The Edge Mag - April 2015

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EDGE

the ISSUE NO: 222

www.theedgemag.co.uk

168 Moulsham Street, Chelmsford

You know where you get it best!

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Telephone 01245 348256

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APRIL 2015

shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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Whoops-a-Daisy

Army & Navy Flyover

This photograph probably seems ancient by now, but it’s the first time this mag has had the opportunity to comment, and it was just one of those moments where you couldn’t believe your eyes, wasn’t it?

But like she said on the Jonathan Woss show wecently, “Did you see me fall down?” and all the audience mumbled, “Yes, Madge, we all saw you go flying backwards arse over tit.” Only then she jumps up onto Wossy’s table, giving him a cracking view of her ageing ass cheeks, before imploring (a bit like Spartacus might have), “And did you see me get back up again?” arms held triumphantly aloft, whilst the studio audience roared their approval.

To be fair to Ms Ciccone, she is undoubtedly the best-selling female recording artist of all time, and we really can’t argue with that amazing feat, no matter how much we all might wish she’d just put a sock in it (and some clothes on) at times.

The Edge isn’t a huge fan, but it did like ‘Live To Tell’ (1986) and is most surprised to be giving a huge thumbs-up to ‘Ghosttown’ from her latest album Rebel Heart, which has a truly stunning cover.

But it was good, in a sick sort of way, when she got yanked backwards down those harsh red steps, simply because....well, it was Madge.

This is what we want and no messing either.

We want an underpass for the traffic approaching from both Princes Road and Chelmer Village, so that in effect it would form the old A12 going straight through Chelmsford and onwards/outwards to both Brentwood and Colchester.

Then the two-lane flyover traffic could be as it is now, only with a brand new flyover befitting one of England’s newest city’s, from Parkway out to the A130 and Baddow, Danbury, Maldon, Wickford, Southend and beyond.

Then, at ground level, hopefully the hideous congestion would be eased down Baddow Road and going both into and out of our city centre, particularly during rush-hour.

Job done.

Oh sure, The Edge appreciates it would cost £millions, but then that isn’t The Edge’s concern. The Edge is simply here to come up with the ideas whilst it’s down to those people who wear ill-fitting, characterless grey suits (where their arse has worn shiny with endless sitting about) yet who’re surprisingly good at number-crunching and sorting out the nittygritty....so long as they leave all of the glory to The Edge.

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WOODLEY’S PIZZA Great Waltham Village Hall Car-Park FRIDAY 17TH APRIL 5:00pm - 9:00pm Also available for private parties The Edge’s thanks go to Paddy Hepburn of North Springfield for sending in this photograph of his missus, Audrey, whilst she was checking on the fishfingers under the grill in their rented two­up/two­down (and as you can clearly see, readers, their place is so beau jus that their toilet is pushed underneath the work surface and has a ‘newspaper lid’ around the top for extra squatting comfort). ’Course, life won’t always be like this for young Audrey, as from hum­ ble origins true flowers often blossom. Meanwhile, back on the fishfinger­front, it has come to The Edge’s attention that some restaurants are making them with batter. No, no, no, no, no....it’s breadcrumbs every time.

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CHICKEN IN A BASKET When’s chicken in a basket going to get back in vogue? The same can be said for Black Forest gateaux as well.

SEVENTIES PERM I noticed a bloke stood outside the New Moon pub on Bishopsgate with a seventies style perm when I was in London the other Friday. Epic, he looked, in a total tosserish sort of way.

TOTAL STRANGER

The Edge Editor’s Column

Did you know that it takes each and every one of us a tenth of a second to decide what sort of person a total stranger is when we first meet them? In an instant, our brains process the information of what it sees and judgement is made outside of our conscious control.

FEEDING THE DUCKS

NO STRINGS

Soggy bread is no good for ’em, you know.

In fact, if you bother to go to Cake On The Lake in Admirals Park, you can have a nice brew and a slice of homemade cake and buy some proper food to feed the ducks with afterwards.

Mums & Dads need to give their offspring peas and lettuce and grapes and healthy stuff, instead of chucking a whole load of manky stale bread at the poor ickle ducks and swans.

“Bread’s pretty much just junk food,” says one charity dedicated to the wellbeing of ducks. “Oats, barley, rice and vegetable trimmings are what’s required.”

I can’t wait for Thurderbirds to start this month.

And when I say I can’t wait, I really do mean that I cannot bloody wait.

LINEKER IN KA I honestly thought I saw Gary Lineker driving a silver Ford Ka around a roundabout at the Springfield/Boreham interchange the other Thursday afternoon, but it couldn’t have been him, could it?

Unless it was all part of his disguise.

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THE VOICE If Burnley do get relegated from the Premiership, I for one will not miss having to listen to Sean Dyche’s voice in post-match interviews.

BAD FITTING BRAS Between 70%-80% of women wear the incorrect sized bra with which to support their pups.

“Wearing the wrong sized bra not only looks bad, but it also puts the wearer at risk of various health problems,” reckons a leading physiotherapist.

“Breasts are suspended by ligaments that will stretch from bouncing if they are not held firmly in position.”

Indeed, the Chartered Society of Physiotherapy have produced a BCG (breast care guide) that includes details on how to check bra sizes cor-

rectly, as well as stressing the importance of wearing a sports bra while exercising.

This is something that The Edge really wants to get to grips with and as such, I will personally be measuring up all of the housewives at the fitness classes I attend, starting with immediate effect.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS Travelling up to London on the train the other gloriously sunny Friday, I couldn’t help wondering about the first impressions people visiting Chelmsford for the very first time must have when approaching from the opposite direction.

Surely they must first notice Hylands golf course and the greenery of the football pitches out of the opposite window. Then there’s Admirals Park and Central Park as the train slows down, coupled with all of the new development that’s going on right now. And when they exit the train on platform two they also get a prime view right inside people’s living-rooms in that newish block of flats built just the other side of Viaduct Road. Marvellous.

SERIAL POOPER Chelmsford Police are on the look out for a serial pooper who has been defacating onto parked cars. Within the past 12 months they have received 20 reports of faeces appearing on the bonnets and handles of motor vehicles. One exasperated victim even set up surveillance and managed to catch the perpetrator in the act - video evidence which the cops now hold.

Please God ‘LIKE’ The Edge. Go on... facebook.com/theedgemagazine twitter.com/TheEdgeMag DO IT NOW! For Christ’s sake, LIKE The Edge, cos no bugger else does.

facecock THE EDGE Chelmsford CM2 6XD 0 77 646 797 44 shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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Cortaflex

Mini Dachshund releases cookery video

OK readers, are any of you familiar with Cortaflex?

Your editor’s shoulders - one in particular, which probably needs to be operated on - are pretty much buggered, so it’s all about managing them as best I can.

So this ’ere Cortaflex has come to my attention, which I believe was first used on horses with some remarkable results, so then (apparently) their jockeys started taking it.

To be fair though, I’m not that much into being a guinea pig, so I’d like to take this opportunity to put Cortaflex out there and ask if any of you good readers have had any experience of it and, in short, do you reckon it works?

I take just three supplements per day (as well as a hayfever tablet) and you’d have to ask my wife what they are, but that’s it. I hate taking aspirin and am fortunate enough to hardly ever get headaches and I also don’t get that many colds. So what I’m basically saying is, my body is a temple, so I’d far rather you lot experiment with these horse tranquilisers before I do.

Giddy-up, readers.

The owners of a mini dachshund, which is a right stupid-looking, pointless little dog that waddles way too close to Terra Firma, have started dressing it up in chef’s outfits and making mini cookery videos and posting them on-line. Just how frickin’ sad and desperate can you get?

Cute?

Cute The Edge’s ass. Sick more like.

The five-year-old pet has so far been filmed (apparently) rustling up a pizza, steak and even slow cooked lamb. And now - breaking news there’s a brand new vid of the sausage dog creating a bruschetta.

The dog’s owners, Ryan and Lauren Walkies of Broomfield, describe their pooch as “a natural” in front of the camera. (A natural at laying dog eggs on the pavement and in the park, more like.)

Trouble is, people are gullible, aren’t they, and the ’orrible ’ound already 100,000 followers on its 35(77<has 08&+ :$67(' 7:2 :+2/( '$<6 75$9(//,1* $6 :( &28/'1>7 *(7 $1< ',5(&7 )/,*+76 62 Facecock page and its very own four-legged, : bad-breathed website.

“He’s very well behaved where his food is concerned,” says owner Ryan. “He won’t gobble it up until he’s finished preparing it and it’s been properly served, silver service style.”

“We couldn’t ask for a better dog,” says Lauren.

“He’s like a son to us.”

Ugh. Pause the mag while it gags. www.celebritydachshund.com

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“AAAANNNNDDDD STRUT!” Price comparison website Moneysupermarket.com must have commissioned the best advertising agency in the country, because the ads they are producing these days are absolutely epic.

