On reflection I'm rather surprised that the state of our crumbling East Cliff here in the Millionaires' Playground hasn't, as far as I'm aware, made the front pages of the national papers.
The local papers, of course, have much bigger fish to fry (and wrap themselves around), and prefer to focus their attention on how many keyrings a man in Cliftonville has collected, local councillors marrying Dolly Parton impersonators, and pit bulls getting their heads stuck in railings.
And there's been no reply yet from the local council's Leisure Department, who, I've been told, are responsible for dealing with this serious issue, presumably by organising a 'bring your own concrete' party in the seafront car park.
Meanwhile it's come to my attention that the last remaining vestige of the Pleasurama amusement park, which used to occupy what is now wasteland at the bottom of the cliff, is still doggedly clinging to the very concrete facade that is in danger of cascading into the English Channel. This, once illuminated, clown still looks out to sea with his cheeky grin, a semi-circle of lights between his upturned hands which, in days long past, used to illuminate in sequence to give the effect that he was juggling.
Over in Margate, they only this week removed the illuminated Dreamland sign which had graced their formerly famous amusement park for decades, and carted it off to a bonfire in Herne Bay.
So today I'm starting a campaign to save Ramsgate's Pleasurama heritage. We could even rope in Scottie and his dilithium crystals, perhaps he could get the thing working again.
Actually it's nothing to do with nostalgia. I just think that there couldn't be a more appropriate tribute to our borough engineer than a solitary, ball-juggling clown on a crumbling cliff.