To mini-break is to fling one's fragile form into a fog of folly.
How in Kent can a cat keep from flipping his lid
and blowing his bundle?
But do not let fury's cry chafe your cheeks,
for I, everyone's favourite everyman, aka Richard Ayoade,
am here to get your short-haul ship to shore.
Lassoed to a litany of light-ent entities,
I'm going to glibly guide you through a global gambol.
This, this, this is travel without mercy.
Tonight, we double down on the Cote d'Azur,
flip-flopping from Nice to Monaco.
11-mill persons per annum parade on this sun-strafed shore,
lured by the questionable prospect of levity.
Joining me to show that travel isn't just about enjoyment
is comedian and prominent Midlander, Shazia Mirza.
Yes! We're very close, Richard.
I'm very unhappy about it.
Together, we will command the highways...
14km an hour is a perfectly-acceptable speed. What?!
..convert nouns into verbs...
Look at him, with his big yacht, yachting over us.
..and waz our wads at the wheel.
Calm down, Shirley Valentine.
We're here, but should we have come?
We'll soon find out.
That sounded ominous.
Two hours by wing sees us on the shores of Nice,
the common-law capital of the Cote d'Azur.
I'm finding it very difficult to keep the shape of this hat.
It looks very good. That's very kind of you, but it's completely ungoverned.
I think I may have to send it back for moulding.
It's perfect for this area.
But, anyway, why have you brought me to the Cote d'Azur?
We're literally about to cut to an explanatory montage.
The Cote d'Azur, or Blue Coast, was so named in 1887 by some dude
and takes in the tranche of turf from the Rhone River to the Italian coast.
We're talking St to the Tropez, Cannes, Nice
and Mon to the A to the Co.
This sought-after strip has a pop of approx 4.5 mill,
who wantonly withstand 300 days of rays a year.
The bods who've dumped down in this district include the Medieval Russell Grant - Nostradamus,
a passel of painters eg Cezanne and your boy Matisse,
a tank of tax-shy Formula 1 types
and high-profile xenophobe Brigitte Bardot.
With a whole region through which to wang, we wangle some wheels.
Is it Nice car or nice car? As you prefer. OK.
We play with the word "nice". It's lovely wordplay.
Because I like to be patronised by passing pedestrians, we hire a Nice car.
Little did I know it came with an invisible whoop generator.
Whoo! Whoo! Come on!
Is this your first time in a powered vehicle?
Patrons can follow a set route or roam free.
We opt for a deux-heures tour around central Nice
and its immediate vicinity.
With our slow chug along the promenade Anglais-stoking
the vapours of vehicular rage,
Shazia seeks to reclaim the narrative.
Bonjour!
We are seriously royalty.
I think you're confusing royalty with laughing stock.
We trundle towards Trompe-l'oeil, La Chaise de Sab
and use the gratis Nicecar app to get the automated word on the route
about what's en route.
The 75-ton steel structure
symbolises the nine valleys forming the former county of Nice.
So that is the Nine Oblique Lines.
Oh, it sounds like a Massive Attack album.
Another potentially-alienating pop culture reference made,
we hobble into the hills.
I like it that it's very green up here.
It is very green. And then you've got the sea down there.
You've got the two colours right next to one another.
I feel the natural beauty
of the South of France really coming through now.
I know I sound like David Attenborough, don't I?
Almost alarmingly so.
That Blue Planet voiceover job is yours.
Ooo! Great emergency stop there. Little bit of overconfidence.
After my precision stop, we flop out at the Fort du Mont Alban,
whence we can force a full vista of Cap Ferrat
into our breeze-buffeted eyeballs.
Wow! Tax exemption, it is.
It's amazing. One day, I think I'll own... The whole bay.
Me and Shirley Bassey will live next door to each other.
OK. We'll be neighbours.
Like some kind of episode of Bread.
Me, Elton John, Shirley Bassey.
Shall we go and see this more-or-less intact 16th century garrison?
Yes. Garrison of 50 men.
