Loaded

Interpol called this morning to say they had apprehended Cyril, my accountant, attempting to fly out of Schiphol Airport with a suitcase full of fifties. Apparently it's my money! Woo-hoo!

And to confirm the old adage that winners are grinners, my millionaire chum Sir Alan phoned to say he's going to be in Kent's Ramsgate Peninsula for the weekend, and did I fancy doing lunch? Apparently he's here for the knees-up and fireworks tonight to celebrate the 150th anniversary of our Shirley Temple Yacht Club.

So things are looking up! No more shopping at Netto! I think I'll leave the sponsors on the blog, though, as I've got quite a queue of them lined up, and, as they say at one of those cheap supermarkets I've been visiting lately, every little helps!

West Cliff Story

So I thought I'd tootle along to the West Cliff to see what all the fuss was about (see previous post). Talk about timing! The day after the kind of exposure on primetime national TV that most PR people would cream their jocks over, the Grange is closed to visitors.

That got the old grey matter going. What else on Ramsgate's West Cliff could I do to while away the time? Ah yes, the Motor Museum.


Er, no. Not unless I'd brought my hard hat. This is what West Clilff Hall used to look like in its heyday:


Gallery IOTA, maybe? Nope, in a fine example of arts regeneration, that's had to make way for a kiddies playgroup.

Oh well, the pub it is then!

PS: Apologies to Vince Runacre for shamelessly purloining the idea behind his superb Old Ramsgate (then and now) blog. There's some terrific stuff there, so do pay him a visit.

Puge Cock Up

Well what a disappointing old pile that Time Team special on Pugin turned out to be. All the money shots were of the famous Victorian architect's cliff top mansion, and bits of the West Cliff.

I know the occasional glimpse of The Lookout would have got old Nethercourt's pulse racing, but where was the rest of Ramsgate? And by that I mean our trend-setting, go-ahead, rinky-dink East Cliff.

No wonder Baldric finished the show beside Pugin's tomb in that flint monstrosatery behind the Grange with these words: 'It's amazing that this great man lies forgotten here in this part of England that time has been unkind to.' Precisement!

By the way, I've emailed Tony with the details of a good, reasonably priced plastic surgeon in Poland. I don't know about you, but he's looking like something he might have dug up on his own show these days.

Old News

I bumped into that geriatric reprobate Angina on the way back from the Netto last night.

He's fuming because, he says, he predicted that flights to Nowhere, Virginia would be a dead loss when they were announced last year, but can't log into his blog to crow about it at the moment, having had several of his fingers amputated up at the QEQM the other week.

When I got home I searched his blog, and blow me down if he wasn't spot on the money!

Flight of Fancy

14 July 2006

I see yet more of our hard earned dosh is going to subsidise flights from Manston to Norfolk, Virginia, the home of the US Navy. Quite why we'd all want to go there, heaven only knows. I drove past it once. If you like big, grey battleships it might float your boat, I suppose.

And of course, all those US Navy ratings are just dying to get on a plane and come and see our newly opened Tudor house in Margate.

Next time I pay my council tax, I think I'll just get it out in cash, and go and stuff it straight down the nearest drain. It'll cut out the middle man.

Offers Flooding In!

'Ow's about that then, guys and gals! Ooh, pardon me, I came over all Jimmy Savile there for a moment!

Anyway, news is that since my last post I've been inundated with offers. Well, two actually. The first is from a company called Airpic. They shove a bloody great pole up and take an aerial shot of your house for you. No messy flying involved!

Thing is, they feel a certain doctor has a bit of a monopoly here in Thanet at the moment, so they're keen to break into the market.

The second offer is from a company which is about to launch the George Formby Grill. They're dubbing it The Lean, Mean, Ukelele Playing Grilling Machine. Apparently you bung your bangers in, and it'll give you a chorus of When I'm Cleaning Windows while it's doing them to a turn. Should sell millions!

Skint

Well that's that then. Cyril, my accountant, says I'm broke. Apparently splashing out 44 Gs on Del Boy's Robin Reliant yesterday was the final straw.

Still, it was kind of Cyril to call me from the airport on the first day of his trip to the Dutch Antilles. I know I've always said you can't get rid of me that easily, but as the old adage goes, there's no escaping taxes and death, and when I last looked the old tootsies were still wiggling so I must have succumbed to the former.

The only assets left are the TT, the Smart car, the Robin Reliant, the old cliff top mansion, and this blog. So from today I've got a new catchphrase:

WILL BLOG FOR FOOD

Councillor Biggles?

Heavens above! I see that our local flying doctor is standing for the council in the May elections, on behalf of the Blue Rinsers.

Although not one of Mr Cameron's drooling pot smokers myself, I can only wish the chap happy landings. After all, it will make a pleasant change to see someone get a firm grip on the joystick of power. At the moment all we have is a bunch of Dad's Army types aimlessly marching up and down with broom handles (car-crushing Cllr Green excepted).

I'd stand for election myself, but unfortunately, due to the anonymous nature of my persona, nobody would know who I was!

Tune In For Pugin

I see our Monte Carlo style megalopolis is to be featured yet again on Channel 4 this week.

My old TV chums Tony Robinson and that nice Kevin McCloud from Grand Designs are presenting a Time Team special entitled Pugin: The God of Gothic. Of course, I exclusively revealed this upcoming treat back in April 2006 (Time Team Comes To Ramsgate).

The famous Victorian architect's own cliff top mansion over on the rather less salubrious West Cliff will be featured. I'm not sure if the splendid fellow above who sits on our trendy and stylish East Cliff is the same chap, though, as the Pugins were Catholics and consequently there were 496 of them.

The new show comes hot on the heels of January's RamsgateFest on Relocation Relocation. All Channel 4 need to do now is get rid of That Bloody Awful Noel, and I for one will be supergluing their button down on my remote!

