Monday, July 31, 2006

Mayoral Chains

Now that The Mayor and I are on cordial speaking terms, it's time for a spot of mutual admiration.

I must say, I thoroughly approve of his plan to chain himself, like a kind of muncipal David Blaine, to Albion House as a way of stopping the developers' bulldozers. If he can give me enough notice, I'll try and get some of my TV pals to come down to Ramsgate and cover it.

Now all we need is a nickname, something that will catch on with the red tops. Steve 'Mental' Ward, The Crazy Campaigning Councillor, perhaps?

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Carnival Knowledge

A kind of rhythmic pounding, accompanied by lots of shouting and waving, and a ringing in the ears, if the parade that's just passed the CTM is anything to go by.

What a hoot! And my erstwhile critic, The Mayor, even returned my cheery 'hello'! Ah, accepted into Ramsgate society at last!

Manston: Can We Have Bombs Too, Please?

As you know, I'm not much of a one for politics, but it's come to my attention that the Septics are using Glasgow Prestwick Airport as a staging post for shipping bombs to the Middle East.

As Glasgow Prestwick is run by those nice people Infartil, who also run our local Manston Kent London Ramsgate International Airport, and as our council tax has gone some way to propping them up, I think it's only fair that our local economy should also benefit from this lucrative business.

And after all, we've got to be closer to the Middle East than Glasgow, surely?

A Bang And A Wimple

Another splendid event down on the front last night, albeit that some of the millionaires there seemed more interested in the turps than Terpsichore. Mind you, most of the time I seemed to be standing next to a holy sister in civvies whose idea of going a bit wild was to take another sip from her bottle of Volvic.

Nuntheless I did, as promised on the flyer, find myself transported to Columbia by the latino rhythm, totally unaided by any of that white powder so many of my showbiz colleagues seem to require to transport themselves further than their front room.

And I've woken up this morning as fresh as a daisy, with only a slight punny feeling marring my otherwise harmonious equilibrium.

Hats off to everyone at the Eastcliff Richpeople's Association for putting on such a splendid bash!

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Slow Boat To Margate

I see a German fellow has just been jailed for attempting to offload a catamaran full of illegal Chinese immigrants in Margate Harbour.

I'd be the first to condemn this sort of thing. Apparently the scumbag was charging these poor people 3,000 smackeroons apiece for the trip. And, of course, he neglected to tell them that there's a whole load more regeneration going on in China than there is in Margate. Far from bringing his human cargo to a promised land where they could savour the sweet smell of success, in actuality he was shipping them to a destination which features nothing but the foul stench of failure.

But you have to admire his ingenuity. I mean, when was the last time any sort of boat attempted to moor in the Arsonists' Playground? I wasn't aware the 'harbour' there actually contained any 'water' at all these days. Had he, in teutonically meticulous fashion, fitted wheels to his catamaran, thus inventing the caravanamaran?

I think we should be told.

Friday, July 28, 2006

Going Through The Motions

Intrigued by my glimpse of Boredstares last night, and having a Victorian bathing costume handy, I thought I'd toddle over to Viking Bay for a dip this afternoon.

I wonder what that brown froth that floats on the surface of the water over there consists of? Nadgers Old Wobbly? Shredded pig bladders? Ground up txun-txuns, perhaps?

Strike A Light!

An urgent mission to borrow a Victorian bathing costume last night brought me my first nocturnal glimpse of the new Boredstares Illuminations.

Cripes! I thought all those killjoys who've been writing to the local papers complaining they were garish must have been exaggerating, but not a bit of it. I wouldn't be surprised if they invite Jimmy Cricket to turn them on next year, and make mushy peas compulsory in all the town's restaurants. What next? A small, but perfectly formed effigy of the Eiffel Tower on Preacher's Knoll?

Still, at least we now know who nicked all the pretty bulbs from our harbour arches here in the Millionaires' Playground.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Clowns Chosen For Turnip Centre

I see the powers that be have appointed those nice circus people David Chipperfield to design the new, new Anthea Turner Centre over in Arsongate.

Now that the gallery-cum-car park has been re-positioned 'onshore', I don't suppose it matters too much that everything will be housed in a large tent. Plus it'll give the ball jugglers at Margate police station somewhere nice and handy to practice their dark arts.

By the way, call me cynical and nitpicking, but when the old, new Turnip Centre was canned back in February, I thought that man with the ruddy face from Kent County Council said there would be a cost ceiling of £12m on the new, new centre, which would open in 2008. Now a figure of £15m is being bandied about, and an opening date of 2009.