Well, it was built between 1556 and 1560, apparently.
That's right. I don't think there's a coffee shop here.
Actually, the entire back of the fort has been repurposed as a Costa,
so after a soothing cup of watery Joe,
we feel sufficiently caffeinated to plough on.
Is this your regular shopping experience?
I do like markets when I'm on holiday
because you get things, like, look, sausages...
Sure... jam... Yeah... cheese, all in one area.
Have you been to a supermarket before?
This is all out in the open.
So, you don't like roofs?
We have come to sink some Soca.
Since 1925, this Nicoisian chickpea pancake has been blasted out
mere metres from the market,
then pedalled under pain of death to Tereasa's stall.
Here comes a young leaven pancake man.
Oh, the pancake man. Yes.
Oh! Look at the size of that pancake!
I don't think that's one. I think they cut it up.
Deux, s'il vous plait. Deux? Merci.
I'm fluent. Tres bien, Richard.
Oh! Is that salt? Just a little pepper on it.
Oh! Thank you. Yeah.
You are very good at doing this. Yeah.
Thank you very much. Merci beaucoup. Au revoir. Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle.
Did your heart break a little bit when you found out she wasn't putting Nutella on these?
Yes. I mean, I wanted honey, cream, strawberries.
Yeah, the basic snack items.
Who puts pepper on a pancake?
I mean, my blood sugar's basically the same.
That's not what I want from a snack.
It's quite nice, actually. It is quite nice, though. Mm!
It's good. I can really taste the chickpeas.
Oh, that unleavened chickpea is unmistakable.
Humbled by our hubris, we decide to redeem ourselves
with the crutch of culture.
Can I draw your attention to that?
Thinking Inside The Box, Sacha Sosno.
It did catch my eye, yes.
It stands 85-metres high.
It's very interesting. It's like a rubix cube without the colours.
That's not the feedback he wants.
As two of the British Isle's foremost time-tight aesthetes...
Oh, my God!
..we need to restrict the scope of our parameters to one place,
one artist, and one distinct hue.
Am I missing something, or is that just a blue square?
How dare you say that to this piece?
I mean, it is a blue square, you can't deny that.
I'm not sure it's definitely a square.
Yves Klein became well famous for the works rendered solely in the hue
known as International Klein Blue.
That's right, dude was IF for IKB.
Do you prefer that one?
The blue one... or the blue one?
Well, this is just a loose pigment.
You mustn't touch it, though.
If you let one rip, this could be onto the deck.
I'm not saying you would.
It looks like the Queen's carpet.
Klein took a shade close to lapis lazuli
and mixed it with a resin to create a bluer than blue blue.
What happened?
Three women daubed with paint, applied to the chest area,
the stomach and the buttocks, made this.
What, and dragged across the canvas?
I think they self-propelled.
There's a lot of action in this bit.
What happened there?
Maybe one of them coughed.
I do like it. I mean, I would buy it.
After Shazia's final, low,
three-figure offer was roundly rejected,
we leave to locate our quarters, The Windsor.
Hello. Bonjour.
Hello. Bonjour. Hello! Bonjour!
Bonjour, mademoiselle.
Two rooms please. Deux chambre, s'il vous plait. Oui.
Each annum, the lobby becomes an art installation.
It's art.
I'm sensing hostility. It's very unusual.
There's these two men here, sliding on bars of soap.
Quite funny if you look at it long enough.
Yes, many things are.
The elevator is the work of former Andy Warhol protege, Ultra Violet.
Eight, seven, six.
We have main engine start.
Four, three, two, one, and liftoff.
Upstairs, 31 of the 57 rooms are decorated by artists. Thank you.
Mine by Ben Vautier, in his distinctively persistent daub.
Well, this is relaxing.
While Shazia is stunned into Stendhalian solemnity
by Francois Morellet's white and yellow scheme.
I feel like I'm in hospital.
Yes.
Oddly, unable to sleep, we lock up and lollup out
to find the smallest, most authentically Nicoisean restaurant
on the whole d'Azurian coast.
