DESPITE the credit crunch and the overbearing euro, we’re all going on holiday abroad rather than spending our time on British beaches.

This is according to a study carried out on behalf of that well-known environmental organisation, Corona beer.

Two-thirds of us are snubbing Southport and Scarborough for St Tropez and Sardinia – no great surprise there.

But it’s not poor weather or the concentration of Punch and Judy shows that’s causing this mass exodus – it’s that the British seaside is generally a bit grubby.

Hmmmm. Well, this seems a bit unlikely. Sure, plenty of them could do with a bit of a spruce-up and, if the recent Apprentice challenge in Margate was anything to go by, a rebranding campaign.

But I can’t believe that clearing away a few stray crisp packets and the odd broken beer bottle would cause everyone to opt for a staycation.

None of this matters, of course, because Corona has got a celebrity on board, so its campaign is bound to be a success, or at least resemble one.

Jade Jagger is helping the beer company launch a competition to find the country’s most popular dirty beach (be careful if you’re reading this out loud), which will then be given a free make-over courtesy of the Foundation for Environmental Education.

In a double celebrity whammy, they’ve also got the late explorer and environmentalist Jacques Cousteau’s grand-daughter, Alexandra, on board.

Which is all great, I suppose, except that it won’t solve the problem in the long term, even if it does get it a bit of publicity along the way.

And anyway, without global warming lurching us into a semi-tropical climate, it’s unlikely that we’ll all spend our summers reclining on British sands.

Which is a good thing, surely. Because, while I’m all in favour of the coastline being pollution free, I would hate it to be transformed into the Costa del Sol.

British beaches suit their deserted, windswept look – largely why Crosby is such a great location for Antony Gormley’s Another Place Iron Men.

I grew up in Formby and often felt surprised when people from outside the area said it must be nice to live next to a beach.

It’s all relative, I suppose, but on this occasion “next to” involves a 40-minute trek to the other side of town followed by a walk through the pinewoods and over the sand dunes.

It’s hardly Summer Bay.

Yet, that’s exactly what I always loved about the beach.

Except on really sunny days, when I would be skulking in the shade anyway, it would be blissfully tourist free.

No rows upon rows of sun loungers, striped windbreakers blocking the view of the sea (even if the tide is usually miles out) and the sickly scent of suntan lotion contaminating the breeze.

Just a few over-enthusiastic dogs, a couple of fleece-enrobed walkers, maybe a single ice cream van and, once, a flasher wearing just a hat and socks.

Best of all are clear winter days, when the wind sand-blasts your face and you have to grab on to a spear of marram grass to stay on your feet.

If ever there could be an antidote to the modern world, half an hour on Formby Beach squinting at the horizon and wondering how grains of sand can pass through solid leather, would be it.

So, Jade Jagger – unless you’re prepared to help with litter-picking – please leave our beach just the way it is.

But you could always check out Margate – perhaps an Apprentice theme park would help prevent the tourists flying south for the summer.

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