Strut has got to be one of the greatest advertisements of all time because these days it’s so very difficult to make a genuine impact because we naturally assume we’ve seen it all (everything) before. Only when this balding fella in a bad suit jacket, heels, attitude and skimpy jean cut-offs came along, it was honestly enough to make me whoop on my settee in delight.

Ads like this fill me with pride because, like our comedy, it’s what we Brits do best.

The inspiration behind this commercial was, apparently, Beyonce’s butt.

What’s more, the guy in the advert is just your average chap in the street, whereas the guy behind this amazing commercial, Fredrik Bond, reveals: “We did castings ’til our faces and asses turned blue. But the guy who eventually landed the role (Michael Van Schoick, see above and below) was an absolute natural. He pretty much stepped into the room at the casting studio and we all instantly knew he was the one pretty much there and then. But what was so exciting about him was that he had never done a commercial in his life before - he was a pure virgin in that respect and he gave us 100% at both rehearsals and on the set.”

Asked how such a dramatic strut was achieved, Bond says: “Both Michael and our choreographer, Ju-Ju Walters, worked tirelessly to achieve just the right vibe for the advert, only please don’t ask me if that’s his real (plump) rump, because I’m not even going to go there.”

So The Edge asked Michael instead and he revealed: “As it happens, I do have a naturally Kardashianesque backside, although I have to admit it was jiggified to the purposes of the ad.”

Because The Edge so loves this advert, it naturally thought everyone else would appreciate it as well. But no, it appears that passions and opinions are divided. Here are just a few comments, both for and against.

“This ad makes me feel physically sick. In fact, it’s in my ‘Worst Ever Top Ten’. I also don’t think school kids should be exposed to it. It shouldn’t appear on the tele until after 9:00pm at night.”

“I think this advert is wonderful. Not too long ago I put on the vest and running tights of one of my co-workers (she’s a lady and I’m a guy) down the gym to raise awareness of a fundraiser we were doing and I totally get where this advert is coming from.”

“Seriously, this advert is total bullshit. Why is it set in NYC? And WTF has it got to do with MS’s services? I simply don’t want a financial ‘go to’ information portal to be portrayed in this way.”

“It’s an advert, at the end of the day, and makes most well adjusted people chuckle. How the guy struts in those killer heels is just amazing and it really makes me smile.”

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CITIZEN BUDAPEST

Over the course of 2014 Citizen wrote a series of reviews of four of its favourite European cities that was inspired by the recommendation of these metropolitan destinations - Paris, Rome, Berlin and Barcelona in the Sunday Times as

ideal city break destinations.

The first three are capitals of their respective countries whilst the latter is a possible capital-in-waiting if the Catalan separatists in Spain ever get their way.

This list was, however, in no way definitive. There are, in Citizens view, many delightful cities - many of them capitals, but not all - in Europe that are equally fascinating to spend a few days in, particularly, perhaps, in those countries that, for people of Citizens generation, were amorphously grouped together prior to the fall of the Berlin Wall as being ‘behind the iron curtain’ and therefore ‘off limits’. But with the consequential collapse of communism in the east of the continent in the late 1980’s, the doors of tourism were opened.

Prague and Kraków are well documented - and rightly so. Citizen loved both, particularly whilst watching the world simply go by over a beer and two in their city squares.

Others such as Warsaw, Bratislava and Tallinn all seem to come highly recommended but, perhaps, one of the most consistently lauded destinations that seems to make most top ten city lists is Budapest.

So last autumn, Citizen put it to the test, and believe me, we were not disappointed.

It was actually at primary school that Citizen met its first Hungarian - albeit in somewhat sad circumstances when, as a result of the Hungarian uprising in 1956, a Hungarian girl from a family of refugees joined our school and she soon fitted in really well.

The uprising, quickly suppressed by intervention from the Soviet authorities, meant that Hungary, which was liberated by the Russians in 1945 and a year later became a soviet satellite Republic (with the Communists in full control by 1947) had to wait a further 34 years before democracy returned with free elections in 1990.

Since then Budapest has thrived and has a very much 21st Century air about it while, at the same time, preserving its architectural, archaeological and cultural heritage.

Known as ‘The Pearl of the Danube’ it is made up of three distinct towns as opposed to two, as most people assume. Buda, the medieval city on Castle Hill, along with the lesser known Obuda, are on the west bank of the river, immortalised by Johann Strauss II - who seemed to think it was both blue as well as beautiful.

Meanwhile Pest, the administrative and commercial city, is on the east bank. In 1873 the three towns merged to become Budapest. Quite what the good citizens of Obuda thought about their home towns name disappearing isn’t clear - it must have been a bit like South Woodham Ferrers being subsumed into Chelmsford and losing its identity....so not altogether a bad idea, you might think!

Today large areas of Budapest are listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site and if visiting for only a few days, much of this is probably best seen by using the ubiquitous red (open top) bus tour that flits across the river over a couple of its many attractive bridges. At 14,000 HUF (Hungarian Forint) for two people, that may sound expensive, but it’s actually only £33.60 Similarly the excellent Hungarian Metro is great value at 3,000 HUF (£7.20) for 10 journeys with the tickets also accepted on the buses and main line trains.

What’s more, you also get a seat as well as a great value ticket.

The trains run from the airport into the city, but unfortunately the station is at Budapest Ferihegy 1 Terminal which is no longer used as all flights, including Ryanair’s service from Stansted, arrive at the Ferihegy 2 Terminal. But it’s just a simple bus journey from one to the other - or rather ‘two’ to the other!

Citizen stayed on the Pest side of the city which is where the majority of the shops and restaurants are, as well as the awesome parliament building nearby, to which is the moving but controversial Holocaust Memorial (partly funded by the Hungarian-American actor Tony Curtis - Roger Moore’s sidekick in ‘The Persuaders’). Also nearby is the American Embassy heavily fortified, as is a sign of the times for all US Embassies - and in the park alongside it is a statue of President Ronald Reagan in gratitude for his part in the collapse of communism. Quite why Mrs. Thatcher isn’t there alongside him Citizen isn’t sure.

The city is deceptively easy to walk around - I say deceptive because the topography of the place only became clear on our very last day.

On day one, having left the tour bus near the indoor market in search of a nearby recommended Argentinian steakhouse, we discovered on our last day that it was but a short walk from Deák Ferenc - the main city centre square.

Also on the Pest side is the large and impressive Heroes’ Square, at the end of the beautiful avenue Andrassy, which the bus tour also goes to.

However, not everything about Andrassy is beautiful as at number 60 is the House of Terror - now a museum which contains exhibits related to the fascist and communist dictatorships which is also a memorial to the victims of these regimes, including those detained, interrogated, tortured or killed in the building. It opened in February 2002 and at 4,000 HUF for two (just over £9.50) it is well worth seeing, if only as a reminder of man’s inhumanity to fellow man.

There is a room near the end of the tour, which you can do at your own pace, that shows photo’s of known Hungarian collaborators with their names and years of birth and death. Some, it seems, are still alive, yet named nonetheless.

Finally Citizen mentioned restaurants. We stayed at the Hilton Budapest City (the more modern of the two Hiltons in the city on the Pest side). It was an easy walk from the station, either along a pleasant avenue or through an adjoining modern shopping mall (containing lots of international household names). The hotel even had an entrance in the shopping centre and, as an added bonus, gave us a home produced city restaurant guide, which was very kind of them, considering they have two restaurants of their own.

But yes, we did eat Hungarian - because you simply have to sample local cuisine wherever you are, don’t you? However, Citizen is of the view that food is truly international, so when visiting any new city, why not simply eat wherever you like.

The aforementioned Argentinian steakhouse, called Pampas, was fantastic - as was the delightful Iquana Mexican Bar & Grill near the Parliament buildings which ranks alongside Café Pacifico off London’s Covent Garden as the best Mexican food Citizen has tasted outside of Mexico itself.

The Italiano Ristorante, near St Stephen’s Basilica, was also superb, as was the Italian and Hungarian Le Botte Ristorante in Vaci Street - the road referred to earlier leading to the market from Deák Ferenc - the central square where there was a slightly disappointing Hard Rock Café.

Overall, Citizen would have to agree with the compilers of all those great city books in so far as Budapest really is right up there with the very best of them.

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THE HAIRY MONSTER WALMART My friend Gill has discovered a diet that involves no change to her eating habits. Whenever she feels as though she’s put a few pounds on, she simply flies to America and stands in a queue at the nearest Walmart store.

Hey Presto, she suddenly both looks and feels slim again.

CRISIS When I was growing up in a very poor part of Gloucester in the fifties my mother would often tell me that there was always someone worse off than us and that it was better to give than to receive. I've tried to live by that mantra and it led me to volunteering to drive for Crisis, the homeless charity, over the Christmas period. It proved to be a truly humbling experience.