We meet success with uncanny alacrity.
They have no e-mail here, there's no phone.
Right, so, it's like 1936? Yes.
Do you know what? It feels like a sauna.
I mean, we are literally on top of each other.
Over 20 years ago, chef Dominiqueue Le Stanc
turned his two Michelin-starred back on uptown shiz,
picked up some denim overalls and got rustic in this low-key bistro.
Bonsoir, monsieur.
In defiance of Dominique's controlling finger, I order the layered meat,
While Shazia opts for onion tart.
Oh! Do I have to finish this?
The sentence every restaurateur wants to hear.
"Do I have to finish this?"
Next, pasta vert and pesto.
And oxtail and orange.
What I noticed was he didn't give me any Parmesan.
And there's no massive peppermill.
There was no show.
Have you ever been tempted to buy a giant peppermill for personal use?
What do you mean? What did you think I meant?
Not in a sexual-use way.
It's a peppermill. I know.
That would be one of the worst things.
You said for personal use.
I'm talking about non-commercial use within the home.
I do like large peppermills.
Why not? For use with pasta... dishes.
Before I have a moment to fully mourn the death of innocence,
it's time for pud pud.
I'll have chocolate mousse.
If you have mousse, I might have pears, then have some of your mousse.
OK. You're not a sharer?
No, I am a sharer. You're not a sharer.
I just don't like people getting into my mousse. I understand.
When I mentioned trying some of your mousse, your face dropped.
My mousse is for me. You protect your portion.
With barely a begrudging glance, Shazia relents
and graciously consents to a partial desert division.
Um... don't drop it in my pear juice.
You want more mousse? Not now.
Yeah, but stop looking at it, then! I'm not looking at it.
You were looking at it, that means you want it.
You do want it. The moment's passed.
I do not want it. Well...
What is this? There you go.
You were looking at my mousse. I was not looking at your..
What are you, 12?
The remainder of our repast whizzes by in a similar whirl of wry repartee,
and the magic only ends when we're asked to leave and never come back.
Coming up - a second part,
in which we pretend to care about the man on the street...
Think of the people on the 50 bus.
..wonder at nature...
To be fair, a lot of it looks like knick-knacks.
..and go to the world's brightest casino.
Calm down, Shirley Valentine.
Comedian Shazia Mirza and I, the heavily compromised
Richard Ayoade, are taking a two-day detour round the Cote D'Azur.
In Part One, we ruled the roads...
Did they just flip us the bird?
Yes.
..questioned the male gaze...
I always find the female form rather more attractive than the male form.
Have you seen David Beckham?
..and tested the limits of the word "literally."
Do you know what? It feels like a sauna.
We're literally on top of each other.
In Part Two, the unwelcome continuation of Part One,
we take flight from France and 'copter down the coast.
This is not like the 50 bus, is it?
No, it's like the title sequence of 50 Shades Of Grey,
but where nothing's going to happen.
Urgh!
Helicopters are where it started going wrong for Oasis.
Yeah, I do think so.
The seven min journey is the most frequent scheduled helicopter
service in the world, with 50 flights per day choppering off
at 15 min intervals,
or MINtervals.
I can swim, you know. Can you?
Can you swim? Of course I can't.
Look down, then. Look down.
If this crashes, I'm not going to try and survive.
Oh! Ooh.
OK.
I have to say, the pilot landed that admirably.
We need to give him a round of applause. Well done. Woo!
It's probably what the Crown Prince of Monaco does.
Monaco is the most densely-populated country on Earth
and consists of 10 wards. Monte Carlo is one of them.
Let's find out if it's only a hatred of redistributing wealth
that draws people here.
Do you know what? To look at these people,
I wouldn't actually know that any of them were millionaires.
Well, 1 in 3 of the population are millionaires.
I haven't seen any Rolexes.
Have you not? No. No cigars.
You're just scoping wrists!
I've just been looking and there's nothing there.