Oh well, you've got to allow a few million for 'mission creep', I suppose.

Caption Competition - That's Enough Captions

Thanks for all the captions. I think we've had all we're going to get, especially given the sweltering nature of the weather, and the fact that everyone's gone to the beach.

All the comments were to a very high standard, I thought, but the one that tickled me most was Dane Valley Ted's: "And may I thank Victoria Beckham for extending the hand of friendship to the people of Thanet."

So if DVT, or The Hairy Branflake as he's known in these parts, would care to email me at with the address of his static caravan (I believe he's from Margate), I'll arrange for a bottle of bubbly to be delivered toute de suite.

And if anyone else has any candid shots of our local twitterati, do pop them on an email to me so that they too can be mocked mercilessly.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Bristol Scream

Just back from an awayday in Bristol, filming an insert about vasectomies for the hum-ti-tum-a-thon. I'm afraid that the line: "Wearing tight underpants day and night for a week will help reduce the swelling" had me and the entire crew in, er, stitches, so to speak, so the whole thing took quite a bit longer than expected.

By the way, I'm very impressed with the standard of entries in my Sandy Beach Caption Comp (see below), keep them coming! I'm surprised, though, that no-one has yet come up with a line that includes the word 'rug'.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Caption Competition

One of my readers spotted our ruggedly handsome local council leader Sandy Beach out and about recently.

Preparing to step up to the microphone to deliver one of his gripping, four hour speeches, our Sandy has clearly received body language training from the John Wayne/Tony B/George W school of 'power standing'.

In my usual spirit of overwhelming generosity, I'm offering a bottle of bubbly from my own cellar (Waitrose) for the reader who, in the opinion of the judges (me) comes up with the best caption by the end of the week. Please limit your contributions to mocking jocularity, tempered with biting sarcasm.

To get you started, I've come up with this:

"And so, without further ado, I declare this Turner Centre... bollocks, wrong speech...

"And so, without further ado, I declare this newly revitalised amusement park... bollocks, bollocks...

"And so, without further ado, I declare this..." etc. etc.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Your Cut-Out-And-Keep ECR Guide To Davros-Style Undercarriages

Many of the locals on the Ile de Thanet appear to be propelled by means of Davros-style undercarriages (see ECR passim). Some of them can be quite nippy, and I'm sure it'll only be a matter of time before Jeremy Clarkson is endorsing them during commercial breaks on The History Channel.

Having undertaken some research into the subject on behalf of my aged Uncle Ralph, who has himself recently expressed a desire to career around Tescos like a whippet on amphetamines, here's my guide to the choice on offer:

'The Blair' - highly manoeuverable in both forward and reverse, will go anywhere using voice activation (requires Texan accent).

'The Prescott' - leather seated luxury travel, plus squeals of delight from the kids as you engage 'bucking bronco' mode.

'The Levy' - let this little beauty 'do the honours' for you! And the price is right at only £40m!

'The Cameron' - this solar-powered version is the ultimate green choice (in blue only, with detachable hood).

'The Menzies The Merciless' - for those who want to keep a low profile, this one comes with its own Harry Potter style cloak of invisibility. Replaces previous ethanol-fuelled model.

(That's enough Davros-style undercarriages - Ed.).

Nasty Comments

Like Man Eating Sausage, I seem to have come out in a nasty rash of spambot comments recently.

To save the bother of deleting them every time, I've turned on word verification. It's a bit more hassle, but it does at least offer the frisson of the random letter generator coming up with a rude word every now and then. Enjoy!

Wrist Watch

No time to blog over the weekend, I've been busy rehearsing for the UK's first ever Masturbate-a-thon.

When Bev, my agent, originally asked me if I'd be interested in guesting at this rather unusual charity fund raiser, I thought she was pulling my plonker. Now it turns out I'll be pulling it myself.

Still, it's all for a good cause, and in the best possible taste, and, needless to say, Channel 4 will be making a documentary about it, so there'll be a bit of exposure there, too.

So do come and join in the fun on the 5th of August. Unless you're not feeling yourself, that is.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Thanet Is Beautiful...

...Let's Keep It That Way!

Thanet Is Beautiful...

...Let's Keep It That Way!

