Eastcliffy Circus

Flaming Nora, the old East Cliff is a hive of activity this morning!

They're improving the junction by the Granville 'Theatre Cinem', and traffic will apparently be backed up all the way to Hastings for the next 14 weeks!

One poor chap had clearly had enough, and decided to use our super-duper new out-of-this-world international rock and pop venue (aka The Eastcliff Bandstand) as a roundabout:


Oh yes, it's all go here on the East Cliff. Hedges are being trimmed by the council, and the developers of The Granville have reinstated their sign:


Even the steroid-enhanced KFC gulls have decided today's the day to pick off a small boat.

Ye Cannae Change The Laws Of Physics

Except on the Ile de Thanet, of course. The headline on the front page of the latest edition of 'Thanet Matters', our local council's free, er, magazine, trumpets: Preserving Our Area - Conservation In Action.

In fact lots of things here on Ramsgate's East Cliff have been preserved for quite some time now thanks to conservation inaction, and the peculiar laws of quantum mechanics that apply on Uranus.

LAW 1: WHAT GOES UP NEVER COMES DOWN


Scaffolding in Augusta Road. Been there for the best part of a year.

LAW 2: WHAT COMES DOWN NEVER GOES UP


Pleasurama. Burnt down seven years ago.


The Granville. Partly rebuilt a while back, but not this bit which, according to planning permission granted years ago, should look like this by now:


LAW 3: WHAT GOES UP KEEPS GOING UP AND UP


Temporary fencing on our crumbling cliff top. Been there for almost two years, and more keeps going up every week.

LAW 4: WHAT GOES UP SOMETIMES COMES DOWN AFTER A FEW WEEKS


October 2006 - the developer's sign goes up.


November 2006 - the developer's sign comes down.

LAW 5: AND SOME THINGS DON'T GO UP OR DOWN


'Nuff said.

Cruising

Well if it's good enough for that fellow who starred in that Top Gear film, it's good enough for me. I've decided I'm going to have my own fairytale wedding. Besides, the publicity won't do me any harm.

Now all I need is a suitable bride. Anyone out there prepared to take my ever-so-slightly camp image away?

Asbo You Like It

Tottering through those rather dingy back streets last night after an evening of charity fundraising for Gaddfathers In Need, I realised I'd unwittingly strayed into the new East Cliff No Bozo Asbo Zone.

Apparently the area is now under martial law, with armed rozzers ready to shoot on sight any unruly gathering of two or more people. Realising that, despite being on my tod, I could nevertheless still be construed as 'an unruly gathering' by Her Majesty's Finest, I scuttled along, hoping to vacate the area unnoticed.

So imagine my dismay when, rounding a corner, I came across an unruly gathering of Peelers. They gave me the once-over as I shuffled past, but thankfully they seemed to be preoccupied with deciding which of the three of them was going to arrest the other two.

Doing The Hokey-Pokey

I see that some of the local residents around here are complaining that our super-duper new out-of-this-world international rock and pop venue (aka The Eastcliff Bandstand) has been the scene of some 'dirty dancing' recently.

Apparently young couples have been spotted in the dead of night doing more than just the conga, if you catch my drift, and outraged Eastcliffers are now demanding that something is done about it. They claim that such activites are being encouraged by the garish new lighting system.

Well, it works for moths I suppose.

Bikenews Margate

I see Man Eating Sausage In Wenceslas Square has got himself into a spot of bother with some Hell's Angels. The language!

Well what do you expect if you insist on hooning down the M2 at 100mph in a Transit van, concentrating more on your pie/hole interface than the other road users around you? Really Tony!

I often get my old throbber out and give it a thrash in the sun. I've offered to take Tony around the Ile on the back, to give him the two-wheeled perspective on things, but for some reason he's declined.

Perhaps he's studied a pie chart and seen how risky it is.

Goaled 'n Brown

Aaaah! That's better. I can feel the colour returning to my cheeks already.

And just in time - I'm expecting several coachloads of footie fans to arrive any minute. Apparently, that famous radio presenter from Margate who now lives in London has added a link on some Margate FC forum to my Sandy Raps video.

Now, what should I wear when I meet Becks?

Hacked Off

Blogging hell! Have you seen what's happened to my humble jottings? They look like they've had a makeover from some hippy on an LCD trip. I've been racking my brains and come up with three theories:

A: It's the work of those dark forces on the Ile who would be happy to see me relocate to Great Yarmouth.

