Name Game

The quest for famous Thanetonians continues. So far there's been some pretty good suggestions, along with one or two ho-hums.

Pursuing my obsessions on the internet just now, I came across this fellow on the Internet Movie Database. Do you think we should make him an honorary member?

Jingle Bells, Batman Smells

As usual at this time of year I'm inundated with work, spoilt for choice, cup runneth over, etc.

So far, Bev, my agent, has me pencilled for Widow Twankey at the Neasden Hippodrome, as I can't say I'm really tempted by the other offer, to take part in a revival of Celebrity Squares for Nigerian TV.

There's also a possibility of appearing in costume in a Yuletide capacity at the Hempstead Valley Retail Park. I've looked it up on the web, but it doesn't sound too savoury, judging by the history section:

Village ‘characters’ abounded in Hempstead. There was John Hoare, a toothless, one eyed old manned, dressed summer or winter in a dark felt hat and raincoat. He lived in a little wooden hut in a cherry orchard. Then there was Dirty Gert, who lived in a dolls house-sized one bedroom bungalow and produced a new baby every year.

Yikes! If I was into that kind of thing, I'd be better off applying for the job of Margate Town Sergeant!

Having A Quick Rank

One of my commentators has been less than glowing about the desirability of living in Thanet. And one of my detractors has described the Ile as 'at the edge of teh known world.'

So to redress the balance, and assuage those people with the baseball bats who insist I'm bad for Ile's image, I've ranked the ten greatest living Thanetonians. Here they are in order:

1. Me (of course)
2. CutieMish
3. Brenda Blethyn
4. Brenda Blethyn's Mum
5. Timothy Spall (often spotted eating ham and cheese sandwiches in Margate)
6. Ray Winstone (always banging on about Margate) (and breakfast cereals)
7. Tracey Eminem (Head Bedhead and Liver Whittler)
8. Ronnie Corbett (runs kiosk on East Cliff)
9. The Fat Bloke From Bad Manners
10. Kate Moss's Daughter's Grandparents
11. Barmy Army Chief Sir Richard Donut (went to school in Ramsgate)
12. Former Met Head Sir John Stevens (also went to school in Ramsgate)
13. Tom Hanks (not 100% about this one)

Blimey, I've excelled myself. Although maybe I've scraped the barrel a bit with one or two of them.

Of course, a quick stroll around the graveyard exhumes yet more alumni:

Charles Dickens
The Plug-ins (Ralph and Nigel)
B.M.W Turner (custom paint jobs)
Ted Heath
Frank Muir
Karl Marx (came here to cure his boils)
Mr Pfizer (came here to boil his cures)
Queen Victoria
Arthur Lowe
John Le Measurier
Eric Morecambe (got married in Margate)
Ronnie Biggs (came to Margate for the smell)

On second thoughts, I don't think the last one's croaked yet. Sorry Ronnie. (Cripes, I think I'm in deeper trouble now. Where's Fat Kev when you need him?)

Pick-A-Dicky Circus

The Gazunder's Smudger reports the recent contretemps between myself and Dr Morose, and ends by saying 'presumably it has nothing to do with the rather coarse description ('Steaming Great Tw*t' ©2006 Ram Skate Raider) of Dr Moores which was carried on the front page of the Eastcliff Matters blog for some time.'

Eastcliff Matters? Eastcliff Matters?? Either Smudger's conducting a fishing expedition to catch the real me, or it's a Freudian slip, and they've actually convinced themselves I'm the viridescent one!

I don't think Councillor G would be too happy with that.

By the way, where have the councillor's links to other Thanet bloggers gone? And he hasn't commented on anyone else's blog for weeks. Do you think he's been got at again by the council's self-appointed censor? I think we should be told.

Teenage Kicks

Kuh! I don't know, it seems anyone can be a celebrity these days. Thanks to something called 'YouTube', even teenage Thanetonians are getting in on the act.

CutieMish, an 18 year old schoolgirl from Ramsgate, has had more than 4,000,000 viewings for her short clips featuring such exciting plot lines as 'CutieMish plays the theme from Tetris badly on an out of tune piano' and 'CutieMish reads out a list of words'.