Time Team Special - Pugin: The God of Gothic, Thursday 1 March, 9pm

Quad Erat Demonstrandum

Pardon my pidgin Latin, but this was the sight that greeted me this afternoon as I went for my now traditional, ironic Sunday afternoon stroll along the beach in Margate. The whole place cordoned off and a scene of motorised mayhem!

Nonetheless, it appeared to have attracted a sizeable crowd of pit bull tugging petrolheads, so I suppose it must have had some benefit for the local economy.

There was even, it seems, some international interest. A Cathay Pacific 747 circled the beach at low altitude all afternoon, although the chances of it being crammed to the bulkheads with Formula 1 driving Hong Kong tycoons looking for a piece of the Margate action must, I would imagine, lie somewhere between zero and nil.

Barretts Homes

Fat Kev, my security manager, was only yesterday bemoaning the fact that he couldn't find an executive home in Margate. Now, it seems, his prayers are to be answered.

A regular in one of the more gruesome back street pubs told him that Barretts Soft Drinks in Tivoli Road have quietly shut up shop, with the factory site due to be handed over to the developers. It seems the fizz has gone out of the fizz biz.

No wonder FK seemed a bit bubblier today. I must ask my accountant how much I'm paying him.

The Tip Of Kent

One reader was so inspired by my recent post detailing a BBC weather forecaster's description of our part of the world that he's designed this natty shirt.

He's asked me if I would put the idea forward to our tourist board, but I can't see it enjoying a great deal of traction, as they say these days.

Although Kent Tourism might be interested. What with all the plans to concrete over the county, I hear they're considering renaming the place The Patio of England, so this could be the icing on the cake!

Greenhouse Omissions

CONSULTING YOUR INTELLIGENCE - A CORRECTION

Oops! I've had an email from occasional contributor Ron Councillor, correcting my previous post. Mr Councillor (not his real name) is one of the friendlier members of our local Dad's Army, albeit of the blue rinse variety. Think of him as a kind of Sgt. Wilson.

He writes:

I find your insinuation that the council does not consult with local people, or that we consult with them until they agree with us, quite insulting. Only this week we agreed to shelve plans for a development in King George VI park following vociferous objections. We have also blah Pleasurama blah pools blah Westwood blah blah blah etc.

The council have indeed called off plans to protect our world famous, early 19th century Italianate greenhouse from vandals by building 127 Wimpey homes around it, and I am happy to put the record straight.

Consulting Your Intelligence

Blimey! I was just changing Bertie's litter tray, and this fell out of the SadScene I was lining it with:


The local council's 'magazine', Thanet Pravda.

And inside that was this:


A survey about the provision of swimming pools in the area.

Not that I'm particularly interested, as I've got an Olympic size facility in the west wing, here at the old cliff top mansion. But a peremptory perusal elicited the information that our municipal baths in Margate and Ramsgate are indeed in a sorry state. Apparently they either need to be refurbished, or replaced with a single new pool built on a greenfield site.

Let's look at the options The Uranians are giving us:


Lumme! Not too difficult to tell from that which scenario the council prefers!

See My Ramsgate Movie Film

Meandering around the grubby back streets of the internet the other day, I chanced upon a rather anonymous looking blog in Russian which contained this entry:

Рамсгейт

(Ramsgate) — город в английском графстве Кент, на восточном берегу полуострова Танэт, в 100 км от Лондона. Отличные морские купанья. Безопасная гавань с двумя пристанями; маяк. Корабельные верфи, рыбная ловля, значительная торговля яйцами, плодами и др. Жителей (1891) 21733. В 3-х км морские купанья Бродстерз (некогда любимое местопребывание Диккенса).

Of course the word 'Ramsgate' caught my eye, so I popped the Cyrillic into the old AltaVista Babel Fish, and this was the translation:

(Ramsgate) - city in the English county Kent, on the eastern shore Of tanet peninsula, in 100 km from London. Outstanding sea bathings. Safe harbor with two piers; lighthouse. The dockyards, fishing, significant trade in eggs, by fruits and other inhabitants (1891) 21733. In 3rd km the sea bathings Of brodsterz (there is no time dear abode of Dickens).

Hurrah! The mystery was solved! Those creative types at the tourist board have commissioned Borat to make a publicity film for us, and I'd stumbled across the script!

The Edge Of Teh Known World

Yikes! My campaign to find a more euphonious description of our part of the world has suffered a bit of a setback.

While Jay Wynne was presenting the BBC weather forecast last night, he wafted his hand towards Thanet, er Kent's Ramsgate Peninsula, and declared: 'You may see some sunshine down there in the tip of Kent'.

P-lease! There may be a lot of rubbish on the streets around here, but The Tip of Kent is going a bit far if you ask me.

The Number Of The Beast

I see from the new tickerometer on my sidebar that 666 days have now passed since 'temporary' fencing was erected along our crumbling East Cliff.

Anyone of a nervous disposition would be well advised to keep away from the edge for the next 24 hours, in my humble opinion.

Foam And Away

The weather was so tickety-boo this afternoon that I thought I'd whip out my old throbber and take a wobble over to Margate for a gander at the Turnip Centre exhibition at the Winter Gardens.

By now those architect Johnnies must have come up with some pretty spectacular ideas for our 17m squid, I opined as I piloted my gleaming machine effortlessly towards the Arsonists' Playground.

At first, though, it was difficult to spot the, er, impressive model of our new flagship gallery within the cavernous expanse of the venue...


But then - there she blows!


Mind you, they haven't just been filing their nails all this time. Here's another...


Oh, and another...


And this one's the most spectacular of all...