B: Dr Biggles has finally cracked my password, and in a fit of maniacal rage crashed his teeny-tiny plane into my gubbins.

C: I was fiddling with my blog settings and twiddled the wrong knob.

I'm not paranoid (although I know for definite there's someone who thinks I am), but I reckon we can reasonably discount option C.

Good job Laurence gave me his number at that Changing Rooms wake a couple of years ago. If only I could find the bit of paper he wrote it on.

Council Leader Takes To The Rap

Lumme! I've got an old chum who works at one of those media training companies, and he's sneaked me a peak at some video work they did with our local council recently.

I didn't know Sandy had it in him!

Gone Philming

Phew! Feeling less groggy today, which is a good thing, as I'll need my wits about me for the new show I'm shooting this week for one of the, um, cable channels.

It's called 'Philthy Rich!', and the hilarious idea is that I'm secretly filmed in shopping malls and high streets trying to con members of the public into parting with their hard earned mazonga. Sort of like those internet phishing scams that keep popping up in my email.

I did express a concern that I might not be the best person for the job, as I'm bound to be recognised. But the producer said they couldn't afford Davro, and then made some off-colour remark about me not even getting recognised if I was chucking £50 notes off the top of Nelson's Column dressed in nothing but my birthday suit.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Wino Blog

Eurgh! My head! That Dr McJobby turned out to be a bit of raver. After our Channel 4 meeting, she took me on to her juice bar, and things just snowballed from there.

Where's the Alka-Seltzer?

We apologise for the interruption to our scheduled programmes. This is due to a fault on our Ramsgate transmitter. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

In the meantime, here is some music.

Firming Up My Next Job

Just finished lunch with that Dr Gillian McJobby woman, here in the busy cyber caff at Channel 4. We've discussed the finer points of the show, and now she's nipped off to the ladies.

She's asked me to keep a stool free, but I'm not sure how long I can hang onto it.

What Shall We Do With A Drunken German?

While away the office tedium, that's what!

My old chum Scottie, that chap with the dilithium crystals in his Reg Grundies, has sent me a link to a splendid game, in which you're required to keep a drunk German upright on his late night trek home from the bar for as long as possible. Just move your mouse from left to right, and you'll soon get the hang of it. Or not, as the case may be. The furthest I got was 59 metres, perhaps it helps to be drunk when you play it.

I was tempted to refer to it as the 'Lucy Mail Simulator', given all her alcohol-fuelled antics over on Ramsgate Tourettes. But then I realised she hasn't got a beard.

Well, not as far as I know.

Turner Centre Required Massive Piles

More news about that Turnip Centre those chaps from the council wanted to erect in the, er, mud off the Arsonists' Playground.

According to Kent Online, who have managed to get hold of a copy of the report into the 'Turnip Offshore' debacle, the thing would have needed 45 metre piles just to avoid being blown over by a strong puff of wind!

Now I'm sure I could come up with a joke that involved the words 'wind', 'piles', and 'art'. But you'll have to pay me £8m first.

Crappy Christmas

I'm thinking of bringing out one of those cheap and cheerful Christmas books, so yesterday I had a shufti around W H Smith to get a feel for the competition.

I must say, I was shocked at the number of titles incorporating the S-word. In addition to the above work of literary genius, you could also fill your Auntie Doris's stocking with Old Shite's Almanac, I'm Dreaming Of A Shite Christmas, and How To Shit Around The World.

Assuming your Auntie Doris is compos mentis and hasn't done all the stocking filling herself, that is.

Des-olated

I'll have to call Jack Barclay again and cancel that Bentley order. I've just heard that Des O'Flipping Connor has pipped me to the post for Countdown. If I'd known they wanted another Des, I'd have changed my name to Des Res.

Property News

Yippee! My cliff top mansion has increased in value by 15%, and I've only been in Ramsgate a year! I think I'll re-mortgage and buy a Bentley!

Back In The U$$R

Yikes! I missed out on a bit of a treat in Amsterdam last month, The Millionaire Fair 2006.

One of my commentators, a Mr Milo Sovich, has pointed me in the direction of the Fair's website. Organised by Russkies, the blurb spells out who it's aimed at:

The target audience is consumers of the high-end luxury segment, VIP’s, the political, administrative, business and cultural elite.

Sounds like my kind of thing. What could I have seen there?

For four days all odors of luxury lifestyle was able to see and buy the best the international luxury industry has to offer.

All odors, eh? Well I'm a big cheese. But what I'm really after is a squire meter.

