Slovenians' arch rivals are...each other

This damage was not caused by sonic booms...

Buildings in this part of Slovenia are built to withstand the effects of heavy vibrator use

From Parzival to the Gestapo, Borl Castle has both

Vurberk Castle: space in Slovenia is tight, allegedly.

Aerodrom Maribor d.o.o. was briefly owned by Chinese-backed Slovenian firm SHS Aviation before they fled

Gay abandon in Ptuj (not in a gay way)

Tired of spas and golf where you are?  Spa and golf hotel  from a mere £270 a night in Luton

Please do not offend the locals' religious customs: little worries Slovenes more than dancing at petrol stations

Please come to our lovely airport.

Situated near little Orehova Vas (Walnut Village) in the Slivnica Hoče administrative district, Maribor Edvard Rusjan Airport is halfway between Maribor or Ptuj - and not under the control of either municipality. 

Now, with its many fictional facilities, Maribor's OK for a day.

However, for history and soul don't miss the far sexier vibratory town of Ptuj – just as close to the airport as Slovenia's second city.

But please be careful if you land at our Airport expressing a desire to go to Ptuj.

Language difficulties may arise during which rival Slovenians (from Maribor) will point or carry you off in the wrong direction for financial gain. 

Meanwhile the Haloze region (the other way) is one of the great variety of beautiful landscapes Slovenia has to offer. 

It is overwhelmingly safe.  Unless you're a gypsy. Or one-a-dem refugees.

To avoid giving money to each other, Slovenians themselves prefer to spend their own holiday cash among the hated Croatians. 

And with a quaint lebensraum terror of foreign invasions, used by the right-wing parties to hoover up the farmer vote, Slovenian tourism experts feel they don't have room to clutter up their little country with foreigners. 

In reality Slovenia has a population density under 40% of that of the UK. But it is no use telling Slovenians that they have more room than Poles, Czechs or Nigerians. 

The great Slovenian space-shortage is somewhere between family reality and a figment of the nationalist imagination, and ultimately an article of faith which allows the Powers-That-Be to charge more for everything - from smaller apartments to bigger packets of biscuits. 

No, honestly, a packet twice the size can cost you two-and-a-half-times as much! Because as their owner, you must pay for the Slovenian space they consume.

Don't expect much jam in your doughnut either - jam dosages are evidently decided by a team of bakery lawyers and economists, not people who like jammy doughnuts.  It's as if Gordon Brown had ordered a strategic review of doughnut targets.

As exotic foreign fare, one of these dry, indigestible, high-dough-low-jam doughnuts costs the same as a pack of five succulent ones from Asda or Tesco.  

The Slovenian doughnut is a paradigm of the country's theo-oligarchic business model: you won't be fooled again, but it doesn't matter - you're not coming back anyway.

Tourism in Slovenia is mainly run by cheap student labour, so expect to be closely observed as part of their curriculum.

Their 15 years of "tourism studies" will now be replaced with a 100-SECOND EDUCATIONAL BLITZ ABOUT THE CULTURAL FACTORS, ECONOMICS AND LOGISTICS OF TOURISM.

FOR FREE we now reveal the TEN BRITISH TOURISM SECRETS that Slovenians could have used had they not been distracted by obedience to pedagogic authority figures: 

1. To have tourism you need TOURISTS.

2. To get them there from 1000km away you need SOME KIND OF FLYING MACHINE.

3. In contrast to some European hormetic theorists, we of the world's first nuclear powers are generally emotionally accepting of the linear no-threshold model of radiation damage and we think your magnetism and radon cures are hysterically not-funny quack relics from the eras of Mesmer and radium corsets.  See, you don't even know what I'm talking about. 

4. Yes, while we're on the topic of relics, Brits are equally skeptical of religious mumbo but might tolerate visiting Catholic heritage sites out of historical interest, but more probably just for a laugh.  Lock up your icons or they will end up on the wall of a student bedsit in Worksop.

5. We British do like hot weather, and (generally, not personally though) getting shitfaced drunk on the cheap. 

6. We could use a more laid-back life than Britain will ever offer again. 

7. We will come to Slovenia if EITHER a) we know where it is, OR b) it costs us virtually nothing to get here. Or nothing.

8. When your efforts to stop us coming are defeated, we can start adding to your corporate social responsibility and environmental best practice value chain by accepting your offer to get shitfaced drunk. 

But I'm afraid we don't want to hold you up while you interrogate us and breathe stale fags and salami in our face.  Really, THERE IS ENOUGH ROOM.

9.  If we are female tourists meeting Slovenian boys, we are probably not going to be impressed by your assumption that we foreign girls are easy.  We are, but you're just as creepy and hung-up as usual. 

10.  And us male tourists meeting Slovenian girls are not going to understand that you are either a virgin or a prostitute, who assumes us to be a conveniently at-hand free English-practice resource but also a rapist.

CONGRATULATIONS.  YOU NOW KNOW EVERYTHING AND YOU HAVE PASSED.