Britons work longer hours than almost any other nation in Europe, taking fewer public holidays, labouring from Monday to Friday on the promise of a blissful weekend of fun. But how do we spend our precious days off? Slouching in vast herds beneath the neon canopy of some indistinguishable out-of-town shopping centre, peering up horizonless aisles of self assemble wardrobes, queuing for the vomitcoaster at a soulless theme park in a line that smells of teenagers and sugar. What the hell are we doing with our leisure time? When asked what you did at the weekend, will you mutter something about shelves and how hard it was to park? Or will you regale them with a mighty tale of your trip to the Somerset Shoe Museum?