In compare with last year Millionaire Fair becomes twice bigger, as for quantity of participants as well for squire meters.

No worries on that score, then. Must book ahead for next year!

Eamonn Low

Look, I'm not normally one to gloat about a fellow celeb's bad luck, but HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Remember I auditioned for a new game show back in March, The Rich List? Eventually I lost out to TBA Noel. Later, though, he said he was too busy shifting some boxes to take up the offer, and so it was passed to Eamonn Holmes.

Now the trade papers are reporting that The Rich List has been pulled by Fox in the US after just one show! That's a whole 60 minutes of US fame for our Eamonn! Eamonn's no Sherlock, I can tell you, but even he must be getting the message that he's not wanted.

Meanwhile, ABC have beamed up William Shatner for a new, blockbuster, primetime game show. I wish Bill the best of luck, you need a lot of bottle for these big money bunfights.

Hopefully, though, the captain's log has got a lot firmer since he did those All-Bran commercials.

Cigar Butts And Butt Cigars

Stuck here in my domicile at 'the edge of teh known world', I've been feeling increasingly less important. I suppose it would be different if I lived near a throbbing metropolis like, say, Birchington.

So to puff myself up a bit, I spent yesterday at the old pied-a-tèrre in Chelsea. It's just a small terrace on Cheyne Walk, nothing too flash. I've been renting it to a producer pal of mine, who made the odd bob or two out of some game show. Entangled in a few domestic difficulties recently (= ran off with the production co-ordinator), he needed a bolt hole.

He's moved out now, but cripes, the way he's left it! Beer bottles, old Havana cigars, and as for the state of the dunny. Well, I've heard of roll your own, but that's taking it a bit too far.

I'll have to call in those cleaning ladies from Channel 4.

Things That Go 'F' In The Night

You know me, I'm all for 24 hour cafe culture, but the number of times I'm woken up in the middle of the night by people shouting and swearing since the licensing laws were changed is definitely on the rise.

The last thing I want to know at four in the morning is that somebody's 'effing mother is effing pregnant again and in effing prison for effing knifing someone'. Really!

Bit Of A Fizzer

The Broadstairs fireworks display tonight was a bit of a fizzer. Not least because it's tomorrow night.

Like most of the large crowd standing around listlessly on Preacher's Knoll this evening, Angela and I had read in the local papers that tonight was the night.

A serious case of Boredstares all round.

EDF Off

Those garlic-munching muppéts at EDF blew another fuse this afternoon. Now I'll have to set the clock on the blinking Bang and Oluffsen.

It's sabotage, I tell you. They just can't bear the thought of Ramsgate being more chic than Cannes!

Apartment-heid

Flaming bungalows! That Gazunder reporter must be a rampant leftie or something! What does he mean, deriding our local planning department like that?

As one of the pillars of the regeneration community, I'll have you know that I've had many successful dealings with Plan-It Thanet.

They're especially good when it comes to understanding the needs of your average property developer, and helping out with all those awkward rules and regulations that seem to get in the way these days. Like having to incorporate a 'social housing' (yurgh!) element into your luxury block.

For example, I've got my eye on this little number in Cliftonville:


A snip at £5.6m. What do the agents say?

We our privileged to be offering this prime residential site for re-development. Located on the seafront in Cliftonville, Margate, where, the wider regeneration story is attracting extensive inward investment to the area.

Sounds great! Sea views, and there's planning permission to knock it all down and bung up 140 luxury apartments! But what about that troublesome 'social housing' (yurgh!) element? No worries:

The planning consent includes an approved 106 agreement, which confirms the social housing element of the consent as 19 apartments, which are all located off seafront position.

So the oiks have to sit in the cheap seats! Hurrah!

I expect those nice Paigle people who did up the Sea Bathing Hospital will get something like that written into their planning consent for the Lido.

And I have to applaud our glorious council leader Sandy Beach taking a firm stance, during his recent interview about Ramsgate's new Pleasurama development with BBC South East News. Asked whether it would include a social housing (yurgh!) element, his response was: 'We are building social housing, but not here.' At which point he gestured vaguely in the direction of Westwood.

Still, there are some nice views to be had at Westwood. I hear the sun setting over Wickes is very Turner-esque. Plus, if you get inspired, you don't have to go too far for the paint!

New Measures Ordered By Council Planning Chiefs

by Isle of Thanet Gazunder Staff

Stationers and DIY stores across Thanet have reported a rush on rulers and tape measures after bungling council experts were fined for saying a three storey building would only be two storeys high.

