Saturday Night Scobie

Moving on from all the doom and gloom surrounding this week's news about the airport, it may not have escaped your attention that today is Saturday! And what better way to celebrate the weekend than with another Scobie Dobie Doh pic from one of my lovely readers?

So, get your glad rags on, get down to the disco, and boogie!

Funny, though. I've not seen any comment yet from Scobes Minor about Manston, despite the fact that he is Thanet South's Labour candidate for next year's general election. Perhaps he'll, er, take off once he knows which way the wind is blowing! Geddit!!!????!?!!???!!!

Meanwhile Ramsgate's feisty Labour Mayor (-ess?) Kim Gibson has firmly pinned her colours to the mast with this comment on my Facebook page:

Time for facts. It could never work CAA was not going to give out any more flight paths due to capacity being filled by other airports. Secondly the catchment area does not support numbers that would use the airport. Thirdly if a miracle happened and they could be granted permission to fly more than 8 million passengers a year a public safety zone would have to come into force. This is a 4m isosceles triangle which means you cannot congregate within the area over 3 hours. No development. No schools etc. ie you could have a golf course but not a clubhouse. Thirdly at the sister airport Prestwick at its height it supported 300 jobs. Now we could have ikea plus other shops similar to blue water (£40.00 disappears down the M2) some residential maybe a centre park/haven incorporating a swimming pool, ice rink, funfair. All this could employ so many more than the airport ever could. People could come here and this would be the hub to visit Canterbury, Broadstairs etc etc people from up North could holiday and be an hour away from a day trip to London and visit all of Kent's wonderful villages, history again etc as there is so much. The airport was never going to be the regeneration of Thanet but a leisure/retail/residential will be.

So it doesn't look as if we'll be seeing Our Kim and Ann Gloag in a cat fight any time soon. Which is a pity, as I think they would have been pretty well matched.

Oh dear. We seem to have gone back to the airport again. Never mind, think of it as a training loop!

Mess Fine Mess

Apols for the graphic picture, but it does rather illustrate what we're up against here. Yes, I'm talking barkers' nests.

We all know that a toddle along Thanet's pavements and promenades can be a bit like tip-toeing through the proverbials. Nowadays I have taken to walking with my head down, scanning for the offending items, in the hope that my diamond-studded Church's brogues can remain uncontaminated by the digested remains of Tyson's Chappie and chips, thereby missing out on the wonderful views our island has to offer.

Still, we do know from all those signs on every lamp post that any owners caught failing to clear up after Fido can be handed a, er, 'on the spot' fine of £75, or a maximum penalty of £1000 if they're taken to a magistrates' court.

So, how many dog doo-doo fines have our beloved Thanet Council issued in the past year then? Go on, take a guess. 100? 50? Well, following an FOI request by one of my lovely readers, I can tell you the answer is 4. F-O-U-R, four.

Another request for the number of beach litter fines issued in the last 12 months reveals an even lower figure. The lowest figure you can get, actually. That's right, a big fat zero. And that despite the worst litter seen on Margate Sands for 30 years, when it took a team of 12 cleaners an entire day and night to clear the beach after July's Jamaican party.

You'd think for a council that says it spends more on cleaning than any other, and which has just poured £3.4m down the TransEuropa plughole, they'd be a bit keener at recouping some of our council tax!! Kuh!!!

Time Flies When You're Plastered

Lorks! Has it really been over a week since I contributed to this drivel? Hmmm. I really shouldn't have downed that third bottle of Sambuca with Cilla last weekend.

Meanwhile all the news that's fit to print has, er, been printed in today's Isle of Thanet Gazunder. The air show at RAF London Kent Manston Margate Tracey Emin Maggie Thatcher Schipol International Airport was a shambles apparently, with vehicles backed up all the way to the M62. I'm indebted to one of my readers for sending me this pic of the catering van exploding due to the sheer number of four stone Shergar burgers being fried to feed the hordes of hungry Thanetians that attended.

Meanwhile Ferrygate rumbles on. One of my spies reports: 'I had the pleasure of talking to a council officer today. I mentioned TransEuropa Ferries and he said that all the staff had been instructed not to discuss this issue with the public.' Makes sense, I suppose. If I'd dropped a £3.4m bollock, I wouldn't want people talking about it either.

