Bognor’s got The X Factor
When Butlins unveiled its £20 million Ocean Hotel in Bognor Regis, chatter was all about booming bookings and a shiny new spa signalling a shift away from the old hi‑de‑hi image. What struck me most wasn’t the hotel, snazzy as it was, but the entertainment, and how chaotic it could be.
I’ve always had a soft spot for holiday‑camp mishaps. Years earlier, at a Welsh caravan park, I watched a man called Uncle Paul attempt to escape from a sack and fail spectacularly. My dad and I laughed until we cried. I never thought anything could match it.
Then came Chico.
During our stay at the Ocean Hotel, Chico bounded on stage dressed somewhere between Private Benjamin and the A‑Team, ready to launch into It’s Chico Time. Except his backing track stalled. Twice. He froze, glanced left and right, and the silence grew awkward.
It was unintentionally hilarious, but in the gentlest way. Chico was a natural showman, warm and energetic, telling us about his Positive Mental Attitude. The crowd adored him. His new song Crazy went down a treat.
Before Chico, Eoghan Quigg had the kids (including our daughters) screaming like Beatlemania had come back. He powered through his X Factor favourites and seemed amazed to be performing at the same holiday camps he’d visited as a child. Judging by the queue for photos and the number of Eoghan T‑shirts the next day, he was a hit.
The next night we wandered into Centre Stage expecting a George Michael tribute, only to find Circus Hilarious: wigs, slapstick, exaggerated accents and a Stevie Wonder gag that made me wince as the audience roared. It felt like stepping back decades. We eventually tracked down Andrew Browning as George Michael in Reds, a smaller venue with a faint whiff of stale beer, and he was excellent. I woke up singing I’m Your Man the next morning.
The redcoats’ big variety show, V is for Variety, was a whirlwind of energy: sometimes brilliant, sometimes bewildering. The Rolling Stones segment and the African Acrobats were standouts. A performing dog from Britain’s Got Talent less so. I spent the second half longing for Stavros Flatley. Still, Butlins had pulled in huge names that year — Diversity, George Sampson and more — a far cry from the old‑school acts nostalgia fans remember so fondly.
Daytimes were packed with climbing walls, mini Go Ape adventures, fencing, street dance, archery and character meet‑and‑greets. Queues for the big acts were long (we waited 90 minutes for Chico and Eoghan), but chatting in line is half the fun. And the redcoats were as polished and enthusiastic as ever. Their version of Sleeping Beauty was better than some pantos we’ve paid for.
So does the entertainment live up to the gleaming new Ocean Hotel? Mostly, yes. There’s something for everyone — from X Factor stars to old‑school slapstick — as long as you pick your venues wisely.
And thankfully, not an Uncle Paul in sight.
I’ve loved writing about Butlins over the years and the excitement and character of working‑class holidays.
I’m archiving this 2009 piece here as part of that ongoing story.