I arrived at The Hub, in Bermondsey, on Christmas Day afternoon. The Hub is a massive warehouse which supplies everything that is needed at the six day centres and seven night shelters for their four thousand guests who sleep rough for 51 weeks of the year. My role, as one of 350 drivers, was to deliver supplies each night to the centres and to move some of the 10,000 volunteers between locations. It was a massive operation, providing meals, shelter, health and dental care, entertainment and everything else to make the guests feel welcome. In all, I spent six nights driving around London, met some truly wonderful and inspiring people, both guests and volunteers, and came away with a determination to help Crisis in their bid to eradicate homelessness completely. So if any of you readers are interested in volunteering for Christmas 2015, I'd be only too happy to guide you and I guarantee you will enjoy every minute of it.

BONDING WITH CUSTOMERS In an effort to bond with its customers, my bank asked me how I would like to be addressed whenever we spoke over the telephone. Would I like to be called Hairy, Mr Monster, sir, etc? So these days I really love listening to call centre staff stumbling over whether they should really be calling me Bollock Brain.

ITALIAN ROAD TRIP - PART 2 Continued from last month... Having been woken at dawn's crack by stormtroopers firing indiscriminately into a forest in the hope of hitting wild boar, we emerged from our beds in the German equivalent of the Bates Motel for the second time at the more civilised hour of 7.30am. The German breakfast is quite varied and we were spoilt for choice - dry brown rolls, dry granary rolls, dry seeded bread, or toast. The sliced raw meats looked totally unappetising, so we opted for slices of processed cheese and crackers.

The waitress, a lady who looked very much like the Governess on ITV's ‘The Chase’, brought us coffee and then hovered over us as if she was waiting for us to breach etiquette so she could beat us to death with her massive bosom. She was clearly suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder as, every time we raised our cups to our lips, she would replace the saucer with a new one. Similarly, as soon as a crumb settled onto a plate, it would be replaced with fresh crockery. When Mark asked her if there was any cereal or fruit, she replied that fruit was only available after evening meals. I have never been so keen to leave a hotel in all my life.

The drive through Switzerland's mountains was spectacular; the 11 mile long St Gothard tunnel is an amazing feat of engineering, while the roads are perfectly maintained. The only negative aspect is its native population, which are humourless and unwelcoming. Unfortunately, we had omitted to buy and display a vignette (an annual road tax sticker) and were pulled over

by Swiss customs officers (six of the feckers) as we were about to leave their country. You'd have thought we'd stolen back their Nazi art treasures, the fuss they made over a £25 tax disc. Our passports were seized and it was two hours before we were released after signing statements admitting we had attempted to defraud the Swiss government and paying a £350 fine for our heinous crime.

Already day two was not looking good...

THREE FAVOURITE QUOTES My three favourite quotes are: (1) I'm a very fair person; I try to treat everyone with equal contempt (2) I never apologise. I'm sorry, but that's just the way I am (3) Trying is the first step on the road to failure.

BOMB DISPOSAL UNIT My mate said he'd set the timer on my microwave. Turns out he used to be in the Army's bomb disposal unit. He made a right old mess of my kitchen.

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restaurant & lounge

Middle Aged Terror Worried Cat This is Sam, the worried looking cat that has (apparently) become an ‘internet sensation’.

But before you go all gooey with your ‘poor puddy-wuddy-wuddy’ comments, let The Edge state here and now that it bloody well HATES CATS because they always:1. Shit in its garden 2. Belong to someone else (so it’s technically someone else’s job to clean it up, not mine).

3. Kill birds which we feed (there were dove feathers all over our garden the other week, although granted doves do seem like pretty stupid birds at the best of times).

4. They’re hard to catch (are cats).

5. They don’t taste anything special (don’t cats) when caught.

So be warned, neighbours.

www.theedgemag.co.uk

the new london

Look, the producer in question probably deserved to be punched by JC for some quip he probably made about his balding pate, or his big fat belly. But at the end of the day, he’s hardly Vladimir Putin, is he? No, JC is not. He’s just a big fat oaf in a car, so for Christ’s sake, leave him be.

Sure, Top Gear would undoubtedly survive without him. There are any number of people who could step into the breach. Julia Bradbury for one. (Oh yes she could. She loves her motors, does our Julia, and she’d be good at it. Or Chris Evans.)

But if they sack Clarkson (he hasn’t been at time of going to print) - and one day he’ll probably drive them to it - think about it, it’ll be yet another victory for namby-pambyness.

Clarkson may be a dinosaur, but we should cherish him all the more for being so, not vilify him.

No, of course The Edge doesn’t agree with all that he says or does.

Just 95% of it.

VOTE CLARKSON.

music nights enjoy our mid week set menu whilst being entertained 2 courses from £18.50 1st Thursday of each month 147 new london road, chelmsford, cm2 0aa 01245 266288 www.thenewlondon.co.uk info@thenewlondon.co.uk

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The brothers behind Chop Bloc Steve & David Patten

IT’S A MASTERPIECE

This is far more than just a common or garden beef burger

I’ve been to Chop Bloc twice already since it’s official opening evening, as reported in last months Edge, and I honestly cannot wait to go back again, reports The Edge Editor.

The first time was on a bit of a boy’s night out to sample their right manly Beef Dip (Ribeye, Monterey Jack, mushrooms, horseradish mayo, baguette, au jus - you simply dip the shaved beef baguette into the jus and oh my god, it’s so simple, yet so mouth-wateringly divine), all washed down with a glass or two of draught Sierra Nevada (5%) plus a bottle of their incredibly good value Legato Nero d’Avola (Italian red - £17.50). This we enjoyed in their sumptuous, opulent, Manhattan-style cocktail bar up on the second floor, and as you can see by these photographs, Chelmsford has landed squarely on its feet in attracting Chop Bloc to Grays Brewery Yard.

My second visit was when I took the wife to share a 600g Josper grilled Chateaubriand (£10 per 100g) with the best sweet potato wedges and truffle fries as sides that I have ever tasted in my life. Our medium-rare steak simply melted in our mouths, whilst its crispy barbecue edges made for a gorgeous twist. That evening we also shared a couple of pre-dinner mojitos and a bottle of Graham Beck Game Reserve Sauvignon (£26.00).

What makes Chop Bloc so exceptionally good?

It’s simple; it’s got the full package. Great food served in quite heavenly surroundings with a truly lovely ambiance.

What these two young brothers don’t know about their trade probably isn’t worth knowing as they are both fonts of knowledge.

For instance, David says: “Our chateaubriand is from grass fed Hereford cattle reared in Lancashire, dry hung for 9 days before being butchered and delivered to Chop Bloc where it continues to mature for a further 28 days. It is then cooked over charcoal (Josper style) and sliced to share in a cast iron staub dish.”

Steve chips in: “In our Chop Bloc bar, Martinis are stirred, Edge Editor gets DP shuffling his not shaken, right the way fingers due to the probing nature of his down to -7c as this genuinely questioning technique! does offer optimum flavour (The Edge even witnessed the temperature gauge going into the glasses).

Such attention to detail honestly does make a difference to the taste, and it is most definitely all about the taste when you visit Chop Bloc.”

You simply have to check it out, readers; you’d be virtually crazy not to.

Chop Bloc simply exudes understated glamour. Everything just fits, from the original warehouse meathooks that dangle from the exposed beams in the ceiling, to the stately leather bar-stools, soft lighting, paired back colours, wooden floors, rugged steel lift shaft and exposed brickwork.

Chop Bloc is an architectural triumph as well as a gourmet’s delight.

Even their burgers are far more than just burgers. Each one is made inhouse using 28-day matured chuck steak and cooked using the traditional 1940s American ‘smash’ technique to create a crust on the outside, whilst leaving a supremely juicy burger on the inside. Choose from doublecheese (£8), triple-cheese (£10.50), or the signature Chop Bloc cheese burger (£12), also available with chicken and veggie options.

Meanwhile Sundays are all about good old fashioned roast lunches and dinners, serving dry aged sirloin or stuffed chicken with Yorkshire pudding and all the trimmings (inc. duck fat potatoes, parsnips, carrots, green beans, garlic and gravy). Slow roasted (at 50c for 12 hours) Sunday lunches/dinners are just £16 per person with children’s options also available.

8-9 Grays Brewery Yard, Chelmsford, CM2 6QR www.chopbloc.com Bookings: 01245 860 070

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Have you got your DHL?

No, it’s nothing to do with international or UK parcel delivery, readers. It’s your DHL (dormouse handling license). Because you have to have one to handle them, you know. You do, because Matt Baker of The One Show says you do, so it must be true, as he’s clearly never told a lie in his life.

There are apparently not one, but two types of license. Firstly, the common-orgarden DHL (and you naturally have to sit a course to get one of these and have ‘good handling experience’). The second type of license must be obtained if you like to dig holes - and bloody big holes at that - and concerns any work on a site that would likely disturb dormice. Because honestly, readers, they do appear to like their sleep, do dormice. In fact, your editor has never even seen a picture of one with its eyes open.

The thing is, the dormouse is an EPS (European protected species).