A magnificent addition to the Margate seafront, I'm sure you'll agree. Now all it needs is some flowers to stick in it.

To be fair, the chap who was showing people around did say that final plans wouldn't be published until June. Of course, it would have been nice to have chatted it through with the design team, but I was told they were all out to lunch.

Belgian Bar Bust

According to the geologists over on Thanet Rocks, that is.

Chimps Key To Margate Regeneration Says Architect

Isle of Thanet Gazunder Exclusive

A stunning £17m monkey house will be the centrepiece of a new arts centre in Margate, according to the mastermind behind the scheme.

Speaking yesterday to a select group of councillors and members of the public who had telephoned for a ticket in 2005, he was upbeat about his design for the new onshore Anthea Turner Centre.

'We have to attract the public to this building, which is key to the regeneration of Margate as a whole. That is why we have placed performing chimpanzees and other cuddly mammals such as meerkats at the heart of the project,' he said.

Dressed casually in a green wig and red nose, he highlighted features of the new centre, which will include:

● Candy floss factory
● Sealion pool
● Jugglers (courtesy local constabulary)

And he promised that the building would delight the kids. 'At 3 o'clock every afternoon all four wings of the centre will drop to the ground with a bang and the wheels will come off.'

The centre is expected to cost £389m.

Puff The Magic Dragon

Tottering back from my favourite watering hole late the other night, I noticed a kerfuffle around one of those tawdry buildings in the back streets.

Soon after, several fire engines arrived and started pumping copious amounts of water into an upstairs window, from which smoke was billowing. One of the bystanders told me that the flat belonged to a commodities dealer called Trevor (which just goes to prove how City types are flocking to invest in Ramsgate).

It did strike me as a bit odd, though, that Trevor's bench and chairs were being carted across the road into the pub opposite. Thinking it was an act of kindness by the publican, I went over to congratulate her on her altruism.

'They're ours,' came the curt response. 'Trevor nicked them when we put them out last summer.'

I must say, standards in the Square Mile certainly do seem to be slipping.

Bored Witless

Blogland is about as interesting as a day out in Margate at the moment. And bugger all else is happening. Even Elton's stopped ringing.

Not only that, but there's only the one booking in the diary - an infomercial for this:


The Joy Mangano Handy Hook Mirror. Bev, my agent, said they wanted a supreme narcissist for the gig, and I was the perfect choice. Charming.

If this keeps up, I'll have to resort to the old corporate presenter's trick of copying huge swathes from other people's blogs and passing the stuff off as my own!

Ramsgate First, Margate Second

I see the Arsonists are now clamouring for their own teeny-tiny council, following the success of the Ramsgate First campaign for a miniscule municipality over here in the Ile's premier megalopolis.

If Margate are successful too, we'll all have some significant improvements to look forward to, judging by the impressive achievements of Boredstares Town Council, which is already up and running. Here's what the Dickensians have been up to according to their latest annual report:

● Installed fairy lights
● Narrowed their already narrow streets
● Moved their office from upstairs in Pierremont Hall to, er, downstairs in Pierremont Hall.

And all that for only £237,038!

And there are yet more exciting projects in the pipeline - just take a look at their upcoming agenda!

Korea Path

My campaign to re-style Thanet as Kent's Ramsgate Peninsula is already coming to fruitation, to purloin a phrase first coined by Kevin Keegan.

I've been getting expressions of interest from another peninsula, Korea, where Dr Horace Jeffery Hodges, who teaches at Korea University's Department of English Language and Literature, has followed up my recent post about peninsula envy.

I'm sure that as soon as I've mentioned that Karl Marx was a frequent visitor to Ramsgate, where he believed the air was good for his boils, Dr Horace will be writing the brochures!

May The Fourth Be With You

Crikey! It seems local election fever has Kent's Ramsgate Peninsula in its grips. But here's one way to even the odds. Regular reader Simon writes:

Dear Eastie,

I have been sent a letter by the council inviting me to help scrutinise the local elections which will take place on 3 May 2007. The count itself will take place the following day.

However, in order to qualify for this civic duty, I have been asked to go on a course which I must pay for myself. There is a sliding scale of payments for the training. So for just a few quid I can learn how to count, but for £200+ I can get to be a presiding officer.

Would you, by any chance, be prepared to sponsor me to go on this course?

Keep up the good work!

Simes

Well Simon, I'm a bit strapped for cash at the moment, what with just coming off a big tour, but I'm sure there'll be plenty of people willing to cough up the sponds. Have you thought about approaching your local councillor?

Have These Back Sides Blown Off?

Dear oh dear.


Tut tut. I heard there had been a Great Wind in these parts while I was away, but these shelters have been braving Great Winds since Victorian times. Were the missing parts blown away? I think I should be told.


Meanwhile the 'temporary' fencing has been creeping like ivy. It's now surrounding our brand new, super-duper, out-of-this-world bandstand.

Shocking News

Good Lord! The whole place has gone to pot since I've been on my southern sojourn! Here are the headlines:

● Dreamland to stay empty this year, apart from some half-arsed attempt to get the Scenic Railway running. As the only scenes that will greet passengers while their fillings rattle out will be an empty car park, I would argue that a case might be made to the Advertising Standards Authority.
● New improved Ike and Tina Turner Centre costs rise from £12m to £17m (not including the £8m spent on the old unimproved Ike and Tina Turner Centre).
● Tory councillor resigns after sending racist emails. No surprise there then.
● Temporary fencing along East Cliff now about as temporary as The Great Pyramid of Giza.
● Thanet Air Show ditches in the sea after organisers go tits up.

Which brings me to the most shocking news of all. Dr Biggles of Thanet Life has, in a move equivalent to a 50 year old man sporting a chunky gold chain from H Samuel, put his profile on MySpace. I ask you! For 'MySpace' read 'OldSpice'.