After a brief bundle round the old town...
Imagine, part of this might be televised.
..we hobble to the harbour... Lovely.
If you like blue sea.
..to find an affordable ride amongst the stifling yawn of yachts.
Can we wait for the Bateau bus? Bus du Bateau.
Two euros a person. Is that return?
I think it's just one way.
See if you can get two for the price of one. I'll haggle.
I'll certainly haggle.
For years, I wondered whether my correspondence course
on European mooring fees had
been an overly-niche endeavour, but today, I was finally vindicated.
Do you know how much it costs to moor your yacht here?
1,200 Euros per day. Of course it goes up during the year... Oh, my gosh.
..on major yachting events, so avoid those.
During the Grand Prix,
86,000 euros for a week for a large yacht.
Do you think the people on the small yachts
look at the people on the big yachts and go, "Look at them, they're so up themselves."
"Who do they think they are?"
Why can't they have a more modest yacht?
Look at him with his big yacht, yachting over us.
That one's got taxis attached to it.
That's a cruise ship.
Seeing taxis on a cruise ship always reminds me of one singular sir.
I miss Roger Moore. Do you?
I really liked him. He was my favourite Bond.
Of course he was. He was a man of elegance.
He had very old-fashioned values. He did.
Here's a diamond, love.
Now, put the kettle on.
OK.
Not bad for two euros. Not bad. I didn't even pay the guy.
Before the guy referred to tracks us down and extracts
his bitter retribution,
we take refuge in the Jardin Exotique,
home to the world's largest collection of succulents and cacti.
I feel cacti and I are relatively similar in terms of approachability.
I feel like we're in a Clint Eastwood film.
We're the comic relief scenes that people skip through on the DVD.
Bonjour, madam. Bonjour, monsieur. Bonjour. Bonjour.
Oui.
OK. D'accord.
Eddie Izzard makes a big deal of doing this.
But he has jokes in it as well.
What are you talking about?
Entrance to the garden also entitles you to visit
the Grotte de l'Observatoire,
the only cave in Europe that gets warmer as you descend.
That's right, it's oppressive AND hot.
It feels like, you know when you go on the London underground
and you can't be bothered to get in the lift and then you decide to take the stairs
and then you don't realise there's three million steps?
That's what this feels like. OK.
Guide Patrick's 35 min tour helps you realise,
on a visceral level, just how much can be said about caves...
..and geology also, as well...
..and how crucial it is to repeatedly warn.
Oui. OK. OK.
The tour's thrilling climax is the system's largest chamber,
The Cathedral, with some parts that look exactly like spires...
Wow!
..a feature that's a facsimile of an organ...
Wow. Lovely jubbly.
..and a protrusion that couldn't look any more
like the Virgin Mary without it being plain spooky.
I think he feels sad to leave us, really.
I think we did connect, didn't we?
On some basic level, yes. Yeah. Hm.
Will you keep in touch? No. OK.
There's a lot to see here. There is
A lot of a beauty in here. Yes. Different colours.
Different shapes.
But to be fair, a lot of it looks more like someone has put
a Berocca in a massive bucket of cream soda.
Oh! Tasty.
Our horizons both expanded and oddly shrunken,
we bowl into Monte Carlo itself.
Well, for motoring nuts like us, what a thrill to be at
the highest point of the Monaco Grand Prix circuit,
44 metres above its lowest point.
Wow.
Buoyed by Shazia's enthusiastic response to my seamless stat off,
I guide us into Monaco's most famous landmark, the Monte Carlo casino.
Opened in 1863, it transformed this minuscule principality
into its current Mediterranean majesty.
You'll no doubt remember this casino from the smash hit film Once Upon A Crime.
Really? Yeah.
The tithe from this dice joint has jacked up Monaco's economy
for an aeon, and allows residents to avoid the egregious iniquities of income tax.
Well, this is my natural habitat.
You must spend a lot of time in casinos in your civilian life? I do.