Meanwhile, in Ipswich, a meadow that is home to a large population of toads, is about to be put up for sale for housing.

Which is discrimination, is that. Because there’s one rule for dormice, and completely another for not-too-cute toads.

www.theedgemag.co.uk

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If you are in the market to move home, then make sure you are OnTheMarket.com says Scott Mason of The Home Partnership in Duke Street, Chelmsford.

On 26 January 2015, a major new UK property portal called OnTheMarket.com went live. It has been created to compete head-on with both Rightmove and Zoopla.

The Home Partnership pride themselves on being progressive in their approach and are delighted to have joined thousands of other prominent national, regional and local independent estate and letting agents in supporting the most important new venture of its type in many years.

Scott says: “We have reviewed our overall digital strategy and firmly believe that OnTheMarket.com will rapidly become a major player in the market and a ‘must view’ destination for serious propertyseekers.”

At the beginning of February, OnTheMarket.com launched with a multi-million pound marketing budget which includes sustained and heavyweight national TV advertising on the main terrestrial and digital channels. In addition, it is running a high-profile press campaign in titles such as the Daily Telegraph, Times, Sunday Times, Daily Mail, Scotsman, Glasgow Herald and Western Mail, as well as in magazines such as Country Life, The London Magazine and Fabric. There is also a very heavy digital display and pay-per-click campaign.

The central OnTheMarket.com campaigns complement the local promotional activity by thousands of estate and letting agents across the country who are heavily and enthusiastically supporting the new portal.

More and more agents are moving all their properties to OnTheMarket.com from other websites.

No longer can Rightmove or Zoopla claim their property listings cover the entire market because many estate and letting agents have left them to join OnTheMarket.com as the best platform to display their properties in the clearest and simplest way.

Scott continues: “As it is a mutual organisation, OnTheMarket.com has no external shareholders.

Therefore it is able to plough profits back into improving the property-searching experience and into efficiently connecting motivated buyers, sellers, tenants and landlords. So, since Monday 26 January 2015, we have been proudly displaying all our instructed properties at OnTheMarket.com.”

Scott Mason MNAEA

Director

er type of device and screen size its visitors use.

All screen space is used to present the properties looking their absolute best.

Says Scott: “We are very excited about the launch of the new OnTheMarket.com property portal as it offers prospective homebuyers and tenants a greater level of choice. However, we shall also continue to market all of our properties on Rightmove, which remains the UK’s largest property portal and still provides us with the highest volume and our internet leads. We are also most grateful to all the people who pop into both of our offices in Duke Street, Chelmsford and St. Thomas Road, Brentwood.”

The state-of-the-art website provides the most uncluttered, user-friendly and modern UK property search service. There are no distracting ads for other products, no spam mail, no information overload - just a pure focus on properties, with hundreds of thousands of homes to buy or rent at all price points throughout the UK. Because the technology is brand new, OnTheMarket.com adapts seamlessly to whichev-

7+( KRZ GR \RX WDNH \RXU WHD 3$571(56+,3 :K\ XVH 7KH +RPH 3DUWQHUVKLS" :H¶UH DOO DERXW GHWDLO RQH OXPS RU WZR" St.Thomas Gate, St. Thomas Road BRENTWOOD Essex CM14 4DB Tel: 01277 218821 brentwood@thehomepartnership.co.uk

11 Duke Street CHELMSFORD Essex CM1 1HL Tel: 01245 250222 chelmsford@thehomepartnership.co.uk

Residential Sales, Lettings & Property Management Page 14

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SURPRISE SURPRISE

MAGIC WAND I’ve just got back from my six monthly check-up at my dentists in Hatfield Peverel, where I noticed they are now offering something called ‘The Wand’ for an extra £18 which is something that’s instead of having an injection once your next filling (or whatever) is due.

Intrigued, as I just hate having injections, I looked it up on-line and this wand thingy apparently “provides a painless, stress-free (my hands generally involuntarily grip the arms of the chair for all they are worth) alternative to dental anesthetic via a syringe”.

What’s more, there’s apparently no collateral numbness, which means there’d be no more dribbling your coffee down your shirt-front for a couple of hours afterwards (at least).

It’s supposed to be totally painless and is something that delivers computer controlled amounts of anesthetic to the desired area (i.e. the problem tooth in question).

It’s reckoned to be ideal for those of us with a phobia of needles, readers.

So hey, it’s got to be worth giving it a shot, hasn’t it?

www.theedgemag.co.uk

Did you read in the Metro about some guy called Wang Chen (Christ knows what nationality he is?) booking his girlfriend, Wen Ting, into a cosmetic surgery clinic for a boob-job for her 24th birthday present?

Only when he told her about it, she flipped her lid and punched him in the head before kicking him in his private parts.

Yeah, I know, readers....talk about being ungrateful.

Apparently young Wen went absolutely ballistic and started shouting that if Wang didn’t like her breasts then he could, you know, ‘feck right off’.

S’truth, it makes you wonder what she’d have said and done if poor old Wang had forgotten her birthday altogether, doesn’t it?

Naturally he apologised profusely and said he simply thought (wait for it) that she’d ‘like a bigger pair’ (OMG, that is just classic, is that. Talk about giving blokes in general a bad name).

And that’s the point at which Wen almost levitated whilst her head began to spin around and around as fast as helicopter blades, after which she stormed off sobbing and shouted over her shoulder that she never wanted to see or hear from Wang again.

Says Wang, “Sure, she was mildly irritated, but I honestly thought she would really like my gift. But now she says we’re finished, so I’ll just have to get her a completely different present and try to win her back.”

Page 15

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Essex Leading

“I would have bloody loved to hav p

y

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‘Back in the day’. You know, I actually hate that saying, but it’s oh so true because these days, what with my seemingly crumbling bones (don’t laugh, for it catches up with the very best of us), I wouldn’t have had a hope in hell of doing myself justice on something like Bear Grylls : Mission Survive - but just how damn fortunate were these so-called celebs to be involved?

Edge mate ‘The Butcher’ would have been good at any kind of survival of the fittest contest you care to mention back in his day too, as he’s a bit like Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke in so far as when that big fella (George Kennedy) gives Luke a jolly good pounding, Luke just won’t stay down, and neither does my mate Bernard.

In fact, one of his heroes is Ray Mears (yeah, that’s what I thought: what a strange bloke to have as your hero). He’s even got a 3ft x 2ft 6ins signed photo-

graph of Ray above his matri truth be told his wife is none there you go.

I happen to think Mission Sur Friday night tele (I used to alw nights, back in the day, but n once again, my mate ‘The Bu have it because he reckons, out.” Eh, bloke? Cashed in, m The above celebs are put on sion with one of them being e every week. But it’s seeming he-man of a she-woman or a to use a bit of savvy as well a about the brawn.

I have to say that The Edge’s overall winner fell flat early do Laurence Fox somewhat surp

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The Edge 077 646 797 44

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#

have done this....back in the day” matrimonial bed, which if none too keen about, but n Survive makes for ideal to always go out on Friday but not any more), although he Butcher’ simply won’t ons, “Bear Grylls has sold d in, more like. ut on a 12-day survival miseing eliminated pretty much mingly not all about being a n or a he-she. No, you have well and it’s not simply all dge’s prediction for the arly doors with me old mate t surprisingly being evicted

Edge Editor

(I was surprised at any rate), but Christ only knows where they got the likes of Max George from (who?) who was fortunately the first to get booted off.

Although Grylls comes from a pretty privileged background, The Edge thinks he’s an OK sort of chap.

He learned to climb and sail (just like your average kid does, NOT) from an early age, before learning to skydive and become a second dan black belt in Shotokan karate, which your editor used to practice (for a short time in my early twenties, as it goes).

On 16th May 1998, he fulfilled his childhood dream of climbing to the summit of Mount Everest, just 18 months after breaking three vertebrae in a parachuting accident.

In fact, the only blemish The Edge can honestly see on Bear’s character is the naming of two of his three sons. Jesse’s OK...but bloody Marmaduke and Huckleberry? Leave it out.

www.theedgemag.co.uk

Page 17

The Edge 222_The Edge 172.qxd 20/03/2015 12:47 Page 18

T.S.T.

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Higher education qualifications and sales or customer service experience is desirable but not essential. On the job training will be provided along with enrolment in the national apprenticeship scheme and an NVQ course

It has been a busy year here at TST, writes owner CJ. In 2012 I was simply a mobile Sports Therapist, teaching classes at various gyms in Chelmsford, when I jumped at the opportunity to take on my very first premises, only to find that after 18 short months things had moved forward to such an extent that we already needed a much larger space.

So we have relocated to the Cornell Industrial Estate, just off Navigation Road, to give us more room for the expansion of our classes and enabling us to further embrace the small group exercise element of fitness, which is very close to our hearts. And we’re still very close to the centre of Chelmsford, yet far enough out for us to have free and easy parking immediately outside the all new T.S.T. Our new premises incorporates separate studios for Holistic Classes (Yoga/Pilates/Stretch); High Energy Classes (HIIT/Circuits/MAF/Pole Fit); as well as Private Personal Training.

