Tories Gain An Extra Seat

As if I didn't open enough veins last week, now I find the blue rinsers with an even larger majority, according to today's Gazunder.

In the paper's double page spread headlined: 'Meet the people who are representing you' there are 34 Conservative councillors, one more than the official tally of 33. Who is the mysterious extra Tory? Step forward Dennis Payne, who polled 432 votes to take the, er, non-existent third seat in Westbrook, according to the crack team at the Gazunder Building.

Meanwhile the paper also credits Grey Party candidate Jane Burgess with another mysterious non-existent third seat in Bradstowe ward. And poor old Ramsgate Firster Mike Taylor's seat in Central Harbour has disappeared altogether.

Oh well, not for nothing does the Gazunder sport a true blue masthead!

Down And Out In Ramsgate Or London?

As regular readers will have no doubt surmised, I've not had much work lately, apart from an offer from P&O to support Jimmy Cricket on a Baltic cruise. And now that our monocular visioned, Prime-Minister-in-waiting's pals at the Bank of England have pumped up interest rates again, well, something's got to give.

So what shall it be? Sell the pied-a-terre in Chelsea and settle here in Ramsgate? Or flog the cliff top mansion and trundle off back to the village? It was this dilemma that was fevering the old Eastcliff brow as I tottered home from knocking back a couple of pints of the Gaddfather's finest at my favourite watering hole last night. Then a sign appeared.

They say that all life is in London, but I beg to differ. After all, where else, in the space of little more than 24 hours, and in the same street, can you witness a drugs raid, an open-air display of male micturation, and two chaps inflating rubber mattresses in the middle of the road at midnight?

Nope, there's no two ways about it - it's Ramsgate for me!

Separated At Birth?

Reader Samantha writes:

I wonder if anyone else has spotted a similarity between the photograph that newly elected Tory Councillor Simon Moores has put on his Thanet Life blog today to illustrate a post about our recently resigned Labour Prime Minister Tony Blair, and the photograph of himself that sits in the top right hand corner of the very same blog? Are they by any chance related?

Tory

Tony

Yellow River

Cripes! I'm going to have to change my route to the blasted newsagents. After almost being mown down by half a dozen burly rozzers on their way to a drug raid yesterday, this morning I came across a fellow urinating up against a building in precisely the same spot.

It's bad enough having to dodge the barker's nests, let alone tip-toeing through human waste as well. Needless to say all I got was a grunt and the finger when I asked him if he had a wee problem.

Sandy's Election Diary

Top politician Sandy Beach gives the Isle of Thanet Gazunder his exclusive insight into last week's election tussle.

Some tossers said we couldn't get elected for another four years. Yeah right. F*cking tossers. Tossers the lot of them. In yer face. In yer face. Do you wantsum? Do you wantsum? Geddit?!!?! F*cking tossers.

That's enough insight - Ed.

Weather Presenter Sprouts Rain Forest

Our lovely local weather presenter, Kaddy Tea-Pot, was sporting something a bit extra this evening. Unfortunately we're not oop north, otherwise I could have made some awful pun about her 'Wyre Valley'.

Still, shrubly weather for ducks at the moment, eh?

Nicked!

You go for weeks without seeing a bobby, and then six come along all at once!

Toddling down to the newsagents for my copy of Gra*ia just now, my glass eye nearly popped out of its socket as round the corner of Augusta Road marched half a dozen of our blue uniformed finest in stab vests. One was carrying a battering ram. My initial reaction was to rummage through the old grey matter in pursuit of any unpaid parking fines I may have neglected, but to my relief they brushed right past.

Naturally curiosity got the better of me, and I watched as they proceeded to make a forcible entry into one of those grimy residences on Truro Road. Much shouting and screaming from a top floor window, including the words: GET THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH NOW!, ensued.

One can only assume that they were on the trail of another of our talented local, er, horticulturalists. And they say nothing happens around here.

Ascension To The East Cliff

I must say I've rather taken to heart all this criticism that I don't give those hard working chaps at the council their due.

So to redress the balance here's a bit of good news. They've finally found the spare part for the East Cliff lift, and its now going up and down like a good 'un. And to celebrate my recently elevated (geddit?!!?) opinion of the Uranians, I've even dug out some archive footage from the last time it was working!

Private Functions Catered For

My very old chum Angina took a tumble from his Davros undercarriage on Sunday, and was admitted to the QEQM for observation.

He'd been to the 80s night at the Boredstares Pav, as is his wont, and had been careering home up the High Street in, er, very high spirits when the wheels came off. That's what he says anyway.

He's just phoned to ask if I can come and pick him up from the Discharge Lounge. Just like the old bugger to have headed straight for a club in Margate!

Scootermania

Over to Margate yesterday for a butchers at the old scooters and even older scooterists that had braved the bank holiday weather to attend the National Scooter Rally.

Scores of them had parked up in the 'piazza', and were tucking into plates of cockles and whelks from Mannings seafood stall, washed down with beers and frothy coffees from various establishments in the Old Town. A splendid sight, and many a nostalgic tear was shed by wizened old men reliving their youth as they stared dewy-eyed at Lambrettas and Vespas like the one above.

Indeed, far from resembling the kind of mad skinheads hellbent on trashing the joint that many Westgate residents, and our own Nervous of Clacton, were in trepidation of, most of the 'mods' looked well into their granddad years.

So as a celebration of all things scootery, I've ferreted out this marvellous piece of Italian kitsch from YouTube. It's a promotional film for Lambretta, extolling the virtues of a dance called the 'Lambretwist', and incontrovertible proof that mind altering drugs were pretty much mandatory back in the 60s. Enjoy!

Tory Story

Now that Lord Simes of Westgate has been elected a councillor 'at the edge of teh known world' (his words), I see he's wasted no time in blowing his own trumpet.

He's promoted his blog from a hitchhiker's guide to Thanet to one councillor's guide to Thanet, and instead of claiming to be Thanet's alternative newspaper it's now Thanet stories, humour (yeah right), ideas (er...), photos, politics, opinions, links and news (what, no recipes?), from Westgate Councillor Simon Moores.

No mention of affiliation to the Tories, though. Perhaps he's keeping his options open.

Thanet Goes Down The Gurgler

That's that, then. It's Blue Rinsers 33 seats, Labour 19, Independents 3, and Ramsgate First 1. If I were to clutch at straws, I suppose at least it gives us a bit of continuity. Continuity of incompetence and foul mouthed abuse, that is.

I see my arch nemesis, Dr Biggles, has polled the highest number of votes in Westgate-on-Sea. Congratulations Councillor Dr Biggles. Or would that be Dr Councillor Biggles? Protocol was never my forté.

