The Strange Online Species Who Join Holiday Groups Just to Be Unhelpful
A longform dispatch on the people who answer holiday questions with moral lectures, Google tutorials, and children so theatrically wholesome they sound like they were cast by a premium cereal advert.
There is a guaranteed species on every Facebook holiday group. You ask a very simple question, and within minutes someone appears who has absolutely no intention of answering it, but is deeply committed to explaining why your question is morally inferior to the way they go on holiday. That is where this feature begins. A Canary Detect field report into the strange online behaviour of people who join a group built for local tips, recommendations and shortcuts, then spend their time doing everything except giving local tips, recommendations and shortcuts.
The first species answers your question by launching a lifestyle presentation.
Ask, ‘Any idea how I get British TV channels?’ and no answer arrives, obviously. Instead you get a lecture. You are on holiday. Why would you need TV? Their adorable little angels spend the evenings having meaningful conversations, painting delicate watercolours of the local scenery, and writing travel journals with fountain pens by candlelight.
Ask, ‘Anywhere I can get an English breakfast?’ and again there is no location, no recommendation, no help whatsoever. Just the same sermon. They immerse themselves in the local culture, join the fishermen at 4am, fillet their own fish, grill it on hot coals on the beach, and discuss regional history while the children, already fully dressed with brushed teeth by 6am, wait excitedly to embrace another day of authentic experiences.
Ask, ‘My kid’s phone charger is broken. Anywhere I can get it fixed?’ and cue the same crowd. Their children do not use phones on holiday. They play board games, do Sudoku, one is halfway through writing a novel, and the other is composing beautifully handwritten letters to friends back home on recycled parchment.
It is never just a normal answer. Nobody says, ‘Try the shop near the marina.’ No. It has to become a full lifestyle presentation by a family who apparently holiday inside a Waitrose advert.
Nobody says, 'Try the shop near the marina.'
The examples get stranger the moment tea, chips, football and sun loungers enter the chat.
Ask where to buy a decent cup of tea and you discover they stopped needing tea years ago. On holiday they drink fresh mountain infusions prepared by a local shepherd called Mateo, who taught their twins mindfulness while the eldest learned traditional basket weaving.
Ask for chips for the kids and their children, of course, would never ask for chips. They snack on olives, anchovies and lightly charred padrón peppers while discussing marine conservation. Ask where to watch the football and you are informed that they do not holiday to watch football. They holiday to reconnect with what really matters. Last night they sat silently on a cliff and listened to the wind until the children fell asleep under ethically sourced linen throws.
Ask which supermarket sells Heinz beans and apparently once you have tasted tomatoes hand picked at sunrise by a local grandmother called Pilar, you will not even remember what beans are. Ask where to get a sun lounger and they do not do loungers. They lie directly on the earth so they can feel grounded and in tune with the volcanic energy.
Ask whether any bars are showing the darts and they avoid screens entirely. Evenings are for candlelit chess, soft guitar music, and teaching the children how to identify constellations in three languages. Somehow every one of these families has children who wake up delighted, fully dressed, and desperate to learn about local pottery. Remarkable scenes.
Nobody is this wholesome for seven straight days in 32 degree heat.
Then the second species arrives. The 'use Google' brigade are somehow even stranger.
Nobody talks like that in real life because they would sound completely unhinged.
This might be even stranger, because if this was real life and not Facebook, it would sound absolutely mental. Imagine being in a pub and saying, ‘Can anyone recommend a decent curry house nearby?’ and someone leans over and says, ‘Have you tried Google?’ Or asking where the nearest cashpoint is and getting, ‘This has been asked before, Google it.’
Or saying, ‘Do you know anywhere that does a good breakfast?’ and being told, ‘The information is already out there if you do your own research.’ You would look at them like they had just licked the bar. It is the same energy as asking where the toilets are in a beer garden and hearing, ‘Asked loads of times, mate.’
Or asking a mate where he got his haircut and he replies, ‘This has been covered before. Please refer to previous pub discussions.’ Nobody talks like that in real life because they would sound completely unhinged. That is what makes the Facebook versions so funny. Someone asks a normal question and instead of either answering it or ignoring it, people take time out of their day to be politely pointless.
The funniest part is that they joined the group specifically designed for this exact thing.
What makes it even funnier is that these people have joined a group specifically for local tips, recommendations and holiday info about Playa Blanca, then get annoyed when people ask for local tips, recommendations and holiday info about Playa Blanca.
It is like joining a fishing club and losing your mind every time someone mentions a fish. Or joining a restaurant review group and replying to every post with, ‘Cook at home.’ ‘Use the search feature’ is basically the digital version of folding your arms, smirking, and offering directions while refusing to give any.
If you know the answer, answer the question. If you do not, keep scrolling.
If someone asks for a recommendation, just answer the question if you know. If not, keep scrolling. Nobody needs a customer service rejection letter from a bloke in a beer garden. Nobody needs to hear that your children rise at dawn to forage figs and translate folk songs. And nobody needs a smug announcement that Google exists, as if you have personally invented it and cannot wait to unveil it to the group like some stunning new piece of technology.
That is the part that makes the least sense. Why use time and effort to reply with something of no help at all? If you do not want to answer, just say nothing. But no, some people seem to enjoy the little buzz of sounding clever while contributing absolutely nothing.
The Leaky Finders is Canary Detect’s lighter side. Still investigative. Just aimed at leaks in online common sense rather than pool pipework.