It's all very innocent in a coquettish kind of way, but I'm sure the minx knows what she's doing. Judging by the comments you can almost hear the sound of Kleenex boxes being ripped open in young boys' bedrooms all across the States. They just love her Ramsgate accent!

Still, with nearly a million hits and over 3,000 comments for her first posting alone, it makes some people's claims to be the most popular Thanet attraction on the internet seem rather lame. And puts the lie to Ramsgate being 'at the edge of teh known world'!

Luxury Yachts Cause Of 'Shrivelled Penis Syndrome' Say Scientists

by Isle of Thanet Gazunder Staff

It's official! Owning a large yacht can lead to a diminished manhood!

The effect first came to light following a survey of over 1,000 women in Thanet who had dated men with cruisers moored in Ramsgate harbour. More than 70% agreed that they had been treated to undersized portions in the captain's cabin.

Now marine eggheads have discovered that local sea life is also becoming genitally challenged, and have concluded that toxic paint used to coat the underside of Ramsgate's floating gin palaces is the cause.

And they've even named the condition after the area in which it was first detected - 'Dumpton Syndrome'!


A quick survey conducted by the Gazunder at Dumpton Gap confirmed the report's findings. Asked whether he'd noticed anything unusual in the trunks department, one male swimmer braving the chilly October waters said: "I'll tell you when I find it."

Google search: Dumpton Syndrome

Are you taking the mick? Ed.

Moving Experience

An anonymous caller has rung to inform me that 'certain people' have decided that I'm 'bad for the island' because I'm 'projecting the wrong image'.

Apparently the main gripe is that my humble jottings rank highly when you're searching in Google for things like:

Ramsgate Millionaire
Sandy Beach Pleasurama
and
Margate Giant Arse

The same 'certain people' have also suggested that I close my blog and get out of town if I know what's good for me. So taking the rather obvious hint, yesterday I fired up the old TT and went on the hunt for alternative seaside properties.

First stop was Hastings, where I viewed this quaint little pied-a-terre:


Not bad. Trouble is, Hastings is a bit shabby, and their lido is now a car park. It's a shame, as I was rather hoping that I could spend some quality time watching men with wooden legs set fire to themselves and dive off the high board into the deep end.

More luck in Great Yarmouth, though, where the Hippodrome still puts on a show involving scantily-clad ladies swimming around in a pool full of ping-pong balls. This place is on for 500 grand, and has terrific sea views:


Still not my cup of tea, though. It's the priciest thing they've got, and to tell you the truth 'Great Yarmouth - The New Half-Millionaires' Playground' doesn't quite have the same ring, does it?

Feeling Myself Again

Phew, what a kerfuffle! I'm glad that's all over. And thanks to those nice people at the Royal Free, I've got my old face back, although they tell me I'll be on identity suppressants for the rest my natural.

My security adviser, Fat Kev, was of the opinion that Dr You-Know-Who could probably have got a print off that previous photo and cross-matched it with his worldwide database. Not to mention the handwriting. You never know, he's probably even had his Dulux colour chart out, trying to match the paint in the background.

Nope, I'm a new, old man, I'm glad to say.

So, millions from the government to have nuclear waste dumped under your high street, eh? That's got to be an offer Margate can't afford to refuse!

Breaking News - BBC Apologises

I've just received an email from the BBC journalist who claimed he hadn't told Dr Biggles anything he didn't already know by revealing that I had personally recorded and disguised the ECR contribution for the BBC Radio Kent feature on blogging.

I pointed out to him that the exact words he had used in his piece to describe my contribution were 'His voice has been disguised', not 'He has recorded and disguised his voice himself'. Here's what he now says:

I apologise. I thought I had used different words. I'm certainly not trying to give your game away to Simon and would never identify anyone directly - if that person's wish has been to remain anonymous. I don't believe my disclosing that your [or someone else's] voice had been disguised by yourself, rather than by me, goes any way towards infringing any editorial guidelines, nor does significantly help any listener to determine your true identity. If you believe I have in some way stepped over the mark, I can pass on a formal complaint to our lawyers.