I wonder if it's too late to have the stitches removed from that vein?

Car Crushing Councillor Rides Again!

I see our local car crushing, caff crushing, graffiti removing Councillor Dave Green has got back in. Congratulations DG!

Not only that, but my good chum (he waved at me from a carnival float once) Steve Ward the Mayor of Ramsgate is past the post!

Maybe I'll see about getting one of those veins stitched back up.

Not A Turnout For The Books

Woe, woe and thrice woe! According to the Uranians the turnout here on Ramsgate's East Cliff was a mere 28.9%, although this was not quite as baleful as on Ted's patch over in Dane Valley, where barely a quarter of the electorate could muster the energy to drag their Nikeed plates over to a polling station.

You can follow all the, er, excitement as the results come in here. I'm off to open the other vein.

Out For The Count

It's quiet. Too quiet. I suppose anyone who's anyone has pootled along to the jolly old Winter Gardens to watch the ballot papers being counted.

Judging by the rest of the country, it looks like we're in for another four years of Sandy and Co. I'm off to open a vein.

Poll Dance

Call me old fashioned, but I do like a good vote once in a while.

This is how I see it. I give the state squillions every year in tax. Four or five years pass. No annual general meetings, no shareholders' reports, no consultations, nothing. That's it. Then a bit of paper with some names on arrives, and I get to put an 'X' next to one of them.

If I walked into Harvey Nics once a year and wrote them a cheque for £100,000, and they said: 'That's great. We'll send you some stuff. And in a few years we'll hold a vote for the bloke who chooses it for you.' Well, I wouldn't be too impressed, would I?

But hey, that's democracy! So here I am, about to toddle down to the East Cliff's luxury, 12 star Comfort Inn, and perform my democratic duty. What are the choices?

Conservatives: The current incumbents here on the Ile de Thanet, but not for me I'm afraid, as I lived through the mad cow years. Yes, they've had a makeover, but can a cow really change its spots? And they've hardly been on a smarm offensive locally over the past few weeks. I'll admit some things have improved, but they've made a hash of the Pleasurama site, Dreamland, West Cliff Hall, the Theatre Royal, Ramsgate Library, our crumbling East Cliff, the list goes on.

Labour: I also lived through the lying Prime Minister years, so again not my favourites. Although locally they've done a pretty good job, with Councillor Green crushing cars and eyesore caffs, removing graffiti, erecting new lamp posts and improving road safety like some kind of crusading superhero.

Ramsgate First: I find myself mysteriously attracted to our chief teeny-tiny councillor, Gerry O'Donnell. Why? Well so much of the council tax we pay here in the Millionaires' Playground seems to end up subsidising the Tory heartlands in the north of the island. We're not, as Mr O'Donnell puts it, getting our 'fair share'. But then is an organisation with no obvious links to any of the mainstream parties ever going to get its voice heard? And then there's the ever-so-faint whiff of UKIP to consider.

Of course, as regular readers will know, I'm a self-confessed Minger and would ordinarily vote for the Invisiberals. But they're not standing here on the East Cliff, and they've only put up three candidates on the entire island. Still, they're known to have a yellow streak, perhaps they're running scared of the rather combative style of local politics around here.

Nothing In The Air Tonight

Holy smoke! According to the BBC, a Ramsgate chap has been jailed for nearly five years for running what is thought to have been the largest cannabis factory in the UK.

If you recall, the rozzers raided an industrial unit on the outskirts of town almost exactly a year ago in an effort to stop the entire town going to pot.

Full story

West Cliff 'All Use To Us

The future of West Cliff Hall, Ramsgate's former Motor Museum, is still in doubt.

Adscene trumpeted that the listed building had been given a 'new lease of life' on its front page last Thursday, complete with a photo of Our Sandy handing over the keys to representatives of the Global Generation Church, who propose running it as a community centre.

But according to a statement from the council's chief executive yesterday, a lease has yet to be signed, and the church group is only being considered as a 'short term', 'temporary' lessee. The statement adds: 'It appears that Global Generation Church invited Cllr Ezekiel to meet them at the property this week when the photograph was taken. Global were not authorised to have taken this action.'

You can read the full text of the statement on Councillor Green's Eastcliff Matters blog.

According to Global Generation's website the group was reformed in 2001 after some soul searching:

Global Generation took a more detailed look at why God would want a church in Ramsgate, out of this came the realisation that we wanted to be known as a Gift To The Town.

I'm sure their hearts are in the right place, but a much better gift to the town would be a long term solution to restore this wonderful building and bring it back to life for the benefit of all Ramsgatonians.

If you want to see just how neglected the exterior is, here's Philip Page's report on the state of the arts in Ramsgate from ECR TV a few weeks back:

Notting Hill On Sea v The New Millionaires' Playground

I'm playing host this week to one of the country's greatest living writers who's doing a bit of research for his column in The Sunday Telegraph.

He's been told that Hastings has been dubbed 'Notting Hill on Sea', and that Ramsgate is, of course, the 'New Millionaires' Playground'. Judging by the number of people who reach this blog by putting 'Ramsgate property' and 'Hastings property' into their google-iser, word has clearly got around.

So he's decided to spend a couple of days in both towns to determine the winner. He's already been to Hastings, which he describes as 'scuzzy' and 'terrifying in parts'. His initial thoughts on Ramsgate? 'Much nicer, and seems to have much more of a sense of purpose, with the harbour and everything.'

Of course, I'll be wining and dining him to the max over the next couple of days. This is one competition I'm determined Ramsgate is going to win!

Ramsgate: nicer than Hastings

Yak! Yak! Yak!

Phew! Now that Beelzebub's off my tail, I can get back to the seriously half-hearted business of keeping everyone here on Kent's Ramsgate Peninsula informed.

And the latest news is... er... well, the privet on Victoria Parade has been trimmed. Er... that's about it really.

However, I do appear to have become the local news hub for all things scootery. Derek from Sheppey wants me to tell you that the delightfully named Sid James Scooter Club is holding an end of May bank holiday rally at Sheerness. Now that a splendid new bridge has been built to the island, there should be no trouble getting there. And I'm reliably informed that, with travel to and from the island much enhanced, the new bridge has brought the added benefit of widening the gene pool, so it should be OK to go out after dark.

Other scooter news, and Nervous of Clacton has emailed me to say he is definitely NOT Tony Flaig, and his address is NOT... oh, I've just noticed he didn't want that published. And finally, Simon of Westgate would like it made clear that he has not spoilt everyone's fun at the National Scooter Rally in Margate this coming bank holiday by getting the camp site relocated to somewhere north of Great Yarmouth. Happy to make that clear, Simes.