We also have Sports Therapy, Acupuncture, Podiatry Hypnotherapy, Counselling and Nutrition all under one roof; with the hope that whatever your need, T.S.T. can find a way to help.

So why not get in contact to book onto a group exercise class or a treatment session to ease your aching back or knees and find out what our fantastic new venue can offer specifically for you.

EMAIL: cj@totalsportstherapy.co.uk – TEL 01245 35 86 96 WEB: www.totalsportstherapy.co.uk ADDRESS: Total Sports Therapy Ltd, Unit 2, Cornell Estate, Hill Road South, Chelmsford, CM2 6HE. OPENING HOURS 8am - 9pm MONDAY-FRIDAY. SAT 8am – 1pm (or by prior arrangement)

If you really are ambitious call us NOW or submit your CV at www.dbsdata.co.uk/work-with-us

Call: 01245 397 570 www.ddbsdata.co.uk

, ! +

Twerking

Walliams & Wife

Leave our street name alone The Edge thinks by now we all know that twerking is a type of dancing whereby the individual and it’s usually a female - gyrates to music in a SPM (sexually provocative manner) which involves a helluva lotta thrusting hip movements and a low squatting stance, right? But it’s hardly classy, not like Ginger Rogers?

Meanwhile, from what The Edge can make out from twerkings entry in the English Oxford Dictionary, dancers do seem to be somewhat encouraged to both ‘work it’ and ‘shake that bootie’ down.

But it’s as Ginger (right) says: “Fred would have had a fit if I’d started to carry on like that.

After all, it is rather vulgar, don’t you think?”

Page 18

Residents of an unfortunately named street in the City of Chelmsford are adamant that they don’t want it changed.

Butt Hole Road in Writtle was originally named after the targets used in archery and dates back to Tudor times when men would practice their arrow skills. This practice can still be witnessed today on Sunday mornings in fields in which football matches are not taking place.

Indeed, Fred Bum, player-manager of Writtle Albion F.C., who play their home games on the fields which sit proudly next to Butt Hole Road, told The Edge, “Obviously the name provokes much humour amongst visiting supporters, but that’s probably because the majority of football supporters have a brain the size of a baby snail.

All things considered, it’s a talking point, but a positive talking point. And the only address they could change it to would be Arse Hole Road, otherwise nobody’s mail would arrive, so they might as well just leave it as it is.”

Meanwhile, elderly resident Elsie Molyneux (92) - that’s her age, not her house number - thinks the name has got “rather a nice ring to it”.

You wouldn’t wish a marriage break-up on anyone, would you? Particularly one that’s still relatively in its infancy, such as that of David Walliams and Lara Croft....oops, sorry....The Edge means Stone.

Then there’s their one-year-old son Alfred to consider. And their dog, Bert.

But I suppose if you do use more make-up than your wife and go wafting about in a wig, dress and a pair of high heels, something’s going to snap and presumably it was Lara.

It’s like Leon Bernicoff once said to his wife June on Gogglebox, “He’s not right, that bloke.”

The Edge 077 646 797 44

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Make the Bunny Walks Safe I was disappointed to read of yet another serious assault taking place on the Bunny Walks in Chelmsford last month.

The area, along with Central Park, has become a real hotspot for crime in recent years and it is something that the local authorities need to address quickly.

It was reported that a serious sexual assault was committed at 6am on Friday 13th February 2015 at the rear of McDonalds, next to the Riverside Retail Park. I was horrified to hear the news and my sincere condolences go out to both the victim and her family. I can not even begin to imagine the distress and upset that such a heinous crime can cause.

Hundred’s of people, including my wife, use this route on a daily basis and I am shocked that nothing has been done to improve safety in the area. I think that the total lack of action by the local authorities to date has been unacceptable, so I wrote an open letter to our local councilors (Julie Maybrick & Jean Murray), our MP (Simon Burns) and the police. I wanted to see if there was anything that could be done to protect residents from future crimes of this nature ever occurring again. I suggested that the footpaths would benefit from better lighting, CCTV and regular police patrols.

The initial response I received seemed fairly promising with Cllr Murray agreeing that: "The Bunny Walks are a problem that needs to be addressed." The Rt. Hon. Simon Burns MP said that the suggestions I had made were “sensible” and that he had contacted Essex Police and the Police & Crime Commission to see if those suggestions were “feasible”.

He further explained that he would: “press for increased security and vigilance from the Police to prevent further incidents occurring.”

Frustratingly, it seems that the responsibility for improving safety in the area falls at the hands of the police and it appears that very little is being done by them in this regard. I have been in contact with the Chief Inspector, Alan Cook, to put forward my suggestions for improving safety. His initial response was to advise me that: “The incidences of reported crimes do not show any specific time or location where (he could) develop a meaning (sic) patrol strategy”, but he gave assurances that the area would be given general attention as and whenever possible.

Personally, I didn’t view this as a particularly satisfactory response, given that in the 5 years that I have lived in the area I have not seen one single police officer out on patrol. Remember, there haven’t just been a few reported incidents of anti-social behaviour; this is an area that has a history of serious sexual assaults and violent crime being committed.

To support my position I wanted to

understand what types of crime were committed on the Bunny Walks, and how frequently. In this regard, I made a formal request, under the freedom of information act, for data and also asked the Chief Inspector for details about what patrols were taking place and how he devised his strategy for prioritising patrols.

In their response I was told by the Information Management team at Essex Police that the term ‘the bunny walks’ was a “colloquialism” and that the police were unable to determine “where it started and where it finished.” They said that they did not “have data for the exact number of arrests, or number of convictions in connection with crime on the bunny walks.”

The Chief Inspector later explained that they had undertaken a “plain clothes operation” in the area following the incident, but that “no offences were disclosed (sic).” He explained that PCSO’s were responsible for carrying out foot patrols, but that he was unable to “come up with a meaningful patrol strategy, other than carrying out patrols on an ad hoc basis” because the bunny walks was not identified as a crime “hotspot”.

This is completely unacceptable in my view; the whole idea of carrying out regular patrols is to demonstrate a police presence in the area in order to try and prevent crime by acting as a deterrent to potential criminals. The benefit of such an initiative is somewhat lost if it is carried out in plain clothes. Also I think it is highly unlikely that the Chief Inspector

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would be able to develop a realistic patrol strategy if he does not have access to recorded data of crime in the area.

The Chief Inspector has advised that a review of the area is being conducted by the Safer Chelmsford Partnership and that consideration will be given to lighting, increased use of CCTV and cutting down bushes to open up views (interestingly, he didn’t say that he’d consider increased patrols). So we will just have to wait to see what they come up with, although based on such responses to date, I am not holding my breath.

If you would like to support, or campaign, for increased safety, then please join our Facebook Page: Make The Bunny Walks Safe.

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Page 19

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MOTCO

Man on the Clapham Omnibus

There’s no room in life for poor ice-cream It is 21.55 and Motty finds himself at Liverpool Street station, heading for the tired and emotional express leaving at 22.00 hours. This train, of course, will be crammed with over stimulated people consuming burgers, Southern fried who knows what, noodles and other delicacies, including that ‘traditional’ chicken tikka flavour Cornish pastie. But not the Mott.

If any of that little lot takes your fancy, then so be it. But at Liverpool Street station there is now the opportunity to purchase premium ice-cream. Yup, that’s right, ice-cream. Which is almost as fattening as a burger, but far more enjoyable.

Now I recognise that such a substance is probably not the norm after four pints of Guinness or a fair few glasses of chardonnay, but ice-cream should definitely be considered as a new choice. There is no right or wrong time for eating particular foods anymore. Those days ended with the school dinner ladies in their starched overalls, making you sit there ’til you’d finished some pile of crud that was all but making you gag.

N.B. Readers over a certain age will know exactly the type of sadistic situation being referred to there.

It does not particularly have to be a sunny, nor a summers day; it just has to be a day when you fancy ice-cream, or a moments impetuousness as you are absentmindedly walking along. It may be in the park under some sunshine, or the inside of a shopping centre on a dark and rainy day. Because ice-cream has long since shed its traditional ‘summer season only’ purchase status and is now a year round treat. It’s an indulgence fit for adults and children alike; there are no gender or age boundaries for this most delightful of food items.

Yet here lies the problem. Just like cheap burgers, chewy steaks, cheap cola taste-alikes and fake TOWIE tans (in fact, anything TOWIE whatsoever), there is poor ice-cream. Let’s be straight here and now, there is no room in life for this rubbish and that’s that. You breeze up to the van in the park, it looks nice and is adorned with all sorts of artwork suggesting good life, sunshine, milky things and slogans such as ‘beware of children’ (good advice, just ask any celebrity from the 70’s), ‘freshly made for you’ and ‘freshly whipped’ (although that’s probably just the driver). Whereas the reality is quite something else.

younger readers, there was). Said individual, who will doubtless be blearily eyed from his second night job as a pizza delivery driver, delivering the pizza equivalent, then puts cone to machine and pulls the lever of happiness, only to receive a spluttering sound and a few errant splats of whitish creamy stuff.