The knob-knuckled bureaucrats have already been described as one of the worst planning departments in the country. Now they stand accused of not knowing their roof from their basement.

Other developments which are thought to have been affected by oversize oversights are:

• Pleasurama development. Planners say that the new, £200m development of 1400 luxury apartments and five luxury hotels will be no higher than the crumbling East Cliff, but a source told the Gazunder that he'd seen drawings which 'made the Empire State Building look like a kiosk'.

• Turner Centre. Far from coming 'onshore', according to the Gazunder's source plans drafted by the department show it covering much of the Thames Estuary.

• Dreamland. Again, our source says that the council's planners have included huge new rides and attractions to rival the likes of Disney World! Shurely shome mishtake - Ed.

Christmas - It's Great!

by Thanet SadScene staff

Yes, your super, soaraway SadScene's got everything wrapped up for Christmas in Thanet!!!

So if you're looking for great gift ideas, festive family fun, or something a bit different, we've saved you the bother of shopping around!

GET PLASTERED
Christmas is a time for inviting friends and family into your home. But they won't feel at ease if the plaster's hanging off the wall. Call Wantsum Walls on 01843 777777.

OLD BOILER
What could be worse than cold turkey on Christmas Day? And with the winter weather here, now's the time to service that old boiler in the kitchen. Call ThanetGas on 01843 888888.

DECKING THE HALLS
The holly's up, the Christmas lights are working, but there's something missing. A patio! No Yuletide is complete without one! Call Slab-O-Rama on 01843 999999.

HAIL TO THE BEEF!
Get your glad rags on for Christmas! Don't miss out on Asda's new range of snug fit, £5 leggings for the larger woman. George 'W-bush' range available at all local stores.

Are you sure about that last one? Ed.

Rocket Science

Angela calls to say she'll be down at the weekend, and would I like to go to a bonfire party?

"Of course," I say. "I like to let one off at least once a year."

"Where shall we go, then?"

Hmmm. Apparently she'd like me to take her to an organised display. Trouble is, being new to the area, I'm not sure which would be the best, and I don't fancy schlepping all the way to Edenbridge to see that portly chap from Channel 4 Racing fry.

Must do a bit of research. Where to start? What about the council website? Nope. Nada. Maybe fireworks and Uranus don't mix.

Noel Show

One thing I'm certainly not doing tonight is watching my old chum Sir Trev hand out those rather ornate ear trumpets at the National Television Awards on ITV1.

The show was taped last night, my ticket must have somehow been lost in the post. Good job too, as TBA Noel picked up a gong for Best Daytime TV Show, although he wasn't there to collect it personally (thus saving many of the audience from having to re-acquaint themselves with their dinners).

But I have made a date to watch Madonna's first BBC interview since adopting a child from Malawi on Newsnight later. I've seen the previews, and she seems to be hell-bent on parading her black roots. The state of her hair!

See View

As part of my campaign to generate better publicity for the north of the Ile, and to avoid enforced relocation to a much smaller property six feet under the Sandwich by-pass, I've decided to invest in a pair of Ben Sherman 'Margate' sunglasses.

They're a snip at $175, and come in four colours - Tortoise Shell, Black, Check, and, er, Dog. There's a range of lenses too. I'm opting for the rose-tinted.

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!

Dave? What Are You Doing Dave?

Sacre bleu! I 'ave only been in ze south of France for a week, and I find my dulcets all over Radio Kent.

I wouldn't mind, but to protect my anonymity they've made me sound like HAL the computer from 2001: A Space Odyssey, in that scene where he's having his bits pulled out.

Anyway, what am I doing? I'm meant to be on my hols! Garcon - encore un gin and tonic, por favore!

It's All Gone A Bit Pearl Harbour

Yep, there's definitely a nip in the air, so bugger it, I'm off to the South of France.

I've booked a luxury cruise liner (P&O Ferries) to take me to my luxury villa in Cannes, where I'm going to luxuriate in luxury surroundings, eating luxury food and drinking luxury booze.

I suppose when I get back, the view from the old Cliff Top Mansion will have changed, now that this blessed fart farm is going ahead. They say it'll create 800 jobs, and won't cost the local taxpayer a penny.

If you ask me, they'd generate a whole lot more electricity if they built the blinkin' thing in Cecil Square.

PS: Just taken a squiz at a map of the Thanet Fart Farm. I had to snigger, it'll be those Dickensians whose views will be blighted! Proof yet again that the Millionaires' Playground is the place to be! When you're not in Cannes, that is.