The Number Of the Beast

Flaming omens! I've just noticed that I've posted 666 times since I began these jottings last year. So I thought I'd better stick this one up quick before I started coming out in boils.

Rich's Rich List

With the publication of the Sunday Times Rich List today, I've had my own team of researchers (Mr Ceaucescu (no relation)) assess our local zillionaires. Here's the Thanet top ten:

1. Lord Richard of East Cliff - £950m (Media and universal adoration)
2. Sir Roger de Courcey - £900m (Old people and hand puppetry)
3. Jimmy Dreamland - £600m (Property and amusement parks)
4. Sir Thorley Tavern - £500m (Fags and booze)
5. Lord Sir Dr Moores of Westgate - £200m (Ads and droning on)
6. Robert Builder - £150m (Luxury apartments)
7. Sandy Beach - £80m (Carpets)
8. That Bloke From The Costcutter - £34m (Groceries and tourism)
9. Ronnie Corbett - £46 (Kiosk)
10. Sir Richard Branston - 38p (Begging on Victoria Parade)

Much the same as last year, with the exception of That Bloke From The Costcutter who's soared into the top ten following the success of his £1000+ cruises from London to Ramsgate.

Lamp Standards

Harking back to that lamp post yesterday, I'd just like to make it clear that it wasn't in any way meant to be a slur on the brave lads and lasses at Kent Highways, who do a difficult job, often under dangerous circumstances.

No, it was rather directed at the 'higher ups' who have clearly made a decision that Wellington Crescent deserves less than gold standards when it comes to the new lighting along there. The new posts are definitely not of the same quality, calibre or character as the ones they erected along Victoria Parade last year. They're not black (yet - but let's hope they paint them soon), and I counted at least four which were just the old lamps with new bits bunged on them.

Why? Search me, guv. Perhaps one of my frequent KCC readers would like to explain.

Did The Earth Move For You?

Dozing in my Comfilux bed here at the old CTM this morning, I suddenly became aware of a violent shaking.

My initial thought was that I might be dreaming, but as the vibrations continued for more than several seconds, and the entire bed appeared to be wobbling, a small feeling of panic started to ensue.

My immediate thought was that our crumbling East Cliff had finally given up the ghost and toppled onto the Pleasurama site below. Or that a very heavy truck, possibly carrying wage packets for senior council officers, had rumbled past and shaken the building.

But no, it appears to have been an earthquake under the Channel a few miles from Dover.

Air Con

I see that two men have been jailed at Canterbury Crown Court for stealing a jet engine from RAF London Kent Ramsgate Manston International Airport.

Rodney Matthews, 47, and Mark Cooper, 37, both from Tooting, were given 18 months and 30 months respectively. The thieves were caught on CCTV as they used heavy lifting gear to steal the engine from a locked compound.

Defence for Cooper described him as 'a simple man of fairly limited intelligence' who 'didn't realise he was stealing aircraft engines, he thought he was stealing air conditioning units'.

Just in case anyone is thinking of committing a copycat crime, here's an air conditioning unit:

And, um, here's a jet engine:

Full story

Old Lamps For Old

Good to see Kent Highways' contractors out yesterday installing the new, long-awaited 'heritage' lamps along Wellington Crescent. Of course, we had ours changed along Victoria Parade a year ago.

There's something rather odd about these 'new' lamps though.

They're not actually new. They're just the old lamps with new tops and a couple of fancy bits from B&Q bunged on them.

Presumably someone will come along and paint them black at some point, so they at least look half convincing, but I won't be holding my breath. Honestly, what a cheap trick!

Prayers Come True For West Cliff Hall

Hallelujah! According to today's Thanet Sadscene, Ramsgate's crumbling West Cliff Hall has finally been leased. The Global Generation Church will be running it as a community venue, and is going to spend the next year renovating the dilapidated building. They're promising a juice bar, cream teas, rock school and a pie factory (bit ambitious that last one if you ask me).

Council leader Sandy Beach, who's pictured on the front of the paper handing over the keys, must be praising the lord that yet another eyesore has been sorted in time for the local elections.

Curses! First the library rebuild, now this. No sooner do I knock something than it gets put right!

Floppy Stroppy

My old matinee idol chum seems to have got himself into a spot of bother again. Normally he's a mild mannered sort of cove but, as they say, still waters run deep.

I remember him spitting his dummy at our annual Water Voles Cricket XI dinner back in the 90s, just after he'd been in Four Weddings. Our captain had spent the entire evening teasing him relentlessly regarding repeated rumours (eat your heart out Wossie!) of a dalliance with Our Madge. In fact a story about her telephoning him and inviting him out to dinner had appeared in the Evening Standard that very day, and the journalist who wrote it was sitting at the same table.

Half way through the main course there was a frightful din and a clatter of cutlery. I looked up just in time to see the floppy-haired one storming out the door.

We never saw him again. He went off to the States, where, if you remember, he found someone to suck his dummy for him.

Mods (And Rockers)

I see Margate is due to be invaded by gangs of bikers this coming Mayday Bank Holiday. Well, rather smartly dressed scooterists in actual fact, so that should be a welcome change from the normal riff-raff you see along the Golden Mile.

My only worry is they're coming for four whole days. What on earth are the poor sods going to find to occupy themselves?

Even Boredstares is getting in on the two wheel act in its own sedate way, with a Mods and Rockers Reunion being held at the Crampton Tower Museum on the 19th and 20th of May. I expect that'll just be a couple of hairy bikers in Victorian bathing costumes.

Thanet 'May Support Life' Say Boffins

By Isle of Thanet Gazunder Science Editor Tess Tube

Scientists have made an amazing discovery - a Thanet millions of miles from our own which may even support intelligent life!

Top university boffin Dr Terry Scope, 42, told the Gazunder: 'It's an ocean world consisting of land surrounded by seas not dissimilar to here. We're very excited.' But he added it would take many years to get to the new Thanet, even by bus.

And he warned that we may well find the people there very different: 'We may not recognise them at first. For example, they may stand upright with their knuckles well off the ground and look quite smart.'

Communicating with the new Thanetians may also pose a problem. 'They might pronounce their consonants and be unaware of traditional greetings we use here such as 'Ello yer old c*nt and Got any spliff?'

Dr Scope is 42.

Ramsgate First First, Labour Second, Tories Third

No, not a prediction of the local election result by my clairvoyant showbiz pal Mystic Meg, but the order in which their campaign leaflets have plopped through my letterbox.

Curiously I've yet to hear from the Mingers. Maybe that's because they've given up the ghost round here. Or maybe they're conducting an invisible campaign, in line with their policy of electing an invisible leader.