In the afternoon, the dress code is reassuringly smart cas
and the callow card shark can even get some expert guidance.
With a stack of bunce on our hips,
we bum down with the rest of the waxworks at the blackjack table.
Bonjour, monsieur. Bonsoir. OK, this is Blackjack. Do you know how to play?
Of course not. No.
The aim of the game is to take cards as near as possible
to 21, without exceeding it. OK? OK.
Place your bet. I'm going to start with 10 euros.
It's a good idea.
Err... I think I'll go higher.
Do you know Bruce Forsyth? No?
OK, one more, please.
17.
I need to go one higher, please.
Oh, yeah, I've won!
No, you're bust. It's the opposite of winning.
You've lost. Oh, so I went over by 3. You went over.
You went over.
Oh, come off it!
This is a bit suspicious.
21? The casino always wins.
Let's try again. Sure.
Fresh from his stint at the Overlook Hotel,
Romane deals another belief-beggaring hand.
Dude, you've got 21 twice in a row.
Yeah.
I'm putting another ten, and this time, I advise you to watch it!
Yeah! I'm a dangerous woman.
I'll go 50. You go 50. Off you go.
Jack.
Ooh, a six. Blackjack. Stop.
You've basically lost. I haven't lost. I've literally won.
You've got Blackjack. I've got Blackjack.
What does that mean?
When you have two cards that match aces and ten, it's Blackjack.
So I might go for it, actually. Go for it. You hit? Yeah.
Ooh! 23.
Crumbs. You're unlucky.
Look me in the eyes.
Level with me.
You've got three 21s in a row.
Yes. Yes.
My advice is lose once so it looks plausible.
That's my advice.
In an attempt to soothe the smart of such
a suspicious stiffing, we rock up to the roulette table.
Where can I put this with the best chance of winning?
In your pocket. That's not a victory.
No.
I sensibly select all numbers between 13 and 36
while Shazia stakes 0 to 12 ensuring a definite score for one of us.
Bang. It looks nice.
Roll 'em. Roll 'em, Jerome.
Quatorze. 14. Bang!
Well, it's a good job I didn't gamble the house. Big win.
It's good. Mic drop. I'm out of here. Yeah, but...
Walk away. Always walk away a winner.
You only got ten like chips more. It's not massive!
50 euros. Ouch.
Stings, does it? 50 euros down.
Ooh. Ouch.
What do you want to do with that one? You keep it, Jerome.
Thank you, sir. You keep that. Thank you. No probs.
That emphatic victory helps claw back some of our savage spend
of?463.50 per person,
with not a penny used to straighten my hat,
which by this point is practically a sombrero. I mean, look at it!
This is where all the vertigo sufferers in Monaco
come to build up tolerance.
Rich vertigo sufferers.
That goes without saying. Yes.
How have you found the experience of not just Monaco,
but Nice, the Cote D'Azur?
There were many quirky things about it,
like the Nice cars - I really enjoyed them.
Or NICE cars. I really liked the tiny restaurant.
We were closer than was ideal. Yes. I'll give you that.
I liked the helicopter. If you want something short and thrilling,
that's the thing to do, I think.
Well, there are other things... I know, but I think... the helicopter's up there.
Were there any high points for you?
Aside from the delight of your company, being amongst so many cacti.
I felt they respected my boundaries and I respected their boundaries.
I liked that they all decided on a colour scheme.
What a privilege. What a joy.
And another thing ticked off my bucket list.
If you had to choose between Nice and Monaco... Yes.
..and you do have to choose... Yes.
..which would you choose? I would choose Monaco.
Would you? As a tourist, there's a lot to see,
and there's also a chance that things could change for you
overnight and you could become a millionaire just like that.
You beat the system. And I like that thrill.
Well, thank you... Thank you. ..for being a steadfast companion.
Thank you. Unfortunately, we have spent a good deal of our funds on
that helicopter, so we're going to have to walk at least halfway back.
OK, let's do that, then.
We'll get the plane from Frankfurt. It's cheaper.