So what do you reckon? Should I get m'learned friends involved? You decide!

Get A Life

With all the recent frantic antics round here, I've decided to quit the rat race and get a Second Life. Or maybe it's my third or fourth life, depending on who you talk to.

Only trouble is, you have to pick a last name from the list they provide, so I've ended up as Eastcliffrichard Warburton.

Now all I've got to do is buy some, er, bread, man, and find my way out of this desert they stick newbies in.

Fingered

Yikes! Dr Biggles is now threatening to put out a reward for anyone who can name me.

He also says he's going to get his team of hot hackers to track down my real name from my Internet Service Provider. Although my wolf pack of highly paid lawyers would soon be round to knock on my ISP's, and Dr Biggles's, doors if he tries that one.

Meantime, I thought I'd reveal one of my favourite bits of me myself, if you get my drift. It's my middle finger.

BBC Responds

In response to my complaint to the BBC objecting to them leaking my identity to all and sundry, I have received the following email from the journalist concerned:

I have not told Simon (First name terms, eh?) anything he didn't already know. Even my radio piece said that your contribution was a result of your voice being disguised. Listeners could therefore assume that you disguised your own voice. (Bit of an assumption, I would have thought.)

Simon came to me (What, in a vision of loveliness???) wondering if it was indeed my voice, having played around with his new software. (Careful you don't go blind, Simon.) I simply said no, it was yours, disguised by yourself. That's not giving anyone a piece of any jigsaw, that's merely reiterating what should have been very obvious from the start. (Eh?)

The fact that he thought the voice was mine means that his clever piece of decoding software (Audacity - free on the net if anyone wants it. And it doesn't, in fact, 'de-code' anything, it merely enables you to reverse effects using your own assumptions.) had in fact led him further from the truth than closer to it. (Do what?)

Call me paranoid, but given that 'Simon' is a bit of a 'rent-a-gob' round at BBC Radio Kent, it wouldn't surprise me if this had all been a set-up in the first place. Which is what I had assumed from the very outset.

False Beard

Hah! I've re-anonymised myself! That should put Dr Biggles off the scent.

Cover Blown By BBC

You know me, I'm not one to nitpick, but when the BBC starts blurting out details of anonymous sources to all and sundry, well really, it takes the biscuit!

Here's the story so far:

1. BBC journalist asks me for a contribution to the BBC Radio Kent feature on blogging.
2. I agree on the basis that I remain anonymous and record, edit and disguise the contribution myself, here in my £250,000, state of the art recording studio at the old cliff top mansion.
3. Dr Biggles claims on his blog that he has 'unscrambled' the disguised voice, and publishes the results.
4. I then might have been a bit, er, rash and 're-scrambled' Dr Biggles's contribution thus:



5. OK, pause here to call me petty if you like.
6. Dr Biggles becomes so enraged that he calls the BBC journalist demanding more information about me, and said journalist reveals without batting an eyelid that his anonymous source recorded and disguised his contribution himself!

I know it's not exactly blowing the beans on who I am, but if I was an IRA supergrass I think I'd be a bit hacked off. Or, more likely, a bit would have been hacked off me by now.

Here is what the BBC's own Producer Guidelines say about protecting anonymous sources:

Protecting sources is a key principle of journalism for which some journalists have gone to jail. We must take care when we promise anonymity that we are in a position to honour it, including the need to resist a court order.

'Resisting a court order' presumably doesn't encompass 'Resisting some geezer who rings up and wants to know who it is'. Fortunately, however, there's also a handy tip a few paragraphs later:

We must ensure that if anonymity is necessary it is effective. Both picture and voice may need to be disguised. A "voice-over" by another person is usually better than technically induced distortion, which can be reversed...

Being a belt and braces kind of a guy, I always think it pays to combine both options. And besides, my old mate Barrymore was desperate for the work.

Swallow Migrates

It's such a miserable afternoon here in the Millionaire's Playground that I've taken to flicking through my back issues of The Publican (don't ask).