And finally, some good news here in the Millionaires' Playground, where our waterworks seem to have been rejuvenated! Not only is our lovely, Niagara-style Madeira Walk waterfall working again for the first time in living memory, but so is the Festival of Britain fountain up by the Granville Theatre and Cinem! There's even a rumour that the Winterstoke fountain might be in the process of being restored! Hurrah!!

PS: If you want a glimpse of what the inside of Pfizer's canteen looks like, I'd heartily recommend a trip to the flicks to catch World War Z, starring our very own Brad Pitt (who, as we all know, was born in Cliftonville, as was the lovely Tom Hanks). If, however, you're hoping to see zombies rampaging through the streets of Thanet, as reported in today's Gazunder, you'll be sadly disappointed since most of the film was shot in Glasgow and Malta, with just the 'exciting' denouement featuring the Pfizer site. That said, I'm sure if you take a walk down Boredstares high street on a Saturday night, you'll get a feel for what might have been.

Ramsgate Drug Dealers Go To Pot

Wending through the grimy, East Cliff back streets to the local Premier (Costcutter in old money) for my copy of Gra*ia last night, I spied the local drug dealer tooling around on his mountain bike. He'd occasionally stop, give his distinctive cheery whistle, and a ghost would approach him with the dosh for the necessary.

How different from three or four years ago when deliveries were made by dudes in top of the range Audis! It's tempting to think the umpteen raids on cannabis factories across the island have driven the poor chap to pedal power, but personally I blame the bankers. They just can't afford the stuff any more.

Let's hope that with Dave and, er, that other bloke now in charge we can ride out this economic crisis and at least get him up to an ice cream van with Brown Sugar blaring out of the Tannoy!

A Wetherspoon Eye On Ramsgate Front?

Carousing with the Ramsgate glitterati on the strip last night, it soon became clear that rumour is rife about pub chain J D Wetherspoon taking over the soon-to-be-defunct Kent International Hotel.

Wetherspoons, who operate 780 hostelries around the UK, including Margate's Mechanical Elephant, is on the acquisition trail. Their website even asks readers if they've got any recommendations for sites that could be transformed by the company's own brand of beery magic. And surprisingly they're after hotels as well, they already run 16.

Whether Wethers can break Frank Thorley's grip on Ramsgate front is yet to be seen. Whether the local rozzers can prevent packs of pie-eyed punters staggering all over the road at pissed o'clock in the morning is another question. To which, I would suggest, the answer is a resounding 'No'!

PS: I see the excellent Thanet Anthem (see story below) has put on almost 3,000 BoobTube viewers since yesterday, and is now going to be released on iTunes! Our beloved council must be spewing that six times as many people in a day have watched a video that portrays them as the nincompoops they are than are prepared to watch their guff about Margate's 'Big Event'. Hurrah!

We're Fannit, Innit

A review copy of celebrated wordsmith Iain Aitch's We're British, Innit has come into my possession, providing much needed evidence that at least one Margatonian can string two words together without the net result looking like an explosion in a Scrabble factory.

It's out in paperback next week (published by Harper Collins at £7.99, but only £5.99 from Amazon) and is chock full of bitesize bits bursting with bang-on bon mots about Blighty, arranged in a read-it-all-in-one-wet-afternoon A-Z format. The new paperback version boasts an additional chapter containing brand new material suggested by members of the Great British Public.

A random flick elicits this entry on Seaside:

Being an island nation we are never more than a short drive from the seaside, which is naturally one of the first places that our leisure industry evolved. We rapidly went from bathing machines to kiss-me-quick hats and saucy postcards, identifying the water's edge as a place where inhibitions could be cast aside. It may have lost some of its allure in the twenty-first century, but it is still the place we go to make sandcastles, ride donkeys and catch crabs, be it in a bucket, from the bed in a B&B or from a local heroin addict prostitute.

Educated at Chatham House, clearly Mr Aitch is still in touch with his Fannit roots, although I gather he can more frequently be found these days swanning it up with the Guardianistas in Stoke Lesbington. Not far from my own pied-a-terre in Norf London's media heartlands, as it happens!

King Of The Swingers

Word has reached me through the old millionaires' grapevine that a prominent member of our esteemed council was recently caught with their proverbials down at a 'swingers' party'.

Being rather untutored in matters of the heart, I had to look this one up. And I have to admit, dear reader, I was rather shocked! Apparently these events involve a few shandies followed by the chaps placing some sort of anonymous identifier, such as a set of car keys, in a hat. Lady participants then take it in turns to remove said keys from said hat hoping, one assumes, to have picked a Bentley or Range Rover V8 rather than a J reg Sierra. They then retire to the boudoir with the vehicle's owner for what can only be described as, um, a full service.