Still, his profile does reveal that he was 'bought-up in Westgate'. By the North Thanet Conservative Association, no doubt.

Cheering Crowds Greet Local Millionaire's Return

by Isle of Thanet Gazunder staff

Crowds of jeering (surely 'cheering' - Ed.) onlookers thronged London's Heathrow Airport as Ramsgate celebrity and millionaire Richard Eastcliff stepped off his flight from San Francisco today.

Looking fit and relaxed after a barnstorming tour of Australia, New Zealand and the US, Mr Eastcliff delighted crowds with his well-known catchphrase 'You can't get rid of me that easily!' as well as dispensing handfuls of Frangos to his waiting admirer.

Asked by the Gazunder whether he was dismayed by new crises encircling Dreamland, the Turner Contemporary, and Ramsgate's crumbling East Cliff, Sir Richard responded: 'Crises? What Crises?' He was later whisked away in a chauffeur driven limo.

Lord Eastcliff is 29.

Between The Rock And A Hard Place

Gazing wistfully at Alcatraz from my luxury hotel suite here in San Francisco, I can't help feeling homesick.

The Rock was the only place that enjoyed hot showers in the US prison system, installed so that inmates wouldn't become acclimatised to cold water. And what magnificent views! It reminds me somewhat of the old cliff top mansion. Time to return to Blighty, methinks.

The QM2 was in town on Sunday. The SFPD blocked off the centre of the Golden Gate Bridge, thus thwarting anyone who might have been planning a spectacular suicide by diving into the funnel. But she's gone now, so I'll just have to take up Sir Richard Branston's offer of a free Upper Class ticket.

I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing all the changes that will surely have taken place on Kent's Ramsgate Peninsula in my absence, viz:

● Dreamland transformed into Alton Towers style theme park
● Temporary Harris fencing removed from repaired East Cliff
● Anthea Turner Centre completed and bestowed RIBA award

Ah, there's no place like home!

BBC In Gillingham Map Mix-up

Isle of Thanet Gazunder Exclusive

The BBC has been forced to re-draw a map of England, after it confused Medway metropolis Gillingham with the sleepy Dorset town of the same name!

The embarrassing gaff was spotted by well-known Ramsgate millionaire and pedant, Mr Richard Eastcliff, who emailed the BBC from his California beach house.

The map, which was meant to show which were the noisiest and quietest towns in England, placed Gillingham as the fifth noisiest town, after Newcastle, Birmingham, London, Darlington and Doncaster (fourth equal). Although the mistake has now been corrected, the BBC has yet to apologise to Medway residents for moving them hundreds of miles to the west.


The BBC map with Gillingham in Dorset.


The BBC map with Gillingham now in Kent.

Full BBC story

Hurray, Hurray, It's A Happy Monterey!

The aquarium is the major attraction here in Monterey, CA. It attracts visitors, and school trips, from all over the USA and beyond.

Of course, it would be great to have a similar facility on Kent's Ramsgate Peninsula. Having discussed the ins and outs with the higher echelons of the aquarium (the nice fellow in charge of the petting pool), it would appear that all you need is a local boy made good (in this case David Packard of Hewlett Packard fame), who has a spare $53m to bestow on something that his daughter happens to be very keen on (marine conservation).

Does anyone know if Mr Godden's got a daughter? And might she be keen on dolphins???


Not so long ago the only way they used to conserve marine life here was by canning it. Whaling and seal clubbing were also popular pastimes, as the street name suggests.


But now Prescotts can bask safely on the rocks in the harbour.


Well, there's a short tour of Monterey for you. I'm off to get a delicious confection from the fudge factory, which is conveniently located next to the, er, fudge factory.

Peninsula Envy

Here on California’s Monterey Peninsula, I find myself once again making unfortunate comparisons with our own little piece of Kentish coastline.

Monterey's Cannery Row was the setting for Pulitzer and Nobel Prize winning author John Steinbeck’s 1945 novel of the same name, although he’s probably better known for his documentation of a lifelong medical complaint, The Arsegrapes Of Wrath.

Since I was last here in the early 90s, regeneration has transformed the place. There’s now a world class aquarium, which includes a petting pool for those who fancy a spot of fish fondling, along with hundreds of charming boutiques and restaurants. And, er, a couple of British pubs. For some reason, the locals seem to think British pubs are a bit chi-chi. Clearly they’ve never been in one of Frank’s.

Just down the road is the artists’ colony of Carmel, where the streets have no names, the houses no numbers, and Clint Eastwood was once mayor. The most famous artist in residence at the moment appears to be, um, Tony Curtis.

Anyway, the point is that with connections to famous artists and novelists, the place is thriving, just as Thanet should be. To my way of thinking there can only be one reason why we're lagging behind in the race to have the biggest peninsula. ‘Thanet’. Hasn’t got much of a ring to it, has it? I mean, really.

So from now on I’ll be running a campaign to re-brand the place ‘Kent’s Ramsgate Peninsula’. Much better.

Now all we have to do is wait for the tourists to flock!

Beverley Hills Flop

Looks like I've gone down like a cup of cold sick here in LA, but so what? All the houses in Beverley Hills resemble uberkhazis anyway, not unlike our very own Granville Theatre-ma. And Sunset Strip makes Westworld Cross look stylish!

So I've pointed the old Chevvy Malibu towards, er, Malibu. I've got a chum who lives in San Fran, so a pootle up the old Pacific Coast Highway is in order.

I must say, whenever I travel to the States, I'm always reminded of various third world countries I've visited. Beautiful scenery, but poorly maintained, badly lit roads. And don't bother looking for a sign to your next destination as you rattle along in your brand new car which sounds as if the hire company has gone for the bag of dessicated ferrets' knackers in the dashboard option, and goes round corners with about as much precision as an oil tanker.