One story catches my eye. Apparently our local fourteen star hotel, the Swallow Kent International on the harbour, has been under threat since the owners, London and Edinburgh Inns, went into liquidation recently.

Not to worry, though, as the administrators have now managed to flog it, along with a package of other hotels, to a company called Gelink Ltd.

The new owners say that, to differentiate their new offering, the hotel will be renamed the Spit Kent International.

Gawd I must be bored.

New Kid On The Blog

Oops. Might have gone a bit overboard with the last post.

Moving swiftly on, it's good to see Man Eating Sausage (aka Bignews Margate) back from his annual holiday to the Pork Farms pie factory. And it looks as if Lucy Mail is going to start reviewing the local taverns on her Ramsgate Tourettes blog. Good on yer, Lucy! Lucy? Oh dear, she's fallen over again. Perhaps she should get together with Dane Valley Ted, once she's upright, as he's currently looking for tips on the best and worst pubs on the Ile.

And even my old chum Nether Regions has given his blog a makeover, so there's life in the Thanet blogging scene yet.

And for those of you who are missing the late, great, lovely, deeply lamented Ram Skate Raider, that pit bull tugger Eastcliff Thorburn isn't a bad substitute. If you're not of a frail or nervous disposition, that is.

Scrambled Egghead

Flaming parachutes! Dr Biggles thinks he's unscrambled my disguised voice from the BBC Radio Kent feature on blogging.

And now he has the audacity to call me a fraud! Well, two can play at that game.

Unscramble this, fly boy!

Climate Change - Special Report

by Isle of Thanet Gazunder Staff

With climate change top of the agenda at the meeting of EU leaders in Finland this week, how will it affect us here in Thanet?

Average summer temperatures are already several degrees above what they were only a few decades ago, and scientists agree that we could soon see baking 40C+ heatwaves, and standpipes on every street corner.

So we've got together with a crack team of climatologists from the University of Kent to predict how Margate, Ramsgate and the rest of Thanet could change forever over the coming years.


Not all the effects of climate change will be detrimental to the isle. New crops, such as these dates, will replace cabbages and cauliflowers, and farmers will be able to grow delicious Mediterranean style veggies such as tomatoes and peppers.

Even Caribbean crops such as cannabis might be grown outdoors, rather than in bedrooms and industrial estates as at present.


In turn this could lead to a booming trade in exports and tourism for the Port of Ramsgate, seen here in this computer simulation as scientists predict it will look in the year 2100.


However, our scientists predict that hot, Sahara-like winds could spell disaster for the north of the island. Margate's sandy beaches would be blown away, and many of its buildings will spontaneously combust (no change there - Ed). In this computer simulation for the year 2100, only Cliftonville remains inhabited.


Even Margate's famous Winter Gardens will be washed away by rising tides.


But the sheltered south of the island will fare much better, with Ramsgate becoming a top tourist destination to rival the likes of Cannes or Monte Carlo. Here we see how Ramsgate's Main Sands and East Cliff will look in 2100.


International tourism will become such a major part of Ramsgate's economy that the council will be forced to blow dry the beach daily, as they currently do in Italy, to meet international standards.

(That's enough climate change photos - Ed.)

Call Me A Septic

Just caught a report on our local TV news about the delights of Norfolk, Virginia, and how we're all going to be jetting there from RAF London Kent Manston International Airport.

But I'm not so sure the KCC marketing team who've been out there trying to persuade the Yanks to get their rather substantial bums on the return flights have done such a good job.

Asked whether there would be a demand from Americans to sample the delights of the Garden of England, the US travel agent charged with flogging the tickets replied: "Yes, I'm sure they'll want to come and see, for example, Canterbury Castle. Er, Cathedral."

So that they know what they'll be coming to see, I've published a photo of Canterbury Castle Er Cathedral above.

Who Wants To Eat A Meal On Air?

Bev rang to say that Channel 4's resident rocket scientist and borry sniffer Dr Gillian McKeith is planning a celebrity edition of her show, and they're considering me for it.