CCC The Difference

Phew! Finally managed to work out how to use this new Del Boy laptop I picked up in Canterbury yesterday. I opted for the Del Boy because, well, there are times when even millionaires ask themselves 'Why pay more?'.

Afterwards I stopped for a spot of lunch. What a charming city! Heaps of people everywhere, a street market, buskers, but not a discarded White Lightning tin or casually deposited barker's nest to be seen. And no sign of any nonsense 'Canterbury Is Beautiful' PR campaign, either.

It seems their amenities are run by a company called Serco, and a jolly splendid job they appear to be making of it, too. Perhaps, partly as a consequence, the high street was thriving, with a huge diversity of smart shops and cafes, all doing a roaring trade. I mean, it can't all be because the Archbish lives there, can it?

Sadly here on the Ile de Thanet, despite poaching a number of Richards from Canterbury, all our council can currently muster is a few banners imploring us to keep the place clean, and Sandy Beach's irregular rubbish rounds.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006


Billicks to this. Niw thi 'I' is in thi fritz. Tiny's right, I'm iff ti PC Wirld!

A Load Of Richards

I'm finding it difficult to blog without an 'O', but I'll try anyway.

Out and about last night, I got talking to our local hop wizard Mr Gadd, who's now practising his hoppy magic out on Pyson's Road, and doing famously by all accounts. During our chat, it was also plain that said Gadd is a bit of a fan of my blog, and was not backward in hinting that our town's anonymous blogman was known to him.

Sadly I had to put him straight, and inform him I was not the jolly chap in a 2CV who plays a guitar.

Soo! Who noods an 'O'? Blast.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Koyboard Playor

What a disastor! I loft my laptop out in tho consorvatory this morning, and tho sun was so hot it's moltod won of tho koys. Roading this, pooplo must think I'vo got a spooch impodimont or somothing.

As you can probably toll, it's tho 'O' koy that's tho problom.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Birds On The Bleach

Walking along the back streets earlier, I came across a notice in one of the shop windows imploring us Ramsgate millionaires to do whatever we can to eradicate the horrendous seagull problem round here (see ECR passim).

"Three cheers!" I thought. What should I do?

'Always keep your rubbish bags in a plastic, bird proof bin.' Sensible.

'Only bring out your rubbish bags on the morning of collection.' Hurrah.

'Once you've brought your rubbish bags out onto the pavement, spray them with cheap bleach. This will deter the seagulls from pecking them open.'

Good advice. Most of the seagulls in the Millionaires' Playground have developed such expensive tastes that spraying our rubbish bags with a premium bleach like Domestos would only introduce them to a whole new flavour experience.

Sunday, July 16, 2006


Tottering back from yet another evening of overindulgence on Harbour Parade last night, I stumbled across a group of people milling around outside a guest house on one of the East Cliff back streets.

Apparently the B&B had just been burgled, with a number of effects stolen from the room of a German guest. The rozzers had been called a while back, but were still C by their A.

Several phone calls and twenty minutes later, a cop car was seen pulling up miles away at the other end of the street, leaving the distraught proprietor to run after them, and the poor German lady muttering something about the staggering inefficiency of our Boys In Blue. Finally, half an hour after Raffles had presumably had it away on his toes, two of Her Majesty's finest testicle jugglers rocked up to the guest house, with one of them bellowing triumphantly into his radio: "We've found it."

Anyone taking odds on the prospect of the same silly constable ever reporting in: "We've found him"?

Saturday, July 15, 2006

Folking Hell

As the seedy north of the Ile gears up for this weekend's Black Smoke Jazz Festival (sponsors Bryant and May), excitement is also mounting in Broadstairs, where Victorian bathing costumes are about to make way for the thrills and spills of hemp smocks and bladders on sticks.

Yes, the Dickensians are eagerly aniticipating their annual Folk Week, which takes place next month. Around 150,000 men and women with beards are expected to descend on the quaint seaside town, turning the camp site at Upton School into a mini version of Glastonbury, with the waft of illicit drugs such as Old Nutty Shag and Nadger's Dorchester Wobbly permeating the air.

The organisers, Norman and Norma Normal, have given me a sneak preview of some of the highlights:

Ralph Barking has been squeezing his box all over the world since 1923. He has some real treats in store for Broadstairs, including his famous rendition of All Around My Hat, performed atop a hairy midget riding a unicycle (midget tbc).