And the money! It's all the same. Same size, same colour, just different beards and numbers! And their president's a nincompoop, but he's also in charge of their army!

Third world I tell you, third world.

Three Simple Steps To Having The Most Successful Blog In The World Ever

1. Make sure you have a profile photo which shows off your bald spot and latest H Samuel gold chain to best effect.

Three Simple Steps To Having The Most Successful Blog In The World Ever

2. Make sure you link to everyone. Use plenty of tags and don't forget RSS. And don't bother writing anything original, just copy straight from your new friends, although the occasional item about filthy Arabs will go down a treat, of course.

Always publish little and often, that way you'll always be at the top of any aggregation sites, such as the Thanet Bloglist Recent Feeds area.

Three Simple Steps To Having The Most Successful Blog In The World Ever

3. Voila! Your blog should now look like this! Congratulations!

Blown It

Twelve hours later and, thanks to the International Date Line, I'm back where I started. Monday the 29th of January. Just in time for lunch with Marti in Santa Monica.

Marti: So, tell me Dickie, whereabouts in England are you living?
Me: In a beautiful English coastal town called Ramsgate, about 90 minutes from London. I tell you, Marti old chap...
Marti: Yeah, Margate, I heard of that. Hasn't Cher got a place there?
Me: Yes, yes, I think she has been spotted there, but I tell you, Ramsgate is...
Marti: And I worked with a guy called Ray Winstone recently, did you see The Departed? He just wouldn't stop going on about Margate, and something you guys eat called jellied eels?
Me: Yes, er, yes, Ray is a bit of a fan, but getting back to Ramsgate...
Marti: You know, Ray's one hell of an actor. The first time we met for lunch, he blew me right away.
Me: Well, um, Marti, er, I think I'd have to get to know you a bit better first, or at least go and brush my teeth.

Another one bites the dust, methinks.

Dickie Goes To Hollywood

Bev, my agent, has managed to wangle me a meeting with Marti, who's remaking that marvellous 60s film How To Murder Your Wife. I'm up for the role played by the late, great, lovely Terry-Thomas, of course. So I'm off to California for lunch with the maestro.

Can't say I'm sad to leave Rotorua, really. There's a permanent stink here that's going to outlast religion!

Pedigree Plumb

Skilled workers are apparently just as hard to come by here in NZ as they are in the UK.

Even Polish plumbers don’t want to travel 20,000 kilometres to work, so the resourceful Kiwis have started training hounds for the job. Here we see GB ‘Good Boy’ Teat arriving for his first assignment of the afternoon, a faulty air conditioning unit in downtown Rotoroa.

I’m told these plumbing pooches have been such a success, discussions are now underway about the possibility of introducing dogtors in NZ’s hospitals.

Oh dear, I think this foul air is getting to me.

Who Cut The Cheese?

I’ve given Wellington the boot, along with Kenny, my road manager, after he rather ostentatiously chucked his Glo-Mesh on the shag pile over the type of mineral water being served at our luxury hotel.

Hence I’ve washed up here in Rotorua (try getting Wossie to say that), aka Fartopolis, in the thermal springs region of NZ’s north island.

Situated in the crater of a volcano, surrounded by whiffy old geysers, polite excuses such as: ‘Oops, I’m sorry, that must have been the dog’ are rendered entirely unnecessary in Rotorua. A bit like Boredstares Harbour after they’ve scraped all the sand away and flogged it to builders for 50p a ton.


This is Rotorua’s splendid Thermal Bathing Hospital. Opened in 1908, the gaff fell into disrepair when NZ’s NHS pulled out in the late 60s. It’s been restored, however, in the last 15 years or so, and is now luxury apartments. No, er, sorry, getting a bit confused there, it’s actually a beautiful public museum, gallery, and cafe.


These magnificent gardens have been here since Edwardian times, as have the bowling greens. Bit like Ellington Park, eh? Er, no, still a bit disorientated there.


Ah, now, here’s a memorial to some brave chap who died in the Boer War. Note the nose chopped off, various graffiti, er... nope.


Public works of art abound, and this one proves it’s possible to make a joke in Maori. Commissioned for the Millennium, it’s called ‘Waitukei’ (Y2K – geddit!?!?!!).

Blimey, NZ’s having a bit of a reactionary effect on me. I’m beginning to sound like one of those Thanet Lifers over on Dr Biggles’s blog. How is it, though, that a country which ranks a mere 34th in the world economic league, can put so much effort and resources into keeping its towns, parks and public spaces in such tip top condition, and all we can manage are luxury apartments, knackered khazis, car parks instead of pools and a derelict M&S?

Answers on a post card please to:

Richard Eastcliff
The Old Buffers' Home
Rotorua
NZ

Deluxe Accommodation

It was often said in the past that New Zealand was a rather old-fashioned country.

I hasten to emphasise 'in the past', lest I offend any of my Kiwi readers. Of course these days NZ is in the forefront of forward-thinking. Where else in the world could you jump from a great height with only a piece of elastic between you and oblivion, or roll down a mountainside encased in a transparent rubber ball?

One area where the country is still behind the times, though, is in the provision of toilet facilities. For some reason, the Kiwis have yet to replace the phrase 'spend a penny' with 'spend 99p in McDonald's'. Every small town, every picnic area is graced with clean, modern and free facilities.

I recently had occasion to visit one such 'super pooper'. The door closed at the touch of a button. Piped piano music played in case I fancied joining in with a trumpet concerto as I passed the banana. At the touch of another button, poo tickets were dispensed automatically. And when I went to wash my hands under the automatic tap, the dunny flushed in symphony.

