This is part of a big glossy spread for the Camelot, a resort that attempted to exploit the natural relationship between King Arthur and summer vacations. Surely King Arthur spent a weekend or two smoking Winstons, yelling at the kids not to swim too far from shore, getting a painful sunburn on his shoulders, and listening to the people in the next cabin go at it like newlyweds without bothering to close the damn window. So, Welcome!

Yes, Welcome! You’ll feel like you’re in Merrie Olde Englande, if that Englande includes Vitalis-drenched guys with rayon shirts tightly highlighting their man-boobs.

That’s gatekeeper Joe in the middle there - you’ll have to drive around him. He never moves. Seems he used to own this here land, and can’t quite bring himself to move off.