick and spit on it. Fantastic!”

My advice? Wait a couple more weeks for the Feria in Jerez. It’s only about 90km down the road, a bit smaller and not quite as famous. But 95 per cent of the casetas there are open to the public and there’s plenty of food, drink, music, dancing and singing for everybody.

I know it means another two weeks of having to go to work before you can have a holiday again. But you can watch the Seville one on the TV and you’ll achieve the same effect as if you were there in person. Look but don’t touch.