There was even a bright yellow sharps bin in the corner, in case your diabetic Uncle Sid got caught short. And not a sign of that ubiquitous fellow Big Dick who appears to be perpetually 'seeking similar'.

Silly As A Bum Full Of Smarties

Phew! It's all go here in NZ! I've been busier than a one-armed bricklayer in Baghdad!

The act's going down well with the Kiwis. Maybe that's because it's so wet here you'd need an entire tanker load of fuel to set any kind of premises alight. Still, with petrol at 45p a litre, and diesel 35p, you wouldn't have to save up for very long.

Not so keen on the glitterati parties, though. Too many disco biscuits. It all gets madder than a clam's cock, as my road manager Kenny puts it. Not my cup of Earl Grey, really.

So for relaxation I've been doing a spot of souvenir shopping for some of the other bloggers on the Ile de Thanet. Here's my selection so far:


For our lamp-post-and-flagpole-erecting councillor Dave Green, I've picked up this natty, 45 metre wind wand from New Plymouth. Being constructed of fibre glass, it bends in the wind, giving an indication of strength and direction. A practical piece of coastal art which will look jolly splendid on the East Cliff, once that hideous temporary fencing is dispensed with. I'm sure Arts and Elbows will appreciate it too, as it was knocked up by world renowned Kiwi kineticist Len Lye.


The pies have it! Both the Aussies and Kiwis are obsessed with pies, so what better to bring back for Bignews Tony (Man Eating Sausage In Wenceslas Square) than a selection of NZ's finest? If I can get them through biosecurity, that is.


I wouldn't want Ramsgate Tourettes' Lucy Mail feeling right out in the cold, so I've purchased a pair of purple possum nipple warmers for the foamy one. I suspect she'll only be needing the one, but she can always keep the other in case she fancies getting a left out as well.


And finally, I thought this might tickle Justin Brown's fancy. Now, unlike a drug addict, he can wash his crack and enjoy it all over again!

Hare Balls In The Puke

Dining on Bug's Bunny's oven-roasted crown jewels in the Puke Ariki restaurant yesterday, it struck me that my current location, New Plymouth in Auckland, is not unlike Margate. Population 49,000. Right on the sea.

There the similarity ends, however. From my luxury suite on the waterfront, I can see joggers running along the new, 8km promenade they've just built. Boutique hotels, restaurants and B&Bs are springing up everywhere, with enough cafés to delight even the most hardened caffiend. Shops, galleries and public amenities abound.

According to the waitress who served up the knackers last night, this transformation from a rather dowdy port, 200 miles along an A road from anywhere else worth mentioning, to a thriving, bustling city has taken less than a decade.

I bet the Kiwis didn't spend £8m just thinking about it, either.

A to NZ

Well, the historic power station wasn't much to write home about. Here in Kiwiland, though, they appear to have similar obsessions.

Driving down from Auckland to my next gig in Wellington, I passed through Huntly, a coal mining town which is dominated by an enormous concrete construction which turns the coal into electricity. Right on the city limits, they've placed a giant sign which says: 'HUNTLY POWER STATION - OUR TAJ MAHAL!'

Hmm, that gives me an idea. Anyone for: 'RICHBOROUGH - OUR GREAT WALL OF CHINA'? It's got to help the tourist trade, surely?

Map Of Tassie

Best draw a line under that Margate gig. How was I to know that most Australian homes burst into flames entirely spontaneously on a regular basis?

I did meet one dedicated fan, though, who told me she only had two bookmarks on her browser – Google and Eastcliff Richard. She added that she once made the unfortunate mistake of clicking on Margate’s Very Own Alan Partridge’s blog, and had formed the opinion it was so dreadful, it must have been dreamt up by yours truly. I had to reassure the poor deluded woman that, despite being a confirmed fantasist, not even I could have envisioned a comic character as authentic as Mr Crackers.

So, time for a spot of sightseeing. Studying my map of Tassie, several tourist hotspots catch my eye, viz:

- Golf Museum. Hmm, perhaps a trifle dull.
- Sauce Factory. Maybe not enough time to catch up with that.
- Dismal Swamp. Er...
- Historic Power Station. Yep, that’s the one for me!

Then it’s off to wow the Kiwis. See you in Auckland!

The Margate Effect

Margate, Tasmania. Population 958.

The venue doesn’t look very promising for a post-modern, post-alternative comedy gig, but I’m going to jolly well give it my best shot. I expect I'll require more than one Cascade Draught just to get on stage.

Scouting around the town’s amenities earlier, I came across this:


A train that hasn’t pulled out of the station for many a year, now converted into shops. Unfortunately, not all of them appear to be thriving:


It’s enough to make a chap homesick!

Down Under To Margate

Smouldering bush fires! Bev, my agent, must have a kangaroo loose in the top paddock, as they say in these parts. She's only gone and booked me a gig in Margate. Margate, Tasmania that is.

I don't know, you travel 12,000 miles to the other side of the world, only to find you're in a seaside town called Margate, on an island off an even bigger island. Not only that, but they seem to have as many fires here as they do in the other Margate.

Oh well, at least the tucker's good. I'm beginning to develop quite a roof over my toolshed!

More Juicy Bits

10 March 2006

Krakatoa, East Of Ramsgate

Glancing through one of Thanet's more upmarket publications, an advertisement caught my eye.

"Add sophistication to your function," it said.

Sophistication, eh? That could be right up my street. I'm always on the lookout for ways to pep up my garden parties. What could it be? A troupe of performing Indian elephants? A Buckingham Palace-sized marquee, perhaps? Or maybe a new home performance service from the English National Opera?

"Add sophistication to your function. The Chocolate Volcano. Indulge in all of your desires. Details to hire the Chocolate Fountain etc etc"

You can imagine my disappointment.

