AS the late-morning sun beats down on the Panorama's poolside terraces, our eyes are drawn to the figure of Thomson's entertainment manager gently pushing a disabled woman in a wheelchair by the water's edge.
"Ah, how kind," an elderly Scots lady remarks to her husband.
And so it would seem.
But seconds later we gasp as the bespectacled Thomson rep suddenly charges the wheelchair towards the pool and tips the lady into the water.
The woman thrashes about, retrieves her floating grey wig, then clambers from the pool where she and her Thomson colleague collapse in gales of laughter.
But no one else is laughing at this sick prank masquerading as "entertainment".
Indeed, from the poolside to the hotel balconies, stunned guests seem utterly aghast. Others shake their heads in disbelief.
And, most damming of all, this example of excruciatingly bad taste is witnessed by at least five genuinely disabled guests, two of them in wheelchairs.
But this is no one-off incident. Over our fortnight at the Panorama evidence mounts of Thomson's appalling refusal to acknowledge that this is October when Gold hotels are bulging with over-Sixties - many in poor health - who mostly want to walk, swim, read novels and simply relax by the pool.
But not if Adam has his way. On and off for five gruelling hours a day, we're shrieked at by this "entertainments" rep in purple sequinned waistcoat who treats his hapless victims like children or imbeciles.
As we cover our ears, he tours the poolside asking elderly people with sticks if they'd like a hip replacement. During the games and quizzes he yells banalities at guests while displaying his own breathtaking ignorance of how to pronounce words like Gorbachev, Gestapo, Senegal and Renault ("Renolt"). And he sees fit to "entertain" pensioners by donning a chicken outfit and running around the pool clucking.
But, most of all, it's his non-stop screeching that infuriates mature guests who have paid handsomely to unwind in peace here.
True, you can take or leave the evening shows in the Panorama's entertainment bar . . . but there's no escaping this five hours of daytime hell around the pool.
In early to mid-October, when more than 500 people are in the hotel, Adam musters barely 30 guests per game at his spot near the pool, a handful of whom become his regular hangers-on.
Plainly, the figures are abysmal: a damning indictment of Thomson's late-season daytime entertainments policy . . . and a crass misjudgment of this Gold hotel's clientele.
Yet, predictably, the hotel's management and the Thomson reps tell us that most of their over-60s guests actually "enjoy" Adam's brain-numbing behaviour and his deafening pre-games music.
Well, not from where we're sitting.
Our holiday is shot to pieces by the noise . . . and not just from the pool area.
Bedrooms around the hotel are blighted by over-loud music and DJs' witless commentaries blaring from a nearby seafront bar and another hotel across the harbour.
Why? Because Es Cana is "un cuchitril" . . . a dump. A fearful tatty stretch of instantly forgettable trinket shops and same-again bars and clubs.
And the din often goes on until the early hours as late drinkers stagger past and dustmen collect a mountain of clanking, empty bottles before 7am.
But what of the hotel itself? The rooms may be clean and comfortable . . . but you'll need earplugs at bedtime to avoid being kept awake by all the slamming doors around you after midnight when the entertainment winds up.
The restaurant food? Average and samey. And be sure to wear full body armour to survive the dreadful self-service stampede at breakfast and dinner when impatient, ill-mannered guests elbow and shove their way into the food queues.
Talk about "The Blight of the Charge Brigade!"
For all that, the lunch snacks in the bars are stunning value. But if you enjoy traditional Cava, avoid the hotel's eight-euro stuff, a synthetic and highly dubious concoction, and go instead for the real stuff costing a wee bit more.
The holiday's memorable moments? The unusually belting October weather. The glorious coastal walks out of Es Cana. The sun-drenched boat trip to Ibiza and its beautiful old town, Dalt Vila. The restaurant's stunning waitresses . . . including the bewitchingly freckled Slovakian girls. The cheerful, ever-singing room cleaners, one of whom takes up my invitation to dance down our corridor!
And, finally, the hilarious sight of one of the pool-side staff playfully hurling a make-believe grenade in Adam's direction whenever he shrieks into view!
But Adam won't be on view much longer, we're told. Not in the Panorama anyway.
Thomson is said to have "promoted" him to a position in one of its Lapland hotels where he'll become a Christmas elf.
Ah . . . peace at last.
Now that really IS something to shout about!
This review is the subjective opinion of a TripAdvisor member and not of TripAdvisor LLC