Please Take A Fence

Stone the crows! I see from the counteruppything on my sidebar that it's two years today since the local council erected 'temporary' fencing along our crumbling East Cliff here in Ramsgate. And far from being 'temporary', the darn thing appears to be growing like topsy!

Now the East Cliff Residents' Association have appended these tasteful signs to the council's ugly erection. Not usually known for their direct action, I hear the ERA are also preparing to storm the barricades and dive like human lemmings onto the deserted Pleasurama site below.

Speaking of which, it seems like only six months ago (because that's how long it is) that our glorious council leader Sandy 'Just Put Your Face In Mine' Beach was pontificating on the BBC about the new deal he'd signed with the Pleasurama developers. Since when... nada.

And it seems like nearly a year ago (because that's how long it is) that Sandy said on Thanet Life:

Let’s start with the issue of the cliff face. It’s the Council’s responsibility to maintain the coastline. Here we’re lucky enough to enjoy 26 miles of beautiful coastline and stunning beaches, but with that comes responsibility and this is one of those cases. The problems here were identified as part of our programme (of) coastal defence surveys and we will be carrying out work here in due course.

Since when... you guessed it.

Still, it's not all bad news. Apparently our Sand's also promised his Tory chums a resounding victory at the local elections on May 3!

Cycling Squad

Reader Clive has sent in this photograph of a couple of our fearless local law enforcers getting on their bikes to patrol Ramsgate's wild east.

I've heard of drugs being pedalled in those grimy back streets, now the rozzers are responding by pedalling two-wheelers. A swift bicycle clip around the ears should put any miscreants back on the straight and narrow! Just give them a bell, and they'll put any picksprockets they catch in a chain gang, or behind handlebars!

Oh dear, I think I'm having one of my turns.

Hurray! Hurray! It's A Public Holiday!

Well, er, no, it's not actually. But there are many people who believe that today being St George's Day, it should be. So I'm taking the day off.

Not that I'm one of those little Englander types, you understand. Just a lazy blighter grabbing any excuse to do bugger all.

Westwood Housing Scheme Makes Tony Cross

I was wondering where Mr Ceacescu (no relation) had dashed off to yesterday. He was last seen heading in the direction of Westworld Cross in his BMW.

It would seem that he met up with Margate's very own pie-devouring superblogger, Tony Flaig. Together they've made a short film for ECR TV about the new housing estate that's going to be plonked there, and the lack of forethought on the planning front.

Not a bad first effort for Mr Flaig. And, even more gratifyingly, it didn't cost me a sausage!

Ball Trouble

Good lord! According to the front page of yesterday's Isle of Thanet Gazunder, our glorious Tory council leader almost came to blows with the Labour Mayor of Margate at a black tie ball last weekend.

As the less than civil civic occasion was drawing to a close at Margate's Winter Gardens, the mayor is said to have approached our Sandy at the bar, only to be met by a tirade of abuse. The top Tory and former pugilist is alleged to have called the mayor a 'f*cking tosser', and said to another Labour councillor who attempted to intervene: 'Come on, just put your face in mine.'

In his defence, Sandy claims he was 'set up' and had snapped after enduring months of racist comments from the mayor.

Whatever the truth behind the story, we all know that the level of debate from the Conservatives here on Kent's Ramsgate Peninsula is sometimes less than parliamentarian. I myself have been called a 'left wing c*nt' and 'middle class pratt' by the blue rinsers, so personally I'd say the mayor got off lightly.

Sandy: 'F*cking tosser'

Lost In Translation

Thanks to the Thanet Bloglist Recent Feeds page, I've become an avid reader of the adventures of our Spanish chum who's here in Ramsgate to learn English. He runs a blog called Mi Vida en RAMSGATE and recently went on a trip to the New Inn in Sandwich (Emparedado).

I left a comment to make him feel at home:

What ho old bean! Welcome to the Millionaires' Playground. Hope you have a splendid stay!

And as his blog's in Spanish, I translated it using the old Alta Vista Babel Fish thus:

¡Qué vieja haba del ho! Dé la bienvenida a los millonarios al patio. ¡Esperanza usted tiene una estancia espléndida!

Strangely, though, he hasn't responded. As I read his blog using the aforementioned Babel Fish, and have occasionally become alarmed at sentences like Every morning I get up and ignite the television, I thought it best to check what I'd said by translating my welcoming message back into English:

How old haba of ho! Give the welcome to the millionaires to the patio. Hope you have a splendid stay!

No wonder the poor lad hasn't got back to me, he probably thinks I'm a nutter. Still, at least we now know how the writers of Doctor Who manage to come up with all those other-wordly names week in, week out.

Littoral Litter

The amount of litter on Britain's beaches has increased by more than 90% since 1994, according to an annual survey by the Marine Conservation Society. Top ten items found on the beach were:

1. Pieces of plastic, 1cm-50cm; 13.2%

2. Cotton bud sticks; 8.6%

3. Pieces of plastic, less than 1cm; 6.2%

4. Crisp/sweet/lolly wrappers; 5.6%

5. Polystyrene pieces; 5.5%

6. Plastic caps/lids; 5.4%

7. Rope; 4.3%

8. Cigarette stubs; 4.2%

9. Plastic drinks bottles; 3.9%

10. Fishing net; 3.3%

Well, maybe on Margate beach, but here in the Millionaires' Playground we have a better class of litter. Having combed the sea shore this morning, here's what I found:

1. Fortnum's picnic hamper
2. Copy of Country Life
3. Seven bottles of Dom Perignon
4. Five bottles of Krug
5. Apple iPhone
6. Two jars of Gentleman's Relish
7. Pair of Prada sunglasses
8. Chemical toilet from Sunseeker Portofino 35
9. Porsche Cayenne (minus wheels)
10. Bentley Continental (burnt out)

As you can see, even the cast offs are classier in Ramsgate!

Yo Ho Ho And A Bottle Of Dom

As promised I've been out and about with the old Box Brownie to bring you some snaps of the tall ships that are currently moored in Ramsgate's Royal Harbour (one night only).

Forest of masts...

and, er, more masts...

offering plenty of opportunity for jigging in the rigging...

as the local millionaires soak up the Monte Carlo style sun and lattes!

Tall Ships Story

News from Uranus reports:

Ramsgate’s Royal Harbour Marina is today (Thursday 19 April) welcoming one of Europe’s biggest classic sailing ship races.

The Race of the Classics involves a flotilla of 18 tall ships, which left Rotterdam earlier this week, before making their first stop at Ostend. They then sprinted over to Ramsgate, the only British stop on the route, and, from there, the ships will spend tonight in the town, before returning to Amsterdam, leaving Ramsgate tomorrow morning (Friday 20 April).