He then reaches round and takes a tetra brick from a tray of similar plain white packages marked ’non-dairy ice-cream’ and pours it into the top of the machine and hey presto, all the mystique has gone as the spluttering device almost instantaneously spews out an ingredient thicker than shaving foam, but in reality only marginally different in taste.

The disappointment is palpable. Now at school, you would have been told in science classes that air will be tasteless, odourless and colourless, but obviously they have never sat behind ‘Air Biscuit Williams’ the night after five pints and a meat Dhansak. In fact, it truly is a little ‘white’ lie because what you see spluttering out of a cheap ice-cream pump is little more than white air, with some milk type flavour pretence. This is called overrun. Yup, overrun. It’s a term used to describe the amount of air allowed into ice-cream, which can be as much as 45%, whilst in cheap ice-cream there is not much cream either.

But why not make ice-cream an enjoyable luxury? Our very own Rossi of Southend probably makes the best plain vanilla ice-cream in the world. It has to be the fresh soft scoop kind, but even their tubs are a good fall back and are available in local supermarkets nowadays.

Good ice-cream should be as rich and as thick as an English aristocrat’s eldest son, whilst leaving the texture of silk in your mouth and the taste of milk, cream, vanilla and bugger all else. You may be asked to make room for many bad things in life, such as the fact that a lot of the Western world now truly thinks that our fine county is absolutely like TOWIE, or otherwise distressing stories such as eating chips is bad for you.

But you should never, ever, make room in life for poor ice-cream.

From the driver’s seat emerges a body in a nylon coat that last saw a washing machine when there was still a washing powder called OMO (yes, all you

Yours aye, Motty.

Charlize

Sundaysomnia

Nurse

We were having a lazy Sunday sat on the sofa.

I was reading the ’papers while Mrs Edge started to look through some of the movies she’d recorded.

Next thing I know, Snow White and the (bloody) Huntsman is on and I’m thinking, ‘This is another one of her girlies movies’ so I just carried on with my reading, though every so often taking a sneak peek to see what I was missing.

Then Charlize Theron comes on the screen as the wicked queen and OMG, have you ever seen anyone so beautiful in all your life?

Mind, she’s an evil bugger to boot, and there are some brilliant special effects. Then there’s Ian McShane and Ray Winstone as two of the seven dwarves (how the hell did they shrink them down as much as they did?).

So all things considered, I was pretty impressed!

It seems as though millions of us Brits suffer from Sundaysomnia, which is the sheer and utter dread of going to work the following morning and the week starting all over again.

Apparently one-in-five of us finds it nigh on impossible to get a decent nights sleep whenever Monday morning is looming, with 56% of those getting less than four hours kip.

Almost a quarter of working women admit that they suffer from Sundaysomnia.

Your editor remembers the days - and there were plenty of ’em, let me assure you - when he too suffered with both Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesdaysomnia, but Thursday nights were always alright because Fridays have always been Fridays, haven’t they?

So all you power-women who travel up to London - what’s hiding behind your masks?

What do you make of the new Paul Whitehouse ‘black comedy’ I think they call this type of stuff (BBC2/10:00pm/Tuesdays), readers?

I wasn’t so sure whilst watching the first one, but during the second episode (only four have been cast) I suddenly and uncontrollably burst out laughing at one of his sketches, when really it felt totally inappropriate to do so (the lad who’s come back from Iraq and the slightest noise sets him off, only for his mum to come clattering into the living-room with a tray laden with tea and biscuits and he goes diving for cover).

I suppose you could say that Whitehouse is making light of serious issues; he’s certainly treading a fine line.

But he’s such an affable chap who’s always got a smile on his face that we all think, “No, not him. He’s a good egg, he is.”

Page 20

The Edge 077 646 797 44

The Edge 222_The Edge 172.qxd 20/03/2015 13:00 Page 21

The Ignorant Pig (he just doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t give a sh t!)

*

â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;The Pigâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; returns with a one-off look at a local news story I see from the local press that The Cave is moving to the High Street and about bloody time too, in my humble opinion.

Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s very hard for my little legs to carry me from the town centre, up Duke Street to the bus station, then all the way down Viaduct Road (almost to Parkway) where it used to be situated.

Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s alright for you longer-legged people; it only takes you a few minutes.

But by the time I get there, I need to soak my poor little trotters in apple sauce to recover.

Now I ask all you good people of Chelmsford to consider the facts before immediately complaining, because I remember all of those shock/horror stories that were expressed before first "+opened ! 2 ' "-! +The ! %)Cave %" '-, -%2 (+its .,doors #. ten & 'years ago. !", &" !â&#x20AC;&#x153;Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s end (',.%of civilisation,â&#x20AC;? people wailed. )% the ''"' '- ,(%" "-(+ (.'- '- &(++($ + ,.+/ 2(+ (+ Well, civilisation didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t end, did it?

Everything just carried on as per normal.

I have been visiting The Cave for more years than I care to remember and it certainly hasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t done me any harm (donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t worry, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve always looked - -! ,like & this).

I also strongly suspect that it hasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t caused anyone else any harm either.

Naturally I understand peopleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s concerns; in fact, I share them.

I for one would not like to see our beautiful High Street, what with its betting shops, pay day loan shops, pawnbrokers shops, porn shops, sexual lingerie shops, pound shops, empty shops, derelict shops, not to mention the street beggars who sleep in their doorways, ever to be spoiled by an ever so discreet and well managed strip club.

That just wouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t do, would it?

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ONLY JOKING! PARTY

Sam has been in business for 25 years and is sick and tired of the stress. So he quits his job and buys 50 acres in Alaska, as far away from humanity as possible.

He sees the postman once a week and gets groceries once a month. Otherwise it's total peace and quiet.

After six months of almost total isolation, someone knocks on his door. He opens it and there's a big, bearded man standing there.

"Name's Lars. I’m your neighbor from forty miles away. Having a birthday party Friday. Thought you might like to come. About five.”

"Great," says Sam. "Sure. Hey, after six months out here, I guess I'm finally ready to meet some new folks. Thank you."

As Lars is leaving, he stops. "Gotta warn you, there's gonna be some drinkin'."

"Oh, not a problem,” says Sam. “I was in business for 25 years, so I’m sure I can knock it back along with the best of ’em."

Once again, as he starts to leave, Lars stops.

"More'n'likely gonna be some fightin' too."

Sam says, "Well, I tend to get along with most people, so I'll be there. Thanks again."

Yet again Lars turns from the door, then turns back. "I've seen some wild sex at these parties as well, y’know."

"Oh, now you’re really talking," says Sam. "I've been all alone for the past six months so I'll definitely be there. By the way, what should I bring?"

Lars looks at him squarely and says, "Whatever you want. Just gonna be the two of us".

CUSTODY A man and his young wife are in a divorce court, but the custody of their children is posing a problem.

The mother leapt to her feet and protested to the judge that since she brought the children into this world, she should retain custody of them.

But the man also wanted custody, so the judge asked for his justification.

After a long silence, the man slowly rose to his feet and said, "Your Honor, when I put a coin into a vending machine and a can of Coke comes out, who does that Coke belong to, me

or the machine?"

WHAT’S IN THE BOX? A little old lady went to the grocery store to buy some cat food. She picked up four tins and took them to the check-out counter.

The girl at the cash register said, "I'm sorry, but we cannot sell you cat food without proof that you have a cat. A lot of old people buy cat food to eat themselves and the management wants proof that you are buying the food for your cat."

So the little old lady went back home, picked up her cat and brought it back to the store, which then promptly sold her the cat food.

The next day, she tried to buy four tins of dog food. Once again, the cashier said, "I'm sorry, but we cannot sell you dog food without proof that you own a dog. A lot of old people buy dog food to eat themselves, but the management wants proof that you are buying the food for your dog."

So she went home and brought back her dog and was then able to buy the dog food.

The next day the old lady brought with her a box with a hole in the top and asked the cashier to stick her hand in the hole.

The cashier said, "No way. You might have a snake in there."

The little old lady assured her that there was nothing in the box that could harm her.

So the cashier put her hand into the box, but quickly pulled it out again and looked horrified once she’d looked at it.

"That’s right," said the little old lady, “I want to buy some toilet paper."

ETHEL READY The other day, Ethel checked into a motel on her 70th birthday as she was a bit lonely. And then she thought, ‘I know, I'll call one of those men you see advertised in ’phone boxes for escort services and sensual massage.’

So she looked through the local ’phone book, found a full page ad for a guy calling himself Tender Tony, a very handsome man with assorted physical skills, flexing his pecs in his photograph. He had all the right muscles in all the right places. So Ethel figured, ‘What the heck, nobody will ever know. I'll give Tony a call.’