Frankly I'm not sure if I want that woman going through my motions, but it's a big job, and my profile's currently lower than Ronnie Corbett standing in a very deep trench, so I've said yes.

Besides, what with a diet consisting principally of champagne, truffles and caviar, I should definitely be able to give her a run for her money.

Poetry Corner

In Memoriam
Ram Skate Raider
Popular Blogger

So, Farewell
Then Ram Skate
Raider.

'Steaming
Great twat',
That was
Your catchphrase,
Which got up
The nose
Of Dr Moores.

So much so
That now he's
Buggered off too

Are you by any chance related?

E.C. Richard (27½)

Graffiti Break

If you recall, I'd been wondering what the rozzers had been doing down at Dumpton Gap at 11.30 on Saturday night.

Dr Biggles has the explanation - they appear to have been on the trail of a very dangerous gang of armed graffiti artists.

Let me be the first to congratulate the boys in blue on the apprehension of this 'posse' of lunatic vandals, and retract my earlier insinuation that they should have been concentrating their resources on the drunk drivers, street spewers and random urban urinators on Broadstairs High Street.

I'm sure everyone will agree that we'll all sleep more soundly in our luxury water beds tonight!

Bandstand Set For Blast-Off!

Isle of Thanet Gazunder Exclusive


The East Cliff's new-look, out-of-this-world bandstand is set for blast-off - thanks to a visit from Status Quo!

Several long-haired men, one with a pony tail, were spotted inspecting the bandstand last week. Two of the men bore a striking resemblance to Status Quo legends Rick Parfitt and Francis Rossi! It's thought other members of the party were 'roadies', checking out the venue's fantastic new sound system in preparation for the gig of the century!

Asked whether the Quo would be performing 'Down Down, Deeper and Down' as a tribute to the site's crumbling cliff, a spokeswoman for the wrinkly rockers told the Gazunder: "I don't know what you're talking about."

Gazunder Goes Under

So much for becoming a publishing magnate. Honestly, it would be less hassle to draw the money out in cash, stuff it into black plastic sacks, and proceed straight to the nearest drain.

But you'll be pleased to know I've found jobs for all the Gazunder staff - on the Big Issue. And I've told them if they come up with any scoops, I'd be happy to publish them here.

Religious Experience

Thought I'd swan over the seedy side of town yesterday afternoon, and take a squiz at the Baldwin and Bushell exhibition at Gallery IOTA on the West Cliff.

Mr Bushell's rather eerie paintings appear to be selling like the proverbial hot cakes, with more red dots next to them than you'd find in a measles epidemic. Even Mr Baldwin's mechanical sculptures appear to have been well received, with his huge, rusty donger already snapped up for a few thousand smackers.

As I was toddling back I wondered if there was any way of looking around the imposing flint monastery opposite that architect Plugin's place. Overcome by curiosity, I peeked through the small grate in the door, only to jump out of my skin when a Bede-y eye peeped back. Seconds later the door opened and a very jolly Irish monk emerged for a chat.

Bearing a faint resemblance to Father Ted's friend Father Jack, the only word I could make out was "Anorak", although "Feck", "Arse", "Drink" and "Girls" may have been in there somewhere. Still, it was more enjoyable than the conversation I had with the fellow who emerged rather mysteriously from the Gents across the road brandishing a cup of tea, who tried to bludge 'a couple of quid' off me.

Beach Ball Jugglers

Picture the scene. The mean streets of Broadstairs on a Saturday night. It's 11.30, the pubs are turning out. The sound of drunken revelry and spewing cuts through the October air.

But the Dickensians can sleep soundly in their beds. The cops have got it covered. They know where the trouble spots are. They're poised for action - on the beach at Dumpton Gap.

Well that's where they emerged from in their Kent Police Transit as I was doing a bit of a nocturnal reccie in the Smart Car last night. I can't recall ever seeing anything bigger than a bicycle making it up that steep slope from the Dumpton Gap prom, let alone an enormous van full of Kent's finest.