The race is now into its 19th year and is organised by students, with the ships crewed by a mixture of international students, accompanied by professional sailors, all competing for the Heineken Challenge Cup. It is the largest event of its kind in Europe to involve non-professionals on tall ships.

Head of Maritime Services Dominic Evans said: “The Race of the Classics is a stunning sight and we are delighted to welcome them back to Ramsgate, the first time they have made a stop here in three years. The last time they visited us in 2004, they attracted huge crowds to welcome the students and sailors to the country. If you haven’t had a chance to see the ships before, it’s well worth a visit as they look completely at home in the beautiful setting of Ramsgate’s Royal Harbour Marina.”

I'll put up some piccies later. Meanwhile, if you're very lucky, you might just catch a glimpse of them on the Ramsgate Harbour webcam.

Tall ships off Ramsgate this morning

Deafening Silence

Oh well, there you go. My email to the top Tory toff asking whether it was his party's policy to condone paedophile bashing has fallen on deaf ears. Not a sausage.

So I've decided to have a spring clean, as you'll notice from the sidebar on the right. With 10,001 new visitors to this site in the past week, it's about time I had a tidy-up.

And if any of you local oxymorons find yourselves here by mistake and are looking for a way out, just hit the link that says Pond Life.

Ramsgreat!

Regular reader Claire writes:

Some friends of mine recently bought a penthouse flat in a refurbished building in Ramsgate. They paid a lot of money for it and keep going on about Ramsgate being the new black!

Well Claire, we've all heard about spring being the new summer, and porridge being the new soup (which was the new capuccino), but Ramsgate the new black! Just goes to prove that the place really is the new Millionaires' Playground. And that's confirmed by a recent report from findaproperty.com:

But what of the hotspots for the year ahead? Forget Kensington and Chelsea: Colchester, Ramsgate, Luton and Slough are the best places to watch your investment grow.

And that confirmation's confirmed by yet another reader, Alice, who's a wannabe DFL:

I have tried several times to buy a property in Augusta Road, but each time I've been gazumped!

It's a shame you've missed out, Alice, so by way of consolation here's a picture of Augusta Road for you:

Augusta Road: gazumpers' paradise

Scooby Don't

Is it me, or are the writers of BBC1's Sea of Souls recycling old plotlines from Scooby Doo?

Watching the first in the new series last night, I was half expecting some ne'er-do-well to be de-masked and carted off to jail uttering the immortal lines: 'Why, if it wasn't for those pesky paranormal psychologists...'

Ramsgate First First

Hurrah! The first piece of local election literature plopped through my letterbox this morning, and it's from those Ramsgate First people who want their own teeny-tiny council here in Kent's answer to Monte Carlo.

Couldn't see much in the way of policies, though, apart from repeated and, to be frank, rather repetitive reassurances (eat your heart out Wossie!) that they want to put Ramsgate, er, first.

Still, they're hoping for a swathe of teeny-tiny councillors, and promise 'we do as you say', so I might pop round to their HQ at 45 King Street later on and suggest they wear their Reg Grundies on their head and go 'wibble'. That should liven the local political scene up a bit!

Pirates!

Strolling along the prom this morning, I spotted a medium sized vessel anchored just off the Millionaires' Playground. Upon whipping out the old binocs, I could just about make out that it was the MV Patricia.

Thinking this might be the long awaited Roman invasion, I scurried back to the CTM, fired up the Del Boy laptop, and headed straight for google, expecting to discover that the MV Patricia was one of my Russian millionaire friend's floating gin palaces.

Sadly I was eventually disappointed, as it turns out to be a Trinity House vessel. Although I did experience a brief frisson when I noticed the pirate station Swinging Radio England had broadcast from a similarly named ship in the 60s.

Now there's an idea! Anyone for Wonderful Radio Ramsgate?

And It's Goodnight From Him

There were several reasons why I started this blog. Principally it was meant to be a bit of fun. And an occasional antidote to the simpering, Daily Mail hypocrisy of our Greatest Living Thanetian. I think you know who I'm talking about.

It's not much fun, however, to be labelled a paedophile by some knuckle-dragger who Dr Simon Moores' claims to be one of his supporters, and even less fun to be told that there are 'several peple already who want to put me in a coma'.

It's an irony that the most abusive, foul and violently aggressive comments that have been made about me have come from Tory supporters, a party that claims to put law and order at the forefront of its policies.

Well bollocks to them.

Abuse

Apologies for the lacuna but I've been consulting with my wolf pack of highly trained media lawyers following abusive comments about yours truly placed on the One Voice in Thanet blog. I am reprinting these comments here, as I have been advised by m'learned friends that by doing so I may well be able to sue myself, as well as the anonymous perpetrator, for a substantial sum. Here's the first:

ECR and One Voice share so many attributes. Their many and varied achievements in Thanet are there for all to see. Their rapier wit and immense courage in tackling the issues of the day is legendary. We, the people of Thanet should be forever grateful to these two paragons of all that this country now stands for. On a personal note, I just wonder how they are able to walk the streets of Thanet without the benefit of spines, unable as they are to identify themselves with their rather hysterical outbursts. Two FICTIONAL characters slagging off REAL PEOPLE. What a joke, ECR is a middle class patronising pratt, unloved by Mummy and Daddy who feel he has to explain things to the people of Thanet because we're too thick to understand current events. One Voice has yet to master chewing gum and walking at the same time.

Which was followed by a further example of shining wit:

Friday 13th April. Shock horror! ECR & One Voice are the same person. ECR sobbed on local radio this morning "Yes its true. One Voice and I are two halves of the same moron". "Its time to tell the truth at last. I CANNOT reveal my identity now because the Police are still scanning my hard drive and video collection. My credit card was stolen and used to download pictures from the internet. The pictures on my hard drive (as I have explained to the authorities) are simply resaerch for my book on the corruption of youth. The fact that between 3 and 4 pm most weekdays I'm outside wearing a large raincoat whatever the weather when I sit in the local park is (again as I have explained) mere coincidence. If a certain law gets passed I may have to move or no longer register myself as there are several people alredy who want to put me in a coma. Hope you my TRUE adoring public will understand this quite innocent set of unfortunate circomstances".

To put these comments in perspective, I had earlier commented on the same post that I found Simon Moores' Thanet Life blog 'nauseating'. These comments appear to be the Wildean riposte.

I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions.

SITE SUSPENDED FOR LEGAL REASONS

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.

Lie-in Detective Test

I'm having a bit of a snooze under the duvet today in the hope that a blonde, 26 year old lady rozzer will come round and turf me out of bed. As they apparently do if you're a pupil at Marlowe Academy in Ramsgate.