Gaily adorned in their bowler hats, black breeches and dancing clogs, The Manic Morris Men Of Melton Mowbray will be staging impromptu performances throughout the week, including their world renowned set 'You Ate My Pork Pie You F*cking Bastard' (not suitable for children).

You have to admire their phlegm! The Trondheim Noseflute Choir will be flying in especially for Folk Week. Watch out for their piece de resistance, a 14 hour medley of old favourites, including Blow The Man Down, Colonel Bogey, and Greensleeves.

Friday, July 14, 2006

Atomic Power? Yes Please!

Plans to convert Richborough Power Station into a nuclear power plant received an unexpected boost last night.

Quite by chance, BBC2's excellent Horizon science programme presented new evidence that radiation is actually beneficial, and that, far from running away like screaming ninnies any time a nuclear plant like Chernobyl blows up, we should all bathe in the health-giving rays given off by the melting uranium.

The timing couldn't be better, and I've told my City chum, who's putting together the Richborough bid, to count me in for another half a mill!

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Sex And Drugs And Toilet Roll

A happy half hour spent with Postman Patel this afternoon, listening to his plans to turn his teeny-tiny post office into a supermegamart.

Already stocked with ciggies and booze, he's going to be carrying a variety of household lines, including 'bathroom tissue', and was keen to learn which brand I use.

"You an effing bloody Andrex bloody man or something a bit bloody effing cheaper?" he chirped. "'Cos I'm only effing bloody going to stock a couple of effing brands." I assured him I was strictly Andrex, and that the prospect of applying Izal to the Eastcliff derrière made me wince.

Shooting off on a completely different tack, he then proceeded to explain how many prostitutes there are in the area. "They don't effing stay in one effing bloody place, they bloody move around."

Well, a Millionaire's Playground is bound to attract an underclass, I suppose, and at least it seems they're giving value for money.

The Rough With The Smoothie

Went for a toddle around the harbour yesterday, and ended up at the Smoothie Shack, by the East Cliff lift.

Feeling a trifle thirsty, the prospect of a fruit smoothie was very tempting, and at £2.50 for just over an eggcupful, it looked like an absolute bargain. But one sip of the banana and coconut concoction, and I almost choked up my spare change. The thing was full of husk.

Perhaps someone should let them know that it's the white part of the coconut that goes in the blender.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Eastcliff Richborough

I notice that übercodger Angina, and my old mucker Ram Skate, have been banging on about the Pleasurama development today.

Quite by chance, it ties in with a little offer that's come my way via one of my City chums.

With 4,513 luxury apartments being built on the charred remains of the former funfair, there's going to be quite a draw on the National Grid. Now that Tone has waved the, er, green flag at all those nuclear Johnnies, I've been offered the chance to jump on the investment bandwagon. The plan is to re-open Richborough as a nuclear power station, and cash in!

It should be a little uranium mine, unless those garlic munchers at EDF get the contract to run it and coq it all up. Still, if they do, look on the bright side. The benefits of glowing in the dark will more than compensate for their inability to install a decent public lighting system round here!

What A Difference A 'K' Makes

Re-installed at the CTM, there's no sign of the twins or Mr Kharkov.

More worryingly, my Rolex Oyster (Whitstable Edition) has vanished, as has a large sum from my Coutts account.

Naturally I've called the rozzers, who say there's been a spate of this in the local area over the past few years. Apparently another bunch of Uranians recently hopped it with £8m, having convinced everyone on the Ile that they were going to use it to build a Turnip Centre.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Catch It Day

What a gruelling shoot.

But the location was superb - huge mansion, overlooking the heath, with an Olympic size indoor swimming pool! They must be going for a very upmarket clientele! No wonder they wanted me to star!

Only problem was, it was blazing hot, and what with all the lights, the purrer's nests, which the props boys had carefully crafted out of Blu Tac, began to melt. And I think they'd rather overdone the scale of them, they looked more like U blockers to me.

Come to think of it, the director was a bit crabby as well, and insisted on referring to me as 'the meat puppet'. As I was leaving, he muttered something which sounded awfully like: "No matter how much I polish this turd, the stench will haunt me for the rest of my career." No, I probably misheard.

Never mind. Luxury lodgings tonight, then a pootle down the M2 in the morning. I'm off to the bar for a couple of glasses of Krug!

Clot To Trot

Sitting here in my five star hotel in Swiss Cottage last night, I happened to catch a glimpse of 'Only Fools On Horses'. Which spotty herbert at the BBC dreamt that one up? Poor old Angus Deayton looks like he's having about as much fun as if he were watching Messrs Hislop and Merton deliver his funeral oration.

