We emerged from the haze of Matt’s Bar like confused extras from a glittery Western – ears ringing, legs wobbly, and vague memories of foam, broncos, and karaoke that probably violated the Geneva Convention.
The route today was mercifully straight(ish), giving teams the chance to chase coastline again. Some took full advantage with a chance to dip to the beach, while others ventured to Cádiz for a bit of culture, class, and frankly suspicious levels of tapas.
Now, here’s a twist worthy of a spy film: on the very day we entered Gibraltar, a new border agreement between the EU and The Rock was signed. Coincidence? Or were the negotiators just desperate to clear the roads for Dumball? We may never know.
Crossing into this wonderfully weird little corner of Britain — with its red phone boxes, fish and chips, and prices in actual pounds — felt like stepping into a theme park designed by Alan Partridge. Naturally, we headed straight for the 7th-floor infinity pool, followed by a heroic attempt to sample “authentic” Gibraltarian cuisine (which, it turns out, mostly comes from chain restaurants with a slightly baffled smile).
Then came the real highlight: the Sunborn — our floating megahotel/yacht hybrid, the only vessel grand (and sturdy) enough to hold the full Dumball horde. No swaying, no sinking, just six decks of nonsense, and the only activity truly befitting Day 6…
Karaoke.
And oh, we found our anthem. One song. Six words. A masterclass in musical minimalism:
“TEQUILA.”
Shouted. With increasing volume and decreasing accuracy.
It was dumb. It was glorious. It was very, very Dumball.