Judiciously avoiding the horrors of Albion Street on a Saturday night, they turned left up Boredstares High Street, heading straight back to HQ. Needless to say, the convoy of cars packed with beer-sodden youths that were by then behind them pulled over until the coast was clear.

Oakleigh Doakleigh

Nope, Ramsgate is definitely the place to invest, as evidenced by the announcement this week of planning permission for another 6000 luxury apartments and several five star hotels on the old Pleasurama site.

And Oakleigh Developments, those nice people who lovingly restored the Granville here on the East Cliff, this week erected a new, er, sign.





Why not take a look at their website, I thought. It's there on the sign: oakleighdevelopmentsltd.com. Can't see it? No, neither could I. Must be awaiting planning permission.

Although that's not the case with Phase 2 of the Granville development, round the back, which has had planning permission for some time. Ever curious, I thought I'd take to my twin-engined Squirrel, get above the hoardings, and sneak a peak at how things were progressing...



Hmmm... about the same as their website, it would seem.

Property Coldspot

Going over a few curtain swatches with Angela yesterday, she had the barefaced cheek to suggest that Broadstairs was now being tipped as the Ile's property hotspot. Really.

Anyway, it prompted me to have another look, so for this morning's constitutional I took a walk on the Dickensian side. I would have to grudgingly admit that it does have a certain olde worlde appeal. Especially if you're a coffin dodger.

I had to smile, though, when a couple of obvious inward investors walked past, scouting the Ile, cameras at the ready, and one turned to the other with the question: "What's this place called?" Needless to say, his companion returned the enquiry with a blank stare.

Dream Cottage

I've decided that, as part of the renovations here at the old cliff top mansion, a log cabin would be a nice feature in the garden. I can just picture myself, on those balmy summer evenings, sipping a G&T and holding forth on the veranda.

Flicking through some of the local glossy colour supps, I came across an ad which looked promising:



The splendid cabins being advertised include The Alamosa, The San Luis, and The Denver. Last on the list comes:



As you can see, it's at a rock bottom price, and despite being a millionaire, I'm always on the lookout for a bargain.

And where can I purchase The Broke Back?



Why, none other than Johnsons of Whitstable, of course!

Monet Monet Monet

I see my old pal and interior designer Claude Monet has been commenting on my blog, so I've put up a picture of one of the daubs he did for the new extension at my cliff top mansion.

Not bad for an old French bloke with a beard, eh? Not sure the photo does it justice, though, as it's now reminding me of the mould that used to grow on the bathroom walls in that dingy old flat in Wandsworth I used to rent many years ago.

That's Sandy!

Suck my old boots! It must be Ramsgate Day at the BBC!

I was just tucking into my lunch (quails eggs on toast), and thought I'd pop the old Sony 50 inch flat screen on. What's the first thing I see? None other than our council leader, Sandy Beach, pontificating about the new Pleasurama development deal.

Doing a live 'two-way', as we call it in the biz, he looked about as relaxed as a man who's just begun to suspect a snake is crawling up his trouser leg. Still, the elocution lessons appear to be paying some dividends, and he'd clearly received a full briefing from the Cecil Square spin doctors, judging by the number of times he uttered the words 'luxury' and 'prestigious'.

No mention, though, of whether this means our crumbling cliff is going to be repaired any time before the onset of the next ice age. Does anyone else remember him promising urgent remedial action as soon as the ink was dry on the deal?

Count Your Blethyns

Whilst performing my ablutions in the East Wing ensuite this morning, I happened to tune to Radio 4 on the built-in B&O system.

Imagine my surprise to hear the dulcet tones of the 2nd Greatest Ramsgatonian (after me, of course), actress Brenda Blethyn, coming through the speakers as I scrubbed the old broccoli. Although I have to admit at first I mistook her for dear old Wendy Richard.

Our Bren was holding forth on Midweek with Libby Purves. Ramsgate got plenty of mentions, as of course did Bren's new autobiography. It was, however, a trifle harsh of Libby P to opine, when Hunter Davies spoke of wearing clogs during his childhood up north: "Brenda, you probably used to dream of wearing clogs in Ramsgate."