Naturally I'm not going to name the member who's been fingered. Whatever people do in their private lives is really no concern of mine. This blog isn't the News of the Screws. Besides, it could well put my source in jeopardy! I'm not having you lot wildly speculating either, so I've disabled comments for this item!

Click here to read more about swinging on Wikipedia
Click here for porn star key cover by Broadstairs firm Elgate

Right Royal Ruckus

Tooling around the Millionaires' Playground in a semi-drunken stupor at 1am last night, I couldn't help noticing that the front by the Royal pub was caked out with coppers interviewing swarms of young people, all dressed in their Saturday night finery (crop tops, micro skirts and high heels).

Clearly some kind of fracas had taken place. And it could well have started outside the Sovereign in Harbour Street, as an eagle eyed reader spotted these missing hair extensions, presumably torn off some mahogany veneered Broadstairs builder's missus, lying in the street this morning:

Sovereign Ramsgate: hair of the dog?

Update: Looks like yourfannitinnit's got to the bottom of this. There was a bitch fight at the Royal in the ladies' khazi. Click here for more. And thanks to an anonymous comment on this post, we now also know that a woman is alleged to have assaulted a bouncer at the Sovereign, round about the same time. Although it's not clear whether those are the bouncer's hair extensions that my reader snapped the following morning or the woman's.

Tired And Emotional

Well, well, well. I would like to apologise for being a bit 'untidy' on Saturday night. It's probably a good thing that I didn't make it to Boogaloo at the Monkey House as rather more damage than referring to a friend's choice of hosiery as 'lesbian socks' may have been done. (Sorry H!). I must say, despite doing nothing yesterday, trying to get to work this morning I could still have done with some of this:

Hornby To Play With Bigger Train Set

Margate model manufacturers Hornby have reported a late surge in sales in the run up to Christmas, and say they'll continue with expansion across Europe. The company makes model chuffers, Lewis Hamilton style Scalextric sets, Corgi toys and Airfix glue-your-hands-together kits.

Hornby's success clearly demonstrates that staying in and playing with yourself is the new going out. Although if you want to invite a friend, I can thoroughly recommend the Horny Pain Set, a snip at £29,95 from Pillow Talk on Margate front.

Update: The Hornby Visitor Centre in Margate launches on 3 July 2010 and will be open every Friday, Saturday and Sunday throughout the year. Click here for more info.

Click here for full story on BBC News website

What's On In Thanet

Not a lot, some of you cynics might cry. But as an exercise in proving them wrong, and in cheering everyone up a bit about the cultural life of our funny little island, I've popped a new section in the sidebar on the right, entitled, rather imaginatively I thought, 'What's On In Thanet'.

So do feel free to drop me a line at richardeastcliff@yahoo.co.uk to publicise your cheese and wine evening, séance, keys-in-the-middle night or whatever it is that passes for fun around here. I can't promise to be all-inclusive. And as ever, I reserve the right to take the proverbial!

I Had Sachs, With Granddaughter,

round to tea once. I must say 'Manuel' really is the most professional and cordial fellow you're ever likely to meet in showbiz. So I find my allegiances divided on today's big issue. Given the fact that I'm beginning to suspect my drinks were spiked last night, and that Wossie's given me the arse-off on Facebook, perhaps I should be putting in a bid in for Friday Night With Richard Eastcliff after all!

Now, where's the cold flannel?

Back By Unpopular Demand

Thanks to all the emails (two) that have been pouring in to Ofblog about my jottings being, er, utterly re-Branded over the past week, I'm back on the air! And the good news is it only took a yacht, 4x4, motorcycle and a new house to persuade the Politburo to grant me planning permission to put my sign back up!

'No Sex' In Ramsgate

Our luxury Granville Theatre & Cinem is reviving that 70s hit No Sex Please, We're British. Performances run from 6-9 February, tickets £8.

At the time the farce became a byword for the Brits' stiff (if that's the right word) approach to all matters pertaining to the bedroom, but of course things have changed in the intervening 30 odd years. I suggested they update the title to the much more contemporary Dogging, Binge Drinking and Vast Quantities of Class A Drugs Please, We're British, but my idea seems to have fallen on deaf ears.

Click here for the Granville website