East Of The Wantsum

Here's this week's EotW (click it to big it).

I'm dedicating it to the memory of my chum Mr Dickens of Broadstairs, who was prematurely taken from us in a tragic accident earlier this week. He was a regular contributor and commentator on this blog, with a devilish sense of humour and a particular way of pricking the pomposity of the puffed up and pointless politicians we suffer from on our septic isle. Mr D of B, you will be sorely missed.

Easter Funnies

Crikey! It's been quite a day for emails! Mr Dickens of Broadstairs writes:

I went to the Italian market in Broadstairs today in the area surrounding Pierremont Hall. This has been an annual event for years and is a cheerful diversion from the weather and closed shops that normally greet any visitors at this time of year.

I spoke to one trader who wondered what he was getting for his 100 sovs per day as the Duffers did not even manage to get the traditional street banner up across the high street to remind people it is on. They have managed to sanction a lot of demolition around the Hall however to build some more depressing crap flats though, as always if you can f*ck something up leave it to the Cecil Square Mafia.

I clicked on their website to see if they could be arsed to mention the market, and the pride of place is a private landlords association meeting at the Marlowe Centre. I guess you know where their priorities are as they try and remove any mention of tourism and things to do.

Moving to the north of the isle, an anonymous reader has sent me this:

John Coghlan, the original drummer of Status Quo, was supposed to be doing a gig at Westgate Pavillion last Friday with Kevin wotsisname who organised it. They cancelled the gig because Kevin hadn't organised a PA system, his website was still advertising events for last October, and he didn't bother turning up at the venue till 8.30pm.

The support bands had travelled from Manchester and Newcastle and quite understandably everyone was pretty upset. Oh dear. We do have talented business people here on the isle.

Indeed. Although I'd say the gene pool of talent could do with some fresh chromosomes if that's the best it can do!

Finally, moving back south, thanks to all the readers who have emailed me to point out that Ramsgate was yet again in the national press today. Another excellent review for Eddie Gilbert's, this time by Zoe Williams in the Sunday Torygraph. Zoe finishes with the immortal line: 'Everybody's saying it, and that's because it's true: as improbable as it sounds, with this and the brilliant Age & Sons I reviewed last year, Ramsgate is becoming a gourmet's destination. Thanet is the Amalfi coast of Kent'.

Funny, that's just what I think every time I walk down 'King Street, Zoe!

The Apprentice - Ramsgate Was Robbed!

The persistent word among the local millionaires is that the BBC initially wanted to bring Sralan and his apprentices to Ramsgate rather than Margate for this series of the popular business cock- (or increasingly hen-) fights.

The Beeb's researcher apparently rang one of the council's Ramsgate offices, but was referred under standing orders to the Cecil Square propaganda unit who presumably rubbed their hands with glee and said: 'Nah - you don't wanna go there. Come and see how we're spending £60m (allegedly) regenerating Margate instead!' The rest, as we now know, is history.

While we're on the topic of the Margate episode, I must extend my sincere apologies to Mr Dickens of Broadstairs whose Apprentice-related email has been languishing in my inbox for the past couple of weeks, awaiting a suitable peg to hang it on. Mr D of B had some very sound ideas about promoting Margate, including a large poster of our beloved leader in his Cecil Square office with the caption: 'Margate welcomes tourists - you f*cking tossers!' and a traditional view of the Margate skyline in flames with the tagline: 'Experience the excitement of the Blitz from your guest house window.' Nice one, Mr D of B!

Vexillatious Question

Many thanks for all your sackfuls of entries to my Find A Flag For Fannit competition! Special appreciation goes to regular contributors Mark, Dick, Millicent, and Mr Dickens of Broadstairs. Er, actually they were the only people who entered.

So, the competition is now closed, and the panel of judges (me) have made their final decision. And the winner is... [drum roll] Dick! I've had my team of highly trained graphic designers cast their glass eyes over your design, and they've made some alterations. Here's the final look:

The background colours have been changed to reflect our glorious sandy beaches, chalk cliffs and clear blue skies, whilst retaining your motif of the North Foreland lighthouse surrounded by the sand and grassy tussocks of Joss Bay. Oh, and following an unaccustomed attack of modesty, I asked them to keep my physog off it. I look forward to seeing the flag flying proudly from all our public buildings, and engraved into the walls of Thanet's toilet cubicles, in the very near future.

Congratulations Dick, and your bottle of Dom(estos) is chilling here at the old cliff top mansion ready for you take advantage of at your convenience!

The Train Corridors Of Power

Photo: Michael's Bookshop

Regular contributor Mr Dickens of Broadstairs writes:

Good morning Dick,

Mrs Dickens of Broadstairs was taking the kids to London for a day trip this morning via Broadstairs station. Who should get on at Margate but Minister for Transport Lord Adonis, who is on a five day journey on the railways to experience travel from the punters' perspective.

His first unpleasant experience, familiar to us all, was being approached by an old nutter who started jabbering on to him about Manston airport. No problem with flights, planes come in over the sea, very little housing blighted etc. The old gipper carried on in this vein, saying that South Eastern railways were reluctant to put in a gateway station from Manston because of their franchise being rather short etc. The earbending continued until the geezer got off at Faversham (probably worried about ticket inspectors) and his Lordship could finally enjoy his latte in peace.

Fortunately the wizened earbender gave away his identity by leaving behind his rolled up copy of Sporting Life with 'R Gale' scrawled in the top left hand corner. I thought they had a large building in London where this sort of thing gets discussed, not a public carriage for all to hear. Perhaps the signs saying 'No personal stereos', 'No feet on the seats' etc could also have an extra line, viz: 'No boomy-voiced local MPs pushing Manston'.