Kids today, eh? They get all the perks!

Not A Pretty Site

Holy tamoly! I see one of our local websites, Thanet Council Information and Critique, has been got at by some internet sleaze merchant. It now promises 'ebony pics', 'big cock porn' and a 'mature bitch'.

Or it could, perhaps, be that something has slipped into the water around here from that Pfizer factory in Sandwich, given the front page of today's Thanet Times, which reports that the Pegwell Bay nature reserve has become a hotspot for open air orgies.

Curiously the paper also cites the prevalence of 'dogging' in the area, but I can't quite see the connection. As far as I'm concerned they've got to walk them somewhere, and as long as they clear up the mess behind them who are we to criticise?

Fun In The Sun

As temperatures here on the UK's Costa Cutter soared into the 90s yesterday, I decided it would be a splendid opportunity to check out how the tourist trade was coming along. So it was on with the leathers and onto the old throbber for a quick thrash around the island.

First stop Ramsgate, and as befits Kent's premier Monte Carlo style resort the place was heaving. Versace wearing, Ferrari driving millionaires were parked up along the marina, sipping lattes and nibbling ciabattas outside the continental cafes on Harbour Parade. It might have been the croissette, if it wasn't for the knackered old jets taking off from RAF London Kent Ramsgate Manston International Airport every ten minutes.

Next Boredstares, and despite the strange moustachioed men in Victorian bathing costumes giving some of the young middle class mums cause for concern, the joint was jumping. The experiment in converting the wibbly-wobbly jetty into a new beach is coming along a treat too. The sand now obscures all those boring white lines in the car park, so I was forced to place my gleaming machine on top of a Sharan load of chip munching nippers that had hogged the bike bay.

Then Margate. The unmistakeable smell so beloved by Ronnie Biggs was in evidence, but even I will admit that the front was packed. Albeit mainly with second generation unemployables wheeling the third generation along in pushchairs.

I pushed on to God's Waiting Room, Westgate, but as advertised the place was dead. Or at least heavily sedated. Not for nothing is the mini golf course on Westbrook front called Strokes.

Eastercliff Richard

At the risk of engendering the kind of moral outcry that rained upon John Lennon in the 60s when he claimed the Beatles were bigger than Jesus Christ, I think it's only appropriate to reveal today that I am now officially bigger than Saint Cliff.

I have consequently decided to put myself up for election as Archbishop of Canterbury, as I have clearly been placed on this earth to make your humble lives a little better. I shall therefore be appealing to a 'higher authority' to have the incumbent deselected forthwith on the grounds of being in possession of dangerous eyebrows.

I realise that someone of my ability and intellect being thrust into such a prominent position at such a young age may well attract criticism, but please be clear that my critics are sick and twisted individuals who are motivated solely by envy of my undoubted talents and achievements, which are too varied and numerous to list here.

Let me say right now that, far from being arrogant and self centred as some have claimed, I am a man of the people and would be more than happy, perhaps on less formal occasions, for you to be seated in my presence. Here endeth the first lesson.

Glued To The Blog

Urgh. Must have had an off pint at the Beer Festival yesterday. The world's just fallen out of my bottom. On second thoughts, though, it's more likely to be something to do with the Thanet District Council regulation hot dog I indulged in after the tenth pint.

Talking of which, that flying doctor chappie over in Westgate appears to have developed blogarrhea. Ten posts in less than two days, and some of them very loose indeed. There must be an election on or something.

Ten Things I'd Like To Do In Thanet Before I Die

Scanning through the current edition of Isle magazine, I can see at least three things to do in Thanet that have already dropped off their list in the few short weeks since the magazine was published, viz:

Drink in ale and art (at the Belgian bar). Nope, it's gone bust.
Ride the scenic railway. Nope, Waterbridge aren't going to open the Dreamland site this year.
Dress for the theatre. Er, nope again. The council have bought the Theatre Royal in Margate so they can close it for six months.

And that's if you discount the huge photo of last year's Kent Air Show, which is also, alas, no more. So I've put the old thinking cap on and come up with a shorter, alternative list of things I'd like to do in Thanet before I die:

1. Walk along Ramsgate's East Cliff undisturbed by temporary fencing.
2. Have a latte in one of the cafes in the new Pleasurama development.
3. Borrow a book at Ramsgate library.
4. Gawp at some Monets in Ramsgate's West Cliff Hall.
5. Gawp at some Turners in Margate's Turner Centre.
6. Buy some undies in the M&S on Margate High Street.
7. Buy anything on Margate High Street.
8. Amble along the front without getting Barker's nests on my shoes.
9. Drive to Westworld Cross in less than an hour.
10. Go to a fun park which has anything more exciting to see than a stuffed hippo.

Please bear in mind that I am 29 and can therefore expect another 50 years at least.

Top Beer

I must say I'm getting very excited about the Planet Thanet Easter Beer Festival.

Beer o'clock is at noon tomorrow and Saturday, with stretchers at 10.30pm both days. Sadly the festival has relocated this year from the Millionaires' Playground to the Winter Gardens in Margate, so I'll be wearing my CelebProtect Kevlar stab vest to and from the venue just to be on the safe side.

The organisers are promising thousands of different beers and ciders, including a reconstruction by Ramsgate's very own Gaddfather of Ale of an ancient brew from Margate's now defunct Cobbs brewery, along with all the old favourites such as Nadgers Old Jockstrap and the rather fine Tossingtons 'Wibbly-Wobbly' India Pale Ale.

So - be there or be, er, sober!

Ramsgate's Burning! (Again)

Flaming caffs! I'm just getting reports here in 'the smoke' that one of those restaurants in Harbour Street has gone up in flames. My sources back in Ramsgate say the stench of cremated chicken parmaganas has been pouring across the town from Cavallinos since lunchtime.

That's one more place the tourists won't be flocking to during the Easter break then.

Beach Blankets Broadstairs

Talk about the blinking tail wagging the dog. Mr Ceaucescu (no relation) now tells me he's so busy with ECR TV, in between what he terms 'masticating' the new Villeroy and Boch chinaware here at the old CTM, that's he's now got me running errands for him.

So yesterday afternoon I found myself in Doyles Psychic Emporium over in Boredstares High Street looking for a set of healing crystals. Afterwards I decided to take a wander down to the Dickensians' teeny-tiny harbour for a lungful of invigorating ozone.

Imagine my surprise to discover their wibbly-wobbly jetty virtually knee deep in sand! Oh well, it's probably for the best. There are only a couple of old tubs bobbing up and down in the 'harbour', so converting it into an extension of the beach will be no loss. Plus it'll give them even more scope to romp around in Victorian bathing costumes!