Flight Of Fancy

Still catching up with the local comings and goings after my short break, I see that American tourists are being given a guide to the Ile in order to tempt them to flock here once flights to and from Nowhere, Virginia begin next year.

The spokeswoman for the company arranging the tours is quoted as saying: "Margate has some lovely sunsets, so that might be a lovely romantic destination."

Clearly the poor, deluded woman has never been anywhere east of Cape Cod, let alone Arsongate, so just to put her in the picture, here's a shot of a typical Margate 'lovely sunset'.

North Thanet Lets One Off

North Thanet has made good on its threat to carry out a pre-emptive strike of its biological 'stink bomb', provoking a strong reaction from South Thanet leaders.

The device was let off in Broadstairs harbour last week, creating a similar stench to the North Thanet test site in Margate Harbour. Previously it was thought that North Thanet lacked the technology to deliver the bomb, but experts now believe that boffins in Cecil Square have made a breakthrough, and could soon be targeting other beauty spots on the Ile.

Full story in the Isle of Thanet Gazunder.

Caff-Crushing Councillor

Not content with just crushing abandoned cars, I see our local councillor Dave Green is now turning his attention to crushing abandoned greasy spoons. Apparently he's going to demolish this eyesore in King Street with a single blow of his mighty, viridescent arm any time now.

Good to see our local Labour man taking the totally opposite view to Tory council leader Sandy Beach, who only last week was banging on about how he was going to transform the Ile de Thanet into a 'café society'.

Service With A Snarl

I must say, standards at the best hotels along the Croisette in Cannes definitely appear to be slipping.

More of my jolly holiday snaps soon, you'll be oh-so-pleased to hear!

No News Is No News

I've just realised I haven't received any of those awful free newspapers this week.

Maybe it's because our local 'foot distributor' (as I believe they're called) can't be bothered to go out in all this wind and rain. Either that, or my super, free, rip-roaring Isle of Thanet Gazunder has seen off the competition already!

Clean Sweep

I chuffing well do not flipping believe it!

Here I am, sitting in my James Bond style, gadget-strewn nerve centre at the old Cliff Top Mansion, and what do I see? The sweepy-broomy man from the council is only cleaning up the road minutes after the bin men have been. Normally the detritus is left on the street for at least 24 hours to give the KFC gulls a chance to pick over it.

What next, wheelie bins for Disgusta Road? Has there been a revolution on Uranus while I've been away?

Gazunder Blunder

Flaming Murdochs! This newspaper lark isn't quite what it's cracked up to be, is it?

While I've been away on my hols, my highly-paid pack of newshounds on the Isle of Thanet Gazunder have only managed to write a paltry four stories.

Just tootling around the Ile in the old TT earlier, I saw at least five remarkable sights that would make a good story, viz:

1. Margate Harbour actually full of water. Must be a very high tide. The council have ramped up the sands all along the beach. Presumably they're worried about the sea rising too far and putting all the fires out.
2. An 'Acquired On Behalf Of Clients' board on the splendid old Lido sign in Cliftonville. Coming soon, luxury apartments?
3. Truckloads of hairy-arsed film crew making some sort of drama on Kingsgate Bay. Just follow the pink arrows with 'LOC' (for 'location') on them.
4. Traffic chaos in Boredstares, as, for reasons known only to themselves, the Dickensians make their streets even narrower.
5. More arrows painted on the surface of Dumpton Park Drive than Davey Crockett had in his hat, including one directing road traffic up what appears to be a footpath.

Anyway, I've given all the Gazunder hacks a bollocking and told them to get their news noses to the grindstone. That should do the trick.

Margate Tories Launch New Logo

Margate Tories today launched their own take on the new Conservative logo on the final day of the party conference in Bournemouth.

"We wanted to combine elements of the traditional Tory 'torch' with the new Tory 'tree'," a spokesman said. "We think we've come up with something that most people in Margate can really relate to."

The new logo coincides with the successful negotiation of a ten year sponsorship deal with Bryant and May.

All Blogged Up

Ahoy! (You have to remember that I've spent at least some of the past four weeks on various floating gin palaces moored off the Cote d'Azur).