Your rail correspondent, The Fat Controller

Well Mr D of B, it seems Lord Absolutely-Gorgeous had his lughole well and truly chewed off there by Sir Rodge. Shame most of it was probably twaddle!

Lord lords it on the trains in The Times

Flag Fever!

Keep those entries coming in for my Find A Flag For Fannit competition. Already I've had thousands of people thinking about entering, and even one or two actual entries! Reader Mark is mining a rich seam along the lines of my brarn envelope suggestion:

Here's another variation from Mark, this time using Our Glorious Leader's catchphrase:

Meanwhile, reader Dick has captured the essence of the isle with his marvellous portrayal of the North Foreland lighthouse surrounded by the sand and grassy tussocks of Joss Bay:

What with the tasteful depiction of yours truly in the top left hand corner, and the fact that your motif is clearly a popular one with Thanetians as it can be seen chalked onto virtually every bit of concrete in these parts, you could well be a winner Dick!

Finally regular contributor Mr Dickens of Broadstairs has suggested that as part of the flag raising ceremony the Thanet ensign should be doused in petrol and immediately set fire to by an unidentifiable youth in a Primark hoodie once it has been hoisted, as is the proud tradition of the isle. Nice one Mr D!

Send your Fannit flags to: richardeastcliff@yahoo.co.uk. The closing date is Monday 20 April, and there's a bottle of Dom, or a syringe full of Domestos for the winner, depending on your preference.

From Newfoundland To Poundland

I'm indebted to my regular correspondent Mr Dickens of Broadstairs for suggesting the headline for this item. Yes indeed, dear reader, I have drunk Canada dry and have now staggered back onto Thanetian soil!

I must say, I was expecting to see bunting and the massed bands of the 1st Thanetian Sea Scouts. But it appears my return has gone unremarked and uncelebrated. However, I've turned comments back on so you can send your messages of goodwill and congratulations. Along, no doubt, with the occasional 'prick', 'c*nt' and 'paedo'!

Posted from Ramsgate via Royal Mail

Eminent Citizens

Following on from the current hunt for our Greatest Living Thanetian, regular contributor Mr Dickens of Broadstairs writes:

With Tracey Emin a candidate to replace Oliver Postgate as the GLT, has anyone else noticed the similarity between the Margate artist and one of Mr Postgate's finest creations, the Soup Dragon from the Clangers? Are they by any chance related?

Soup

Nuts

Doctor Clue

Reader Mr Dickens of Broadstairs writes:

Has anyone else noticed the similarity between the photograph of Our Glorious Council Leader, Sandy Beach, which was published recently on the 'popular but beseiged™' Thanet Life weblog, and this publicity still I found of Davros, the evil creator of the Daleks from Doctor Who? Are they by any chance related?

Dalek leader

Tory leader

Take Me To Your Leader

Reader Mr Dickens of Broadstairs writes:

Following your last item on UFOs, has anyone else noticed the resemblance between Inspector Clay, the zombie police officer from Ed Wood's 1958 classic Plan 9 From Outer Space, and Thanet Council leader Sandy Beach, perhaps whilst enduring an alien probing? Are they by any chance related?

Take me to Uranus

Taken up Uranus

Finger In The Dyke?

Regular contributor Mr Dickens of Broadstairs writes:

Your recent picture of the Major Domo of Ramsgate in waiting reminded me of one of my favourite esoteric websites - menwholooklikeoldlesbians.blogspot.com.

I think he could qualify as a mature rug muncher. Do we have any more Thanet celebrities who might make the grade?

PS: You really must stop your middle class jibes about Broadstairs. I would go on longer but I have to put Flavia and Hugo to bed, varnish the Morris Traveller, compose a Haiku for the Broadie, and still catch the last part of Tess of the D'Urbivilles (volume down whilst I read from the original Hardy).

Click here to visit Men Who Look Like Old Lesbians

Pin Back Your Lugholes

Regular reader Mr Dickens of Broadstairs writes:

I am putting in a plug for a really bluegrass psychobilly duo from New Orleans, Truckstop Honeymoon, who are playing the Sarah Thorne Theatre Club in Broadstairs this Saturday night.

Some friends gave me a CD of their stuff and I was dreading what it might be like - it turned out to be excellent and the kind of thing you would normally have to leave the island for, rather than have them land on your doorstep. Tickets are a tenner, doors open at 7.45pm.

Having sampled their ditties on MySpace, where they describe their music as 'like a Dodge with a burnt out clutch... two speeds and no reverse', I utterly concur Mr D!

Click here to go to Truckstop Honeymoon on MySpace
Click here to go to Sarah Thorne Theatre club website

Another One Bites The Dust

It looks as if Broadstairs will now have to be renamed 'The Victorian Arsonists' Playground' following a serious fire at Charles Dickens's Bleak House last night.

According to the BBC, around 40 firefighters were called to the Bling Blaze (as it's already being dubbed) at around 9pm. Part of the floor of the bedroom where the fire started has caved in, and at the height of the conflagration the firefighting team were faced with tremendous heat and zero visibility. Fortunately Mr and Mrs Bling were not at home at the time, and nobody was hurt.

The cause of the blaze is now being investigated. Police want to interview a man seen running from the scene dressed only in a Victorian bathing costume, carrying a box of matches and a Hornby train set. He was last spotted at the top of Albion Street playing a quick chorus of 'In An English Country Garden' on a portable hurdy-gurdy.