The way these people dream up these programmes these days. "Oh, that would be a clever title for a show. Now, let's see, what would it be about?"

It's so simple, even I can do it:

Only Tools And Courses - ten Z-list celebrities compete to win the title of Plumber Of The Year
Only Jewels And Houses - ten Z-list celebrities compete to win the title of Burglar Of The Year
Lonely Mules And Horses - ten Z-list celebrities compete to win the title of Donkey Breeder Of The Year
Cannon And Ball - after a period of intense training, Bobby Ball is actually fired out of Tommy Cannon's backside. Kills two Z-list celebrities with one stone.

I mean, what a load of old pony. Anyway, moustache now, as I'm due on location in Hampstead.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Shooting Off

Mr Kharkov appeared to be delighted when I showed him how my Coutts account works. He's now shot off to London with the twins, something about doing some shopping in Bond Street.

Suits me, as I've got to dash up to 'The Village' myself tomorrow, for the Catch It In A Bag shoot. I've been rehearsing the script. My pay-off is: "You can't get rid of me that easily, but now you can get rid of this that easily." Neat, eh?

I wonder what the props boys are going to use for purrer's nests?

Old Brown Eye Is Back

Just before I nip out to the bank with Mr Kharkov, I ought to mention that Ram Skate Raider is back on the scene, this time with his own blog, Thanet Eye.

I expect he'll be poking Thanet in the eye frequently, and with a very sharp stick. I therefore advise sensitive, wilting types in teeny-tiny planes to plot a course around it.

Anyone, though, who likes a bit of a laugh, and isn't offended by words like 'bottom' and 'biggies', should head straight there for Ram Skate's potent cocktail of grin and tonic (with the occasional 'twat' thrown in for good measure).

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Two's Company

Decided to hire an MPV for the airport run in the end. Glad I did, the twins and Mr Kharkov seem to have brought an awful lot of luggage for a weekend break.

Still, they were very impressed by the CTM, and have decided that we're all going to eat out tonight. Mr Kharkov doesn't say much, but he did perk up a bit after he'd taken the TT out for a spin, and he wants to talk about some financial business tomorrow. Apparently he needs my advice.

I expect I'll be tied up for the next day or two, so dosvidania!

Saturday, July 08, 2006

Twinternational Relations

I've spent all afternoon exchanging emails with the twins, and have even spoken to them on the phone. They seem awfully keen to meet me, and have offered to drop everything and come right away if I pay the fare.

So I'm going to meet them at Heathrow tomorrow. Might lead to a bit of a squeeze in the TT, though, especially as they insisted that their chaperone, Mr Kharkov, comes with them.

They Leave The West Behind!

This is a snap of Galinka doing a bit of shopping in one of the Ukraine's many high class fashion stores. Hasn't she got great taste? Love the cool shades!

And here's Galechka, photographed at the Ukraine's top night spot 'Murkins' (posed with mannequin).

The Ukraine Girls Really Knock Me Out

Well I've had a look at Galinka and Galechka's website now, and it turns out they're based in the Ukraine!

Here's a picture of them, along with another lady who's name begins with 'G', enjoying the baking hot sunshine and glorious beaches of their mother country.

Not quite sure what gangly England striker Peter Crouch is doing there with them, though.

Home Alone

There's a faint whiff of Nobby No Mates around the old Cliff Top Mansion this morning. Elton's on tour, and Angela's preoccupied with the bottom half of a Georgian she picked up in Hastings.

I even rang my 'wife' and 'kids' to invite them round for tea and Millionaire Shortbread. They said they'd be delighted, as long as I paid them the day rate.

But all is not lost. As if in answer to my prayers, not one, but two emails have arrived from a couple of very respectable sounding ladies, Galinka and Galechka. They must be twins, because they've written the same thing in both their emails. Here's a sample:

"There's love to God, to Mother, to a child, to the country where you were born, and there's the love that joins a man and a woman for all their life. And I'm seeking for the man who is also eager to have this life long adventure full of surprises and new experience we can share together! Will you join me for this trip?"

They want to get to know me better, and have supplied a web address where I can read some more information about them and see some pictures. I think I'll take a look, and then perhaps invite them round for a couple of glasses of Dom!