Queen Of Australia

Well I seem to be going down a storm here in Oz! Already my first show (Kyneton RSL) is sold out, and I've been featured in the Herald Sun (today's headline: Tax On Rain!)

Tomorrow I'm viewing a $3m cliff top mansion in Sorrento, where I'll apparently be able to rub shoulders with such well-known names as, er, Anthony Baillieu and, um, Ken Roche AO (not sure what the AO stands for). Just a little bolt-hole for me when I'm in the southern hemisphere.

Oh, and I've been presented with an official commemoration 50c piece, marking the 50th anniversary of Dame Edna Everage. It's got Dame Edna on the front, and the Queen on the back.

Ah, the Aussies, they've got their priorities sorted!

Vindaloo - BBC2!

Continuing our retrospective season of the best of Eastcliff Richard here on ECR1, we've another chance to see some of those posts you may have missed the first time round. And don't worry if you miss them this time round either, because you can catch them again tomorrow night on ECR2, ECR3 and ECR4.

26 February 2006

Dream Scheme

More wailing and teeth-gnashing precipitated this week by news that the local council is to allow developers to concrete over Dreamland, the moribund amusement park on Margate seafront, over on the deeply unfashionable north side of the Ile de Thanet.

Currently well past its torch-by date, a few stalwarts have nevertheless banded together to save Dreamland, in the hope that it can be revitalised, much as Frankenstien's monster was, by a huge injection of something-or-other.

Meanwhile ASBO-wielding youths, Bryant and Mays at the ready, encircle the site, along with its 1,000,000,000 year old, listed wooden rollercoaster, ready to do the bidding of the first track-suited local property magnate to tip them the nod.

This all seems terribly backward. Instead of erecting yet another hotel/motel development for superannuated poodle-tuggers, why not go the whole hog, and turn the place into something that would really capture the imagination of the locals?

My proposal would be 'Arsonworld'. This would be a theme park loosely based on the film Westworld, starring the late, departed and dearly missed lovely Yul Brynner as an android who runs amuck, shooting the paying public who have come to re-enact the old, wild west.

The idea is simple. People would pay a small fee of, let's say, £30 to park their cars at the Dreamland site. They could then walk along the turd-strewn beach, enjoy a shopping trip to the local Poundstretcher, or savour a lard butty at one of Margate's trendy eateries.

Then, upon returning to their vehicle, they could enjoy the frisson of finding it burnt out.

Simple, exciting, money-spinning.

Relocation Relocation

Blimey, you turn on the telly and all you see is Ramsgate's East Cliff!

Channel 4 aired the first in the new series of its popular property programme Relocation Relocation this evening, featuring some London types who wanted a house in Kent, and a pied à terre in town. After looking at wanner be hotspots such as Whitstable and Boredstares, they settled on a cliff top mansion right here on the East Cliff.

Hang on. London types. Pied à terre. Cliff top mansion. East Cliff... er, I think the game may be up. I'm off to Oz!

The Great Incinerate Debate

I almost choked on my mint imperial on the way to my Chelsea pied-à-terre this morning, in preparation for my flight to Oz.

Thrashing the TT up the M2, I accidentally tuned in to BBC Radio London. Apparently there's a big stink about an incinerator they want to build in Bexley. All the old nappies from the well-to-do boroughs in West London are going to be shipped out to Kent, where the waft of burning Pampers will be less intrusive.

One chap phoned in to suggest an alternative location. "There's a disused power station between Sandwich and Ramsgate, why can't the bloody thing go there?" he blurted.

Yes. Jolly good idea. They're already building one incinerator at Richborough, they could just hide the other one behind it. In fact why not use them as cover for my nuclear power plant? Nobody will ever know. Perfect!

Blair Fare

I see Tony got himself in a pickle with the greens today, saying that he had no intention of giving up his SleasyJet holidays to Florida, Tuscany and Barbados. Even his environmental adviser, Lord Jonathon Porridge, was urging him to take more holidays at home for the sake of the planet.

Well, the answer was obvious, wasn't it? A quick call to Number 10, and my offer of a cliff top mansion in sunny Ramsgate for him and the missus was on the table.

If that doesn't get me a knighthood, lord knows what will.

Branson in a Pickle

7 February 2006

Our local BBC news deviates today from its usual diet of marrow growing competitions, mass stabbings, and mass stabbings at marrow competitions. Interviewed live from Florida is none other than Sir Richard Branson, the world famous entrepreneur and millionaire.

Apparently Sir Branston was due to fly over to Ramsgate International Airport with millionaire adventurer Steve Fossett (see below). He's probably booked himself a cut and blow dry at Sweeney Todd's, next to the pie shop. They specialise in the 'older man verging on a pony tail' look, which appears to be de rigeur around here.

Anyhow, Sir Pickle was bemoaning the fact that Steve's private jet couldn't take off after all, due to it having a bit of a leak and the wrong kind of wind. Sounds like one of his trains.

Many Happy Returns!

To me, of course, and to the Diamond Anniversary Dog himself, my old showbiz chum David Bowie.

There the similarity ends, though, as, unlike Bowie, I will not be turning down an MBE or a knighthood should one come my way.

Actually he's not much of a chum, either. The only time I met him, he grunted and told me to f*ck off.

Ile de Thanet - The Idiot's Guide

22 January 2006

So many of my London friends seem to mistakenly believe I have moved to Margate that I am now obliged to publish a short guide to the Ile de Thanet.