Radiological Conclusion

Yikes! It seems I've dropped a bollock calling my media outfit ECR TV. Something by the same name already exists - take a look!

The European Congress of Radiology's TV station even features a 'sketch' in which Dr Paul Dubbins performs a rib-tickling impression of a grumpy old codger. Spooky. Other delights for your televisual entertainment include novel techniques in breast imaging, and a gripping debate on whether prostate MR should be performed by specialists or beginners.

Somehow I don't think Corrie's got anything to worry about, but it might just prove more popular than Sky 1's latest primetime effort Corkscrewed which pulled in just 53,000 punters (0.29% of the available audience) last night.

Around Thanet In Two Minutes

This latest masterpiece from the studios of ECR TV does exactly what it says on the tin!

Please Fence Me In

Regular reader Rachel from Ramsgate writes:

Richard, I love you. I think you are the wittiest, most talented person I have ever met. Please let me have your babies.

No, no, ha ha, no, I, er, made that bit up. Sorry Rachel. No, here's what she actually wrote:

Dear Eastcliff,

I was intrigued to see your item yesterday about the Lesser Spotted Fly Tippers. I walk to work every morning past the back of the Granville and the waste land at the back of the building looks more and more like a landfill every day. Most of the rear fence to this site blew away in the gales back in January and it has never been replaced. I'm sure it's attracting fly tippers every day as access to what is just a hole in the ground is very easy and Oakleigh Developments who appear to be responsible for the development don't seem to be doing anything about it. Perhaps you could investigate this? I have sent you some photos.

Hmm. This could be a story for ECR TV. Where's Mr Ceaucescu (no relation) when you need him?

First Cuckoo?

As well as witnessing the conception of a new avian species on this morning's walk, I was also privileged to spy my first Lesser Spotted Fly Tippers of the year.

The frantic redevelopment and building work currently taking place in the Millionaires' Playground makes an ideal habitat for this shy, chubby creature, so it's no surprise to see them flocking back in significant numbers now that winter is behind us.

The pair I spotted were jauntily adorned in their bright summer plumage of green, hi-viz vests and red hard hats. As they settled down round the back of the Granville after an exhausting migration in their J Reg Transit pick-up, I ducked behind a knackered camper van and pulled out the old binocs.

Before long they were busy building their nest, tossing materials they had gathered on their flight over the boundary fence. I nipped back later with my camera, and although the Fly Tippers had by then gone off to forage for bacon sarnies, I did manage to get a snap of their nest for my old showbiz chum Bill Oddie:

Birds Of A Feather?

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

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

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

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

How they are related

Councillor's Bollards Hacked Off

Holy hacksaws! It's only been a few weeks since our local caff demolishing, car crushing, graffiti removing councillor Dave Green built these step-outs along Victoria Parade and adorned them with snazzy bollards. Now some blighter has come along a hacked a couple of them off.

I'll have to be more careful next time I give my old throbber a thrashing along here. The lights ain't great, and there's already more obstacles to avoid than the Mini Marathon round of It's A Knockout. Without Councillor Green's reflective bollards, I might well end up going base over apex.

Last year one of those Pugin lions not far from here was hacked off. Now these bollards. Could it be that there's an East Cliff Chopper on the loose?

Now You See It, Now You Don't

Last week:


This week:


Plus all new, turret-mounted, M61 Vulcan 20mm rapid firing machine gun with infrared night vision (in case anyone feels like getting lucky with a spray can):

Now You See It, Now You See It Again

Flicking through the Thanet Times that Mr Ceaucescu (no relation) left on the coffee table yesterday, I thought I was going to have to take the old glass eye in for a service.

Here's page 11:


And here's page 12:


I know there's not much happening on the Ile at the moment, but really!

Ramsgate - A Pain In The Arts

Mr Ceaucescu (no relation) has been out and about again with his new best friend from Margate, arts commentator Philip Page (aka Arts and Elbows).

This time they've made a short film for ECR TV about the state of the arts in Ramsgate, and pretty bleak it looks too.

I don't know. You hire a Romanian, you expect the Cheeky Girls! Not this arty twaddle!

The Wrong Arm Of The Law

The doorbell rang this afternoon and who should it be but one of Her Majesty's Testicle Jugglers!

'Are you Ricky?'

Well, I suppose in a manner of speaking I am, although I haven't been called that since I was eleven. So in order to obtain clarification I replied:

'Ricky who?'

At this point the rozzer gave me a thoroughly suspicious look. Admittedly his suspicion may have been aroused by the fact that I was ever so slightly dishevelled, having just woken up from my afternoon nap.

However, when a peeler looks at you like that, I find it immediately prompts one to riffle through one's mental diary desperately searching for any misdemeanours in the past ten years, drunken or otherwise, which might have attracted the attention of the local constabulary. Having drawn nothing but blank sheets, and dismissing out of hand the notion that the uniformed dullard standing in front of me may have apprehended the moron who detached the bumper from the TT while I was away last week, and had bowled over to convey the glad tidings, I decided the best plan of action was to return the compliment.

After a silent stand off that lasted a good ten seconds, he cracked.

'This your flat?'

Flat? Flat?

'No. This is my house. All of it. I own the lot.'

At that point his suspicious look turned to an expression of confusion mixed with greed and envy, and with a curt apology, and mumbling something about having the wrong address, he plodded back down the garden path.

Avast Behind Me Hearties!

Cripes! I see our 12 star Royal Harbour Hotel is now offering cruises to Ramsgate from London aboard a luxury speed boat.

With a top whack of 30 knots, you'll be whisked from St Katherine's Dock to the Millionaires' Playground in five hours, taking in all the sites along the way including the WW2 forts off Whitstable, the fart farm off Birchington and the seal colony off Margate.

After a night at the hotel, you'll be chauffeur driven back to London. All this can be yours for £1040 for two people, £1460 for four, or £1830 for six.

A snip, really, and I'm sure Elton and I will be taking full advantage of the service once the summer's here!

Bog Rolls

Our glorious council leader Sandy Beach wants us to become a 'cafe culture' here on Kent's Ramsgate Peninsula, which is presumably why the public dunnies opposite the Waitrose car park have been converted into a sandwich bar.

I popped in earlier and had a nice chat with the new Italian owner, who's relocated from Canterbury to the Millionaires' Playground. He seemed rather tired of people commenting that his establishment used to be a khazi, and making all those awful jokes about 'bog standard food', 'cottage cheese', 'floaters', 'pain au chocolate' and serving sandwiches 'at your convenience'. I, of course, would never sink to such depths.

I had a jolly good Fairtrade latte for £1.40. The place is called, er, Fillers. Not far from Pooland, the former snooker hall. Oh gawd luvvaduck.