Friday, July 07, 2006

Lights Out For Summer

Apologies to Alice Cooper, but I'm sure that's what he would have sung if he lived in Ramsgate and saw that there's only one of the attractive blue lights working in the arches on Royal Parade.

If you need confirmation, Little Weed has quite fortuitously provided the evidence in a picture of her big night out during the Powerboat Weekend.

I've been on to Scottie, that chap with dilithium crystals in his jocks, and he's passed on a request for one of his engineer colleagues to look into it.

Let's hope it's not the one who beams down with Kirk, Spock and the rest of the gang, only to be eaten by an alien resembling a rubber fried egg within the first two minutes.

It's A Boy!

Interesting story in this week's Adscene about nursery boss William Friend, who's discovered a rare orchid in his garden in Margate.

Good to see that the picture desk over in Gazunder Towers have their mind on the job!

Thursday, July 06, 2006


Smoking underpants! This is the seventh time I've been to the blog today! Sod's Law, isn't it? Nothing happens for weeks, and then everything pours out all at once.

I'll probably be bunged up tomorrow. Blogger's Block.

Night all.

Browned Off

I'm not usually one for the soaps, but I happened to get a glimpse of EastEnders last night, as my 'wife', Stacey, was due to walk past Martin's stall again.

I have to say, I nearly fell off my seat. What on earth have the make-up department done to poor old Wendy Richards? She looks as if she's been creosoted.

I can only assume that the person who used to Tango Huw Edwards every night has transferred to the ongoing drama department.

Green Light For Ramsgate MegaSuperhighway

BBC South East news is reporting that Steve Ladyboy, our local MP and Minister For Tranny Sport, has given the go-ahead for the proposed £3bn, 14 lane superhighway from Ramsgate to, um, Sandwich.

This will bring the centres of Europe and beyond within less than an hour's drive from my front door, via the Channel Tunnel.

With more than a hundred daily international flights from Kent London Manston International Airport, bullet trains whisking us to the metropolis in less time than it takes to boil an egg, and hourly ferries to the Mediterranean, it's no wonder that Ramsgate will soon be taking its rightful place, along with London, Paris and New York, as a world city, and home to top cosmetics firms like L'Oreal.

Past Their Sell By Dates 2

Yet another Margate pizza company has dropped a menu through the letterbox with the front page exhortation: 'Come On England! Bring It Home!' Must have been a job lot.

Come on chaps, surely it's time to make a bonfire of them? You must have had plenty of practice over there in The Smoke/Dawn's Crack!

Disgusta Road

I haven't finished with the gull talk yet.

I've just toddled over to Postman Patel's teeny-tiny post office, and the state of Augusta Road is quite appalling! Every Thursday it looks like a landfill site. The bin bags come out, the Tomato Gulls peck their fill, and then The Uranians come round later to cart away what's left. Leaving, of course, the fourteen tons of rotting crap that's been spewed across the pavements until the geezer with the picky-up stick slouches round tomorrow.

I thought The Uranians were going to introduce wheelie bins shortly? I presume 'shortly' equals around twelve earth years on Uranus.

Gull Tea Party

Herring Gulls? Is that what they call them? I've yet to witness any of the pesky blighters scoffing a herring.

Tomato Gulls, yes. Tea Bag Gulls, yes. Kentucky Fried Chicken Gulls, yes. But Herring Gulls? Do me a favour!

Potts Stuff

I see that Doreen Potts (Mrs) has left a comment in her own inimitable style. What an honour to have yet another celebrity casting an eye over my fevered mumblings!

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Elton's Gone

He zipped off in his Lambo a few minutes ago.

Now, let's get back to Normal/Norman/Norma. Fact is, there isn't a Normal/Norman/Norma. I made it all up. There's just me and Bertie.

Well, that's not strictly true either. The 'Catch It' people said they'd prefer me to appear in their ads with a family. So they've supplied one. Just for the shoot, you understand. Stacey - she's my 'wife' - was in EastEnders once, walking past Martin's fruit and veg stall. And the two kids come from Central Casting.

Nice bunch, but I wouldn't want to take them home with me, if you know what I mean.

Elton's John

Thank heavens for a spot of light relief. Elton's nipped over in the Lambo, as he's having his septic tank drained, and always likes to be well away from his country manor when that's happening.

I'm always impressed when I visit his place. He's got a very good eye for the subtle touches. For example, the way the ensuite music system plays 'Candle In The Wind' when you're visiting one of his many 'throne rooms'. Posh!

