Derek stops off at a café in Wolverhampton on the way up to Lancashire, and selects a beef and onion pie. 'Shall I tip the gravy all over your food or not?' 'Yes please' says Derek, who likes to live a little.
'What a splendid organisation!' says Derek, who is of limited means himself.
'My goodness, this sea air has made me hungry!' announces Derek. A chicken jalfrezi outside Ye Old Fighting Cocks is just the job.
We calm him down and persuade him to climb the Knott. 'Jesus, my ******* chest is ******* heaving. Has NO ****** got a fag?'
And there's still time before bed to borrow a fellow hosteller's car. 'Cheers, Kelvin, that was ******* ace - did a ton round ******* Windermere'.
The next morning Derek is a little bleary-eyed. We take him down to The Posh Sardine in Arnside for a strong cup of coffee. 'It's a little bit drizzly today, isn't it,' he points out.
But he's a game little fellow, and tackles the rugged walk to Silverdale. 'Oh, aren't the plants high!' he exclaims.
'Oh dear - I'm rather scared of heights!'
'What perfectly lovely views!' gasps Derek in awe.
Made it at last. 'Let's have a nice cup of tea,' suggests Derek sensibly.
In a jaunty mood on the train, Derek wears his cap 'Robin Hood style'.
Next day it's off to Morecambe. 'Oh my, what a beautiful sandy beach!' enthuses Derek.
He enjoys strolling along the front, and browsing the second-hand bookshop. 'Some jolly exciting books in here,' he comments.
Then Derek disappears for an hour. Where can he be?
Oh there he is, in a shop. He's playing the giddy goat. 'I wondered when you'd raise your ugly ******* head,' he says.
'Can't get any ******* sense out of these ******** - they appear to be ******* idiots,' appraises Derek.
Next morning, he has to say goodbye to his little holiday friend.
'What a perfectly wonderful mini-break I've had!' ejaculates Derek.