Man Eating Sausage In Wenceslas Square Speaks

Three cheers for Tony 'Bignews Margate' Flaig for his constant nibbling away at the edges of council waste. No, I'm not talking about his eating habits, peculiar as they may be.

Tony's been 'flaiging up' (geddit!?!?!) the shortcomings of Thanet Council, and regeneration efforts in Margate, for almost a year now. Recently he's been bashing down the doors of bureaucracy over the Theatre Royal and flights to Nowhere Virginia debacles. More power to your elbow, Tone.

Crikey! That's six cheers in one day! I must be in a congratulatory kind of a mood. Makes a change from my usual self-congratulatory mood, I suppose. Although it could be an attack of sentimentality brought on by copious quantities of gin.

PS: If any of my hoards of new readers are wondering why Tony is linked in my sidebar as Man Eating Sausage In Wenceslas Square Speaks, it's because the first profile photo he put on his blog was of himself, eating a sausage, in Wenceslas Square. And because he speaks into his computer rather than use a keypad like us mere mortals.

Writing On The Wall For Graffiti

Three cheers for our local caff demolishing, car crushing, graffiti removing councillor Dave Green! Following a long campaign, he's finally persuaded the Uranians to remove the eye-watering graffiti from the splendid edifice above, here on Thanet's millionaire row, otherwise known as the East Cliff Ramsgate.

Not only that, but CCTV is to be installed to prevent the daubists from returning to the scene of the crime. Proof that not all our Dad's Army councillors are content to sit back in their bath chairs and drool into their Horlicks.

It Came From Uranus! - The Movie

Mr Ceaucescu (no relation) has put together a short package for ECR TV demonstrating Bertie's reaction to the severed head sent to me by The Uranians (see previous post).

With an animal as ferocious as this guarding my cliff top mansion there'll be no worries about getting off to the kipper tonight, snug as a bug in a proverbial under my John Lewis luxury Hungarian goose down duvet.

It Came From Uranus!

Yikes! I was using the downstairs facilities here at the old cliff top mansion this morning, when there was an awful commotion at the catflap. When I investigated I discovered Bertie, my pedigree Burmese, proudly parading this object in his jaws!

I've taken it as a sign. The Uranians are trying to tell me something. A mysterious message on the reverse of the tag says: Warning - possible choking hazard. 'Nuf said.

Rivers Of Latte

Isle of Thanet Gazunder Leader Comment

Rich people from up there in London are beginning to talk about the isle as 'the new Monaco' or 'the new Marbella', following high profile features on national TV and in national newspapers.

Many are packing their YSL suiters, jumping in their Bentleys, and making their homes in Ramsgate and Broadstairs (what about Margate? - Ed.)

But how long will they stay, once they really get to know the island? Where will they get a decent latte? Where will they send little Nathaniel and Saskia to school? Where will they get their Porsche Cayennes serviced?

There is still a long way to go before Thanet becomes Crouch End on Sea. But if our leaders and business people fail to rise to the challenge, we may, before too long, witness the sorry sight of burnt out Ferraris at Westwood Cross, and rioting ABC1s torching the local chippy.

New York, London, Paris, Munich, Everybody's Talking 'Bout...

Um, Ramsgate. Or so it seems.

Here's the story. Last night I'm at a chum's wine bar in Bloomsbury, when this billionaire City type at the next table starts telling his pals in a very loud voice how he's relocating to Ramsgate. Part of his plan appeared to be to buy up RAF London Kent Ramsgate Manston International Airport so that he didn't have those ancient jumbos coming in to land ten feet above his bonce, and turn it into a housing estate cum wind farm. Apart from retaining a small helicopter landing pad so he could commute to the City in 30 minutes. I kid you not.

Then tonight I'm slumming it in the World's End in Chelsea, when a couple of rather camp TV director types at the table opposite start going on about how they're planning to buy a place in Ramsgate if their new Channel 4 series comes off.

Now I know I'm a bit of a trend setter, but this is getting ridiculous. The next thing you know, I'll be earwigging London conversations about how people are buying properties in Margate. No, no that's too silly for words.

Grow Your Own Turnip Centre

Holy Sewells! It's all gone a bit arty-farty on the isle of blogs today!

Cliftonville Chronicle devotes 17 pages to the unsurprising news that T S Eliot found inspiration for The Wasteland by sitting on a bench in Margate for a couple of months.

And Turneround Margate has a glowing paeon of praise to that chap from the circus who's been entrusted with designing the Anthea Turner Centre. The great man is quoted as saying:

“I think that the point of being an architect is to help raise the experience of everyday living, even a little… None of this means designing funny shapes or getting politicians to go ‘wow’ or making the media think you’re the new thing. It takes a lot of patience, a lot of experience, and a lot of unfashionable thought”.

Right. So let me get this straight. We're spending £17.4m (plus £8m wasted on the previous effort) on a building that will have the 'wow' factor deliberately designed out of it, that will be unfashionable, and will not be regarded by the media as anything new. And that's going to attract lots of people down from London to marvel at it, is it?

So being the da Vinci style genius I am, I thought I'd rustle up my own design (above) which definitely does have the 'wow' factor, and is certainly at the cutting edge of 'fashionable' and 'new'. I've never seen anything like it, that's for sure. Bentleys all round!

PS: Please don't let on that I designed my Turnip Centre in three minutes using that free Google SketchUp thingo, otherwise my £2m fee might be jeopardised. Thank you.

The Ugly Truth

Hats off to Half Skips of Thanet for putting the truth back into advertising.

Their slogan: Ugly but reliable drivers reminds me of the notice that Mr Ceaucescu (no relation) has blu-tacked to the wall of his ensuite edit suite: You have to be mad to work here, but it doesn't help.

Media Battle

Flaming Murdochs! No sooner have I launched ECR TV than those Dirty Desmonds over in Margate come up with a copycat channel.

Of course this means a circulation war, so with immediate effect I am dropping the cover price of ECR TV to 5p per issue. Nope, forget that, let's make it a free sheet!

Pointless Exercise

Even Sir Terry Wigon couldn't, it seems, believe his own earpiece as he incorrectly announced the winner of last night's competition to find the UK's entry for this year's Eurovision Song Contest in Helsinki.

The play-off was between a French woman (why?) singing a highly derivative ballad, and four hyperactive loons dressed as airline staff who had set the pre-flight safety announcement to the kind of music that would have had even Bros fans wincing. Needless to say the loons, who glory in the name of Scooch (presumably some obscure disease of ruminants), were the actual winners.

Once again, I fear, the Great British Public have squeezed the pimple of success only to find that they will, alas, be reaping the pus of failure.