I've had a chance to catch up with the local blogging scene now, and despite Biggles bailing out somewhere over Westgate, things appear to be in pretty good shape. I'm particularly taken with the arrival on the blogging scene of Eastcliff Thorburn, a sort of anti-me, and jolly amusing too, albeit in a rather rough and ready way.

And there are a couple of embryonic new political blogs - The Thanetonian and Observing Thanet - along with the old favourites like Arts and Elbows, Ramsgate Tourettes, Nethercourt Notes, Snailspace, Thanet Eye, The Angina Monologues (perhaps he should change to The Angina Monopods, given his recent operation), not forgetting Man Eating Sausage in Wenceslas Square.

And good to see our local car-crushing councillor Dave Green back in harness, after receiving what appears to have been a nasty ticking-off from one of the council's po-faced apparatchiks.

Shame about Dr Biggles, though. I kind of liked the fellow, even though he showed a serious sense of humour failure over that Steaming Great Twat business. And, of course, he and I never saw eye-to-eye politically.

But there's no doubt he has a lot to thank me for. Even his exit speech sounded familiar:

Anyway and to change the subject, as the magic 200,000 mark approaches, I’ve decided that I’ll shut-up shop here once it passes. I’m not ruling out a comeback but when I started this weblog there was nothing else and now we have a vibrant and frequently bizarre community of ‘Bloggers’ for you to choose from. Thanet Life has served it’s purpose, which was to encourage local debate and deliver a personal slant on local news stories but these days it’s taking too much of my time and I’m neglecting my other columns elsewhere.

So the local paper and several local ‘Bloggers’ can soon find something and someone else more interesting to occupy their interests and as Winston Churchill said: “Everyone has his day and some days last longer than others."

Dr Biggles, September 2006.

Still, there's no such thing as bad publicity, and with over a million visits in the bag in just under five months, and lots of stale old cages rattled, it's been quite a success. A lot of you have started blogs during that time, and some of them are pretty funny. I've especially enjoyed Scottie's toons, Nethercourt's taciturn musings, Artyblartfast's arty blasts, and Tony Flaig's cows and stuff, and that boy Dusty's showing promise too.

Keep up the good work! Be seeing you.

Eastcliff Richard, May 2006

And anyway, he's still there, blogging away, so what was that all about? You can't get rid of him that easily! Blimey, that's another thing he's nicked off me!

Des Res

Now that that old charmer and word-muddler Des Lynam has quit Countdown, I feel I might be in with a chance of nabbing the gig.

Only a few months ago the producer phoned to ask me to do a turn on Dictionary Corner, and took the opportunity to bemoan Deslyxic, as he's known in the trade. "He'll be gone by Christmas," he predicted.

Still, at least Des'll now be able to stay up all night on Christmas Eve waiting for Satan to come down the chimney.

Waste Matter

It appears that, during my leave of absence, some fellow named Michael Morris arranged for a load of rubbish to be burnt in Margate. Not only that, but the whole event was apparently committed to celluloid.

Whilst Mr Morris's initiative is to be applauded as a short term measure for tidying up the area, surely it would be best to await the outcome of the inquiry into whether there should be a proper incineration plant at Richborough before we all go setting fire to our household detritus willy-nilly.

Personally, though, I hope the plan to send wafts of black smoke over Sandwich fails. Nuclear power is much cleaner, and, as it happens, my application to transform Richborough into a centre of uranial excellence goes before the Secretary of State next Wednesday.

Light Relief

Forgot to mention - the splendid lighting under the harbour arches is back! Hurrah!

How long did that take then? Four months?

Hello, Hello, It's Good To Be Back

Dear old Ramsgate hasn't changed that much in my absence. A quick sticky beak reveals:

1. Eastcliff Bandstand successfully transformed into Mother Ship from Close Encounters Of The Third Kind.
2. Granville Fountain suffering from a severe case of Clostridium Difficile.
3. More cyclone fencing along the cliff top, presumably as the rest of the thing heads beachwards.

Yep, there's no place like home!