Norman Is An Island

It seems Norman's got the hump, and won't be blogging today as planned. Or speaking to me at all. Something to do with me calling him Norma. Or was it something to do with me calling her Norman. I'm confused.


Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Potty Suggestion

I've become aware of the fact that in certain circles the suggestion has been made that I've been masquerading as a certain Doreen Potts (Mrs).

Whilst I can understand the confusion, given Mrs Potts's beautifully crafted acerbic comments, I can categorically say that I am not, was never, and never will be the aforementioned Gay Times icon. Neither am I Julian Clary, who's just moved to a mansion in Kent, or Paul O'Grady, blogging from his sick bed in Ashford General.

To scotch the rumours that my camp brand of lovable seaside humour is anything other than superficial, I will shortly be introducing a new member of the Eastcliff Richard team, my wife Norman.

Past Their Sell By Dates

Most of the England flags have disappeared from most of the M reg Mondeos around here, but connoisseurs of collectables can still pick up a 'Believe' Mars Bar if they're quick. Rumour has it that the Slough-based confectioner has already dispatched several million 'Make' stickers to bring them up to date.

However, The Wayne Rooney Prize For Perfect Timing has to go to Samo's Pizza in Arsongate, who crammed their World Cup Special menu through the CTM letterbox on Sunday, the day after England's defeat by Portugal. 'Good Luck England! Bring It Home!' scream Samo's, in a 94th minute attempt to cash in on World Cup fever.

Or perhaps they're suggesting that there'll always be a place for the England team at Samo's, bringing plenty of pizzas to many a Thanet home?

Monday, July 03, 2006

Pick Of The Week

Here's the first in a new weekly series for all my Thanet readers, in which I pick the best products and services advertised in all the local papers and free sheets. I've called it 'Pick Of The Week'!

Ever had one of those nightmares that you're falling from a great height? The Ramsgate Sleep Centre has the perfect answer - Memory Foam Beds And Matresses! Memory Foam was originally developed as part of the NASA Space Programme 'to reduce the effects of G-forces on the astronauts in space flight'. Should also come in handy when it's time for blast off, if you get my drift!

Need a new drive? Tired of builders taking the piss? Then call Wee-mix! They bring it with them.

If you're at a loose end next Saturday or Sunday, why not go to the Quex Park Horse Show And Country Fayre? The bucolic fun will include sheep dog and falconry displays, and the ever-popular 'Ferret Roulette', in which two sturdy yokels take it in turns to don trousers from a number of pairs, only one of which conceals the aforementioned ferocious member of the polecat family.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

Cannes Do

Oh alright then, I am going soft. With Harbour Parade pedestrianised, the cafes spilling out onto the streets, and the glorious sunshine, one might have imagined oneself transported to the south of France in Ramsgate today.

Though come to think of it I don't recall seeing as many floppy man-breasts or arse-crack tattoos on display along the Croisette.

Tow Jam

A beautiful day for the fiesta down at the harbour. I'm surprised, though, that gay icon/Dolly Parton impersonator Mandy Winters isn't doing a turn, given that her fiancé, Thanet Council Chairman Jeff Kirkpatrick, does the honours by introducing the printed programme.

But not to worry, plenty of old favourites are there, including The Chocolate Volcano, and the flying doctor, towing a banner which appeared to read: 'DON'T DRINK AND ODEON'.

Must be something to do with local by-laws appertaining to the consumption of alcoholic beverages in cinemas.

Surrounded By Engines

The gentile peace of the old Cliff Top Mansion was shattered this morning by a frightful din. Those powerboat Johnnies make quite a racket, don't they?

Still, I was relieved to discover that the painful throbbing had not been brought on by the two bottles of Krug, chased down by several pints of the Gaddfather's finest, which I imbibed last night. Judging by the previous post, the combination would appear to be the perfect recipe for turning one into a sentimental old twat.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

England 0 Ramsgate 1

Well the footie went horribly wrong again, didn't it?

But on the brighter side, the partée on the harbour tonight was a triumph. Where else could you witness two semi-naked Rooney lookalikes jumping on top of each other to the sounds of 'I Will Survive'?

Maybe, as some commentators have suggested, I've gone soft since I returned from the Caymans, but, really, I'm not too proud to admit it, I'm welling up!

Dead Good!

Had a great time yesterday at London Calling 2006, the music biz convention.

Great new singers.

Great new DJs.

And The Grateful Dead playing in the hall next door!