"Good evening, ma'am,” said the voice answering the ’phone. “How may I help you?”

‘Oh my,’ thought Ethel, as he sounded soooo sexy.

Afraid she would lose her nerve if she hesitated, she rushed right in and said, "Hi. I understand you give a great massage so I'd like you to come over to my motel room and give me one.

No, wait, I should be straight with you. I'm in town all alone and what I really want is sex. I want it hot and I want it now. Bring implements, toys, rubber, leather, whips, everything you've got in your bag of tricks. We'll go hot and heavy all night long. Tie me up, cover me in chocolate sauce and whipped cream, anything and everything,whatever takes your fancy. How does that sound, young man?"

The voice on the other end of the line gulped and replied, "Great, but you need to press 9 for an outside line.”

MONASTERY OF SILENCE

“Will that be all, sir?”

Sister Mary Katherine entered the Monastery of Silence. The Priest said, “Sister, this is a silent monastery. You are welcome here as long as you like, but you may not speak until I direct you to do so.”

So Sister Mary Katherine lived in the monastery for five years before the Priest said to her, “Sister Mary Katherine, you have been here for the past five years. You may speak two words.”

So Sister Mary Katherine said, “Hard bed.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” the Priest said, “We will get you a softer bed.”

Another five years goes by, and Sister Mary Katherine is called by the Priest. “You may now say another two words, Sister Mary Katherine.”

“Cold food,” says Sister Mary Katherine, and the Priest assures her that her food will be warmer in the future.

On her 15th anniversary at the monastery, the Priest once again calls for Sister Mary Katherine to visit him.

“You may say another two words.” he says.

“I quit,” says Sister Mary Katherine.

“It's probably for the best,” says the Priest.

“You've done nothing but fecking moan since you arrived.”

LITTLE JOHNNY During one of her daily classes, a young student teacher, trying to teach her class good manners, asks her students the following question: “If you were out on a date, having dinner with a nice young lady, how would you explain to her that you have to go to the bathroom?”

Paul puts his hand up and says: “I’d say, ‘Excuse me, but I need to go pee.’”

The teacher responds: “That would be quite impolite, Paul. What about you Sherman?”

Sherman answers: “I am so sorry, but I really need to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back.”

“That's better, Sherman,” says the teacher, “but it's still not very nice to use the word ‘bathroom’ at the dinner table.”

Little Johnny puts his hand up.

“Can you use your brain, for once, and show us your good manners?” the teacher quips.

Little Johnny says, “I would say, ‘Darling, may I please be excused for a moment? I have to shake hands with a very dear friend of mine, whom I hope to introduce you to after dinner.’”

The teacher fainted.

SACKED I got sacked from my job as a bingo caller.

Apparently “A meal for two with a hairy view” is not the way to call number sixty-nine.

BUDGIE My budgie broke his leg today, so I made him a little splint out of a couple of redhead matches.

His little face lit up when he tried to walk as unfortunately I had forgotten to remove the sandpaper from the bottom of its cage.

BUSINESS TRIPS An airline sent out questionnaires after they had introduced half-price fares for wives accompanying their husbands on business trips, anticipating some valuable feedback. However, the vast majority of the replies simply read: “What trip?”

All jokes published are supplied by Edge readers. Please send your ‘egg yokes’ to shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

The Edge 222_The Edge 172.qxd 20/03/2015 13:00 Page 23

LOOK But it doesn’t have to be this way, does it?

Look at Elton John?

Look at Robbie Williams?

Look at Wayne Rooney?

Look at James Nesbit?

Look at Rob Brydon?

Christ, look at ‘Embarrassing Bodies’ heartthrob Dr. Christian Jessen, who’s had not one, but two hair transplants. “I feel so much more confident now,” he says, “particularly when I have to strip naked and do photo-shoots.”

(The Edge also reckons David Beckham and Matthew McConaughey ‘have had work done’ on their bonces too, readers.)

SHEDLOADS

J

ust what has happened to Prince William’s hair? It’s the curse of the Windsor’s, to be sure, to be sure.

I don’t know about you, readers, but your editor never saw it coming (10-15 years ago). Did you?

When William was a young man he almost achieved popstar status and young girls would almost swoon in his presence, whereas brother Harry was just some ugly little ginger scrote. A bit of a runt, really. He used to be always squinting and look as though he permanently had a bad smell beneath his nose.

Oh how the table’s have turned.

Wills has got shedloads of money, so why doesn’t he simply have a transplant, or get a decent ‘rug’ (we’d stomach that, wouldn’t we? Without an uprising if the Duke of Cornwall started sporting a ‘syrup’....”The peasants are revolting, your Royal Highness. Revolting, I say.”).

A top surgeon actually thinks that William will look like this (left) by the time he is approaching his fiftieth burpday, whilst Harry won’t be far behind.

“They’ve got no chance,” he says. “Look at their dad. Look at their granddad. Look at their uncle (Prince Edward). (Hey, how come Prince Andrew has kept his hair?) And then there’s a similar trait on his mother’s side as the late Earl of Spencer was pretty much as bald as a coot.

expert. Job done. He looks so much better these days and women are back to fancying the pants off him again.

SUBJECTS

So surely Prince William owes it to his subjects (i.e. us lot) to at least go down the same route, as baldness looks particularly stupid when you keep your hair pretty much the same as it always was everywhere else, as opposed to ‘going with the flow’.

And surely he could get away with wearing a discreet wig, if his baldness has gone too far, couldn’t he? Only what we don’t want to be seeing is his ‘fake thatch’ moving about whenever he scratches his head.

BALLS

GQ magazine reckon he should just take the bull by the balls and shave his whole head and have done with it. “Thankfully his ears aren’t like two open taxi doors,” they say, ”so Wills should look quite alright.”

INERTIA

The bottom line is that William needs to take action of one course or another, as opposed to his current mode of inertia. He seriously needs to shake a leg.

In short: Do something, man. Do something!

TRANSPLANT

“The only long-term cure is for him to have a hair transplant, although I fear it’s already too late for Prince William as he has such a vast area of baldness to cover.”

The thing is, readers (and your editor is speaking with almost 25 years personal experience here), it’s not as if he’s helping himself, is it? Look at how William Hague shaved his ‘hedges’ off and then put it about that he was a judo or karate

Ah bless! He looks just like his Mum here.

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I don’t know about you, readers, but there are two things that I particularly like in life (actually, there are a helluva lot more than just two things, but let’s restrict it to deux for the purposes of this most right riveting of articles). One is ‘a good deal’ and the other is ‘a weekend away’. And hey, if you combine the two, well then, Bob is most definitely your Uncle.

First things first though: hands up how many snobs read The Edge?

Come on, don’t be shy, because I’m a snob when it comes to certain things, such as drinking out of a nice glass with a fine cut edge so that when the contents reach your lips it most definitely enhances the taste. What’s more, you clearly don’t have to have money to be a snob, because it’s simply a matter of taste.

The reason I ask is I’m curious to know how many of you wouldn’t take advantage of a couple of nights in the purple pleasuredome that is a Premier Inn at just £35 per room per night? On principle, like?

I secured us and The Feckwit’s (who incidentally haven’t got a snobbish bone in their body, because as I said, it’s all a question of taste and you have to at least have some to be considered) a Saturday night in Herne Bay, followed by a Sunday evening in Canterbury, for just £70 all in, and I honestly think you’d be mad to turn down such a good deal.

When I say ‘all in’, there’s more. For an extra twenty-three quid per person (per night) we got to take advantage of any 2-courses in their restaurant (just over the road) for dinner, plus a pint of beer each ‘for the lads’ and a ‘fruit based drink’ (wine) for ‘the little ladies’, as well as being given the option to eat and drink as much as we possibly could for breakfast the following day.

Talk about mouths and gift horses.

Why Kent?

Well, you’ve got to go where the offers are, haven’t you?

Seriously though, we can’t keep driving to Dorset (a six hour round trip) and we were all kind of curious about Kent, as it’s obviously an adjoining county (so proper handy distancewise) and one where The Darling Buds of May was filmed and some of the scenery in that was t’rific, as Pop Larkin would say.

Our day began at 9:00am prompt when we visited Bate motorcycle dealers in Dartford to look at their Royal Enfields, only I won’t start going on about them again. After which we headed to Whitstable for a spot of breakfast. You never know where to go when you turn up anywhere new, do you? So we stumbled down the High Street and it was perishing, it was, until we spotted a place called Tea & Times. So I immediately blurted, “I wonder whether this place is any good?” and a bloke who was just exiting said, “Yeah, it is!” So into their warmth we went for 4 bacon & egg toasted sandwiches and....it wasn’t a patch on our very own a canteen, sadly. Whitstable is quite a nice little town for a walk around though and there looks to be a nice little pub just off the shingle beach, but we were bloody freezing, so we got back into the motor and carried on the A299 to Broadstairs and into pretty much the first halfdecent pub we could find, which was a relief as it was proper, proper cold.

