Showing posts with label pit bull donkeys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pit bull donkeys. Show all posts

Monday, April 06, 2009

An Island That's Open For Business!

Don't be daft! As if I was talking about our own outcrop of chalk here in the tip of Kent! No, I'm talking about the Isle of Wight.

I was warned before my weekend on Vectis that it would be like stepping back 40 years. And yes, the hotel was very Fawlty Towers, with a general air of tut-tutiness and enough signs forbidding this, that and the other (especially the other) than you could shake a proverbial at.

On the plus side, though, I toured the entire island and saw not one burnt out amusement park or derelict building. Not even a hint of a magnificent seaside facility transformed into a car park with EU money. And all the hotels were still hotels, rather than dire accommodation for third generation unemployables. Hundreds of brown tourist signs appeared to lead to, er, actual tourist attractions. Everywhere you go there are public conveniences which are not only clean and open, but being used by people for the rather quaint purpose of going to the lavatory. And not one crushed Stella can or barker's nest to spoil your promenade along the prom.

Ventnor was a particularly good example of a seaside town that was still doing a thriving trade by being a, er, seaside town:

Even the Winter Gardens looked as if it had been given a lick of paint recently. Moving on to Shanklin, proof positive that I have relatives in every coastal resort:

One shock, though, was the sight of my old showbiz chum Alan Titchmarsh wearing black tights. He's in the centre of my shot, walking next to the gipper with the scrambled egg on his shoulders.

Steady on Alan! I know the island's a timewarp, but there's no need to take it to that extreme! (Nice set of pins, though.)

I must admit that, parking up the old Tardis/Priapus back in the Millionaires' Playground last night, I fell into a bit of a decline. Clearly something went very wrong here on Chavvy Island thirty or forty years ago. My guess is that someone, somewhere began the cry of 'the bucket and spade holiday is dead' and over the following decades ensured that their prophecy came true. Now we're constantly being told by the Tory duffers that 'Thanet is open for business'. Well, that business ain't tourism, is it, 'cos there's chuff all left for the tourists to do. Perhaps they're talking about 'funny business'.

All the hoteliers and restaurateurs I spoke to on the Isle of Wight reported bookings are significantly up this year, as the recession, the weak pound and carbon footprint anxiety lead more and more Brits to holiday at home. One downside is the cost of getting there, though. £55 return to take the car on the ferry. But it does keep the riff-raff out. Now there's an idea! We could put up a barrier at the Wantsum and charge a £50 toll for getting in. And if we make it free to get out, it would effectively be a one-way trip for the pit bull tuggers. Hurrah!

More on WikiWight
Titchmarsh sworn in as chief Wight tight wearer

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Luke Box Jury

Phew! Thank heavens all that unpleasantness about Jade Goody is behind us!

Now, moving swiftly on (in true Thanet Life style), here's a young chap that's come to my attention who really does seem to have captured the spirit of the Arsonists' Playground. Musically speaking that is. Luke Edwards lists his influences as Pete Doherty, Arctic Monkeys, The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, Lily Allen, the Thanet Loop and Sandy Ezekiel, among others. His latest outing, Dreamland Ode To Margate, includes such pricelessly observed lyrics as 'over time this dreamland became a nightmare' and 'we idolise Pussycat Dolls and WAGS, binge drinkers and thugs and dirty slags'.

Do pin back your lugholes and take a listen. And Luke old bean, you really need to add Thanet's premier blog down there as one of your influences!

Luke Edwards on mySpace

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Self Abuse

I'm indebted to one of my readers who's pointed me in the direction of today's Independent, where snobby Will Self has written a rather hoity-toity item about the Ile de Thanet. Self describes Kent's Ramsgate Peninsula as 'the very coccyx of Britain, with its seafowl and its foul maidens.' Writing about Boredstares, he continues:

Seldom has anywhere more gentrified become more chavvy. What, I wonder, would (Dickens) make of the town now, perfused as it is with tracksuited, gel-haired denizens of Margate and Ramsgate? Indeed, the whole of this coast feels like some suburb of outer East London, so full is it of the sights and noises of the busy world... The sandy bay that is the town's focus remains, girded by white cliffs of chalk and terraced houses, complete with micro-interwar pleasure gardens and a lift down to the beach that looks like an off-whitewashed crematorium chimney.

Hmm. Not a fan then, Will? Maybe you and Sir Bob should get together!

Click here to read Will Self's article in the Independent
Broadstairs: 'Perfused with tracksuits'

Friday, March 30, 2007

Birds Of A Feather?

Now why on earth would a parakeet be 'courting' a pigeon?

I ask the question because that was the sight that confronted me on my pre-prandial constitutional this morning. Alerted by blood-curdling squawks, I looked up and witnessed one of those green immigrants that inhabit the King George VI park having what can only be described as his 'wicked way' with one of our native cooers.

One can only hope this isn't the start of a terrifying new trend. We're already bombarded by seagulls the size of poodles. The next thing you know the pit bulls will be making whoopee with the donkeys on our Mediterranean style beach!

Mind you, judging by the look of some of the people around here, that particular deviation may well have been happening for some time.

How they are related