Travelling in a clockwise direction around the coast of the Ile from north to south, one encounters, in order:

Birchington - small seaside village with many clifftop residences for the 80s and over.
Westgate - as above but with even more chemists selling incontinence pants.
Margate - home of Tracey and future home of Anthea Turner Centre. Was once a thriving seaside resort until the pier blew down and most of the amusement arcades were torched by teenagers in tracksuits. Dreamland amusement park currently a nightmare.
Cliftonville - mostly torched.
Kingsgate - Some very posh residences, mostly owned by people who have profited from paying teenagers in tracksuits to torch amusement arcades, then claiming on the insurance.
Broadstairs - Charles Dickens apparently wrote some books here. Every year they have a festival devoted to him, and another devoted to wizened old men in beards drinking real ale and singing 'All Around My Hat' through their noses.
Ramsgate - the new millionaires' playground with high speed train links to London, a harbour and marina, frequent ferry service to the continent, and an international airport.
Pegwell - bit of a dump.

In the middle of the Ile, surrounded by fields of fart bushes, sits the brand new, £100m Westwood Cross shopping centre (see previous posts).

Big Down Under

Well the first class ticket's arrived, I'm off to Australia to tour with my one man show 'An Evening With Eastcliff Richard'.

I expect I'll get a bit of heckling, given the recent cricket debacle, but on the whole the Aussies seem to appreciate my self-deprecating Pommie humour.

I'll be keeping you up to date with my adventures in the big brown land but in the meantime, to celebrate the first anniversary of this blog, there'll be an opportunity to re-live all those hilarious moments of the past year again. A bit like BBC 2, but without having to pay the licence fee.

Nasty Comment

Oh dear. Judging by the rather vituperative comment appended to the post below, I appear to have upset one of my blue stockinged readers.

This is what happens when entertainers dabble in politics. I should have known better, I'm old enough to remember the outcry after poor, lovely, dearly-departed Kenny Everett screamed 'LET'S NUKE RUSSIA!' to rapturous applause at a Tory Party Conference.

Still, at least Kenny was a self-confessed Cupid Stunt.

Yellow Streak

As a liberal-minded entertainer (alcoholic, penchant for rent boys, that kind of thing), I'm getting pretty fed up with the way the blogosphere is being over-run by right wing twats.

It's almost as if that cheeky-chopped Mr Cameron has issued a directive from Central Office instructing his army of drooling underlings to get cracking and dominate cyberspace for the benefit of the blue stocking brigade.

Unfortunately I appear to attract these types, being a millionaire and well-known celebrity. If they bothered to read the lines, instead of taking me at face value, they would understand that not everyone with a bob or two is lining up behind them, dreaming of the 'good old days' when that mad bat was in charge.

Not that I'm a fan of our lying Prime Minister, either. Nope, I suppose if I was honest, I'd have to describe myself as a minger.

The House That Jack Russell Built

Staying with the topic of domestic animals, the canines round here must have had a good Christmas, if the size and number of barker's nests on the East Cliff pavements is anything to go by.

The one outside the old cliff top mansion recently would surely have required planning permission, although I suspect our local crap planning department were under the impression that it was only going to be single storey, rather than the full double decker.

So I'm going to get in touch with that nice Kevin McCloud from Channel 4's Grand Designs programme. He once featured a fellow who was determined to construct a house out of straw, so I'm sure he'll be interested in my proposal to for a poo house on the corner.

Claws For Concern

Yikes! After that horrific story about the poor girl who was mauled to death by a pit bull in Liverpool, I've been nervously scouring the internet to see if there's any advice about what to do when one attacks. Given the number of the beasts that are tugged around here on lengths of string, it seems only sensible.

So I was shocked to discover that Ramsgate has it's very own dangerous cat, which has so far savaged five postmen, one police officer, five paper boys, one takeaway driver and a construction worker. The one-and-a-half stone feline, called Blackie, belongs to security worker Ann Hogben.

"He really is a very loving cat - it just seems as though he has problems with people in uniform," she told the London Evening Standard.

Sounds like a fur ball excuse to me.

Mr Eastcliff was later arrested and charged with offences under the Dangerous Puns Act 1991

Full story

Sudden Rash

I say, that global warming mullarkey has brought out an early crop of spring blogs here on the Ile de Thanet, namely:

Bleak Mouse, a first effort for Boredstares, and
Thoughts From Thanet.

Admittedly just seedlings at the moment, but both show potential to blossom. Welcome, chaps, to the non-stop party that is Thanet blogging!

I should also mention the Planet Thanet Ale Festival blog, as I haven't done before, and anything to do with quaffing foaming jugs of The Gaddfather's finest, amongst others, has to be a good thing.

Now a confession. I removed a blog from my list recently, because it was getting on my proverbials, and wasn't even based on the Ile. The usual prize of a packet of Waitrose's finest Millionaire Shortbread to the first person to spot the missing link.

Down The Pan

With the skiing season almost upon us, I thought I'd pop over to Margate this morning and see those jolly chaps at Warreners in preparation for my annual trip to the Val d'Isere.

Trouble was, when I got there, they'd upped ski sticks and vamoosed. Next stop Woolworths, avoiding the door that's been stoved in after some nefarious doings last week. Great, they had plenty of copies of the DVD I wanted on the shelf. Er, no, actually all they had was empty DVD cases, the actual DVDs were out of stock.

Still, if I need to revamp the ensuite, the good news is that a new tile shop will soon be opening in the 'arty' old town. Presumably it will be called The Tile Gallery, to complement The Bathroom Gallery round the corner.

Now all they need is a Bog Gallery and a Bidet Gallery, and the transformation of Margate through arts regeneration will be complete!

Happy New Year!

There's no show tonight, so I thought I'd toddle back down to the old cliff top mansion. What a beautiful sunny day!

I must say, Ramsgate looks splendid in this light. And the Ile de Thanet must be very popular with tourists at this time of year, because when I stopped at the M2 services, and perused the pod containing all the Kent tourism leaflets, the 'Thanet Is Beautiful' slot was the only one that was empty!