Would you Adam & Eve it though, the following day was glorious. So after an epic dinner the night before of a full rack of ribs and a lovely apple & blueberry crumble with both ice-cream and custard for dessert, we were up relatively early, still a bit too full to fully indulge in a proper English breakfast, before hitting the road. We stopped off at Botany Bay for a bit of a mooch about along the coast and for those of you who prefer to spend in excess of £35 per night, then let The Edge recommend to you The Botany Bay Hotel, and I don’t imagine you’ll be disappointed either.

From there we thought we’d give Broadstairs another look as places are always better in the sun, aren’t they? We all had a coffee-brandy (from our hipflasks) whilst we were sat by the sea and it was reet ’andsome. continued

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head to gain entrance on the Monday before we were due to drive home, we gave it a swerve and headed for a nice warming cup of hot chocolate at Costa as the Monday was bitterly cold again with the wind cutting right through you.

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SWIMMING WITH PIGS IN THE CARIBBEAN The Edge couldn’t believe this story when it heard it.

Flying pigs, yes (sort of), as in when you’re telling porkies.

But swimming pigs???

Thing is, it’s all going on out in the crystal clear waters of the Bahamas where some piggies have their own ickle island where they live in piggy-wiggy paradise.

Sure tourists naturally go visit these cutey-wutey creatures, but this only seems to bring out the showmanship of the island’s feral inhabitants who like nothing better (or so it seems) than showing off their freestyle piggy-paddling abilities.

How they came to be there is all a bit of a mystery, although rumour has it that maybe some sailors (pirates?) dropped them off, thinking they’d be a jolly good food source when they returned. Only they never came back.

The pigs appear to be remarkably well adapted to their beach bum lifestyle of spending endless days both frolicking in the water - they are surprisingly strong swimmers, even the ickle piglets - and lazing on the sand.

Best of all, it seems they are perfectly happy to swim alongside holidaymakers.

PIG ISLAND

Pig Island, or Big Major Cay (Exuma Caysas it is officially known as), is blessed with a natural water spring and is sheltered by a string of

Page 26

neighbouring islands that protects it from the waves caused by tropical storms, so that all these little piggies have to worry about is where their next meal is coming from.

So where does their grub actually come from?

Well, these clever pigs have discovered that the crews on passing yachts regularly dump their excess food into the sea, so these days they go on the front foot and actually plunge into the water and swim right up to the vessels in the hope of landing a free meal. How very conniving of them is that, readers?

LIVING THE DREAM

In fact, the pigs have been so successful in their fodder sourcing activities that they are now, most definitely, ‘living the dream’ whilst raising their families on a tropical island with nothing to do all day but eat, sleep and swim.

One holidaymaker says, “It is strange enough to see pigs lazing around on a tropical white sandy beach, but to then see them swimming out to greet oncoming boats in the hope of securing a meal, well, that is quite something else.”

Another more romantic reason for the piggies taking up residence on Pig Island is that perhaps they were survivors of a shipwreck and they all managed to swim safely to the shore, but that’s pushing the boundaries of reason a little bit too far even for The Edge to contemplate.

Big Major Cay itself is uninhibited by man, so the pigs rule, along with a few stray cats and goats.

If you have kiddiwinkles, readers, you might be interested in buying them Jennifer R. Nolan’s book called ‘Swimming with Swine’. No it’s not called that, of course it ruddy well isn’t. It’s called ‘The Secret of Pig Island’ and no doubt they will love all of the porky stories it contains.

And for all you grown-up’s wanting to swim with pigs, well, it seems one of the best ways to do it is to get your arses out to Great Exuma, which is reckoned to be amazingly beautiful, and then hook yourselves up with Robert’s Island Adventures for tours ranging from $75 - $175pp which also includes visiting the 007 Thunderball Grotto, iguanas, sea turtles, sand bar, as well as swimming with sharks (er, no thanks).

JUST FOR A LAUGH

You know what, readers...your editor started compiling this article as much for a laugh as anything else. But the more I’ve read about Exuma, the more I think I actually fancy going there.

It certainly sounds as though it’d make for a right riveting change from the Maldives - not that I’ve ever been, but I can’t say as though I’ve ever desperately wanted to go.

And if swimming with pigs* is good enough for Johnny Depp (he apparently did it during a break in filming one of his ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ flicks), then hell, it’s certainly good enough for The Edge too. * Of course, any of you readers who have already done it, kindly email shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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The Edge 222_The Edge 172.qxd 20/03/2015 13:12 Page 27

SURVIVAL

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I have become prone to culling my )( . , '/ " ( )/, ! ' (. ,)' hobbies and interests. Reading? Who &)0 )( # .) )* ( )/. has time for that when there’s a din'3 *,) & '- ( .) . && '3 ./.), ." . ner to cook, lunch to prepare, clothes -/ , ,)' *, --#)( ( (2# .3 . to iron? Most days I find myself too #,-. " 1 - /( ,-. ( #(! ( #. &. &#% tired to muster the energy required to "/! 1 #!". " ( &# . ) ) '3 do the things I actually enjoy doing -")/& ,- /. 0 (./ &&3 ." -%#** it’s so much easier to just flop down 3- -* (. #( ( ." 2. (-#)(- )( on the sofa and flick through the TV '3 1),%&) ' ( #(-/,')/(. & channels despondently. I forget that *,) & ' ( " .", . ( .) %# % ' I’m working to live and focus solely ) ." )/,upon surviving.

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On'* your daily feel #!(, commute *)**#(! /*you( may /,!#(! the /- .)familiar ) -) frustration of that woman on the tube with her elbow firmly and ignorantly " #( wedged ."#(% into(.your & &&(back -- as she her6 50 - but that& reads '* #!( #' Shades .) " (!

7 -.,#0 woman got'it right .)1 , - has ( #(! (. & "(just &." not #- about ,#'# her choice of reading).

Life is ( .#)( .",)/!" '* #!(#(! ( too ! ..#(! short to squeeze most)/. out."of#, * )*& not .) 6)* ( /*7 ( the 6. &%7 every available *,) & '"#&-. minute. &# 0 Just )."because #( ( it’s more to "stand *& 3 socially 0#. & ,)&acceptable #( *,)0# #(! &* .) on numbly blank .")-the-/tube,#(! ,)' staring ' (. &at" a &." space morning, doesn’t #--/ every &-) ."#(% ." . #(it-)' #(-.mean ( it’s annoying ."#-right. /&./,Those ) #(! )* ( (commuters ")( -. who their& *,) books and )/.read * ,-)( & '#- laugh .,#' at(. & their tablet are ." the'ones#(! that .) .")1")screens -/ , ,)' are cramming bit more #- ,#'#( . !just #(-.a #. ,,# &‘me ."#(! time’ that’s .) 2*into ,# (their (days, * , and *.#)() some' (. &

thing #&&( --we) should ( .)all"work (! towards. /. ,#!". ()1

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-)' )( things 1#." we ' (. & " to &." easy over )'* during 1),% to ), let ." work ' #( ."take #, )1( (3the week #(! and -3'*become ." .# .)an automated '#&3 ' ' , #robot, but it’s far more )( ."#(! /. "#,#(!

-)'rewarding )( 1") to)/& make effort and)enjoy *). (.#that &&3 .extra % &).) .#' ), our )' days. *&# . ( )( !)#(! *,) & ' #- +/#.

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Long(.hours * )*& , #!(), ( #obviously ." 3 " 0 (7. make early in the -/ , getting ,)' up-#'#& , *,) & 'morning ." 3 far less but even half an 1)(7. /(appealing, ,-. ( 3)/,hour extra can afford you some time to read, in bed -*#. ."or have . ."a .cup (.#of#-tea,#'#( .#)(little & 1- luxuries , */. #(that *& can.)make *,). us . # happi3)/ er significant . &&in small, *). (.# yet & '*&)3 , ." .ways.

3)/ -/So , instead needed’ early , ,)' 'of(.that & " ‘much &." #--/ 3)/ 1#&& night, why! not . #(&3 (). . ." take $) a couple )/,- of."hours . back 1)(7. to0 do , what ." you ) # #love & , and -)( feel 3)/ , slightly more more ).satis!#0 ( /. #. 1#&&tired,."yet, far& )( ) fied following #( ),'the.#)( )( ' (.day. & " Lunchtimes &." #- , #&3 spent be 0 #& in& dingy /. ."work ! (canteens , & */ &# can #- -.#&& the option -) easy , "#( ." .when ), ' your (3 'brain (. & aches and all do is eat " &." #--/ - you , - want ( -to-)' ."#(! away your misery, walking +/#. ,#!". (#(! "but ( 3)/ &))% around . #. outside ,)' ."#-and *)#(.truly ) 0#soaking 1 -/ up(&3your 6. &%#(! immediate can )/. ' (. surroundings & " &."7 ) -(7. , really &&3 - ' make to your mood.

-) **a difference &#(! (3 '), 7' ().

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." . 3)/ -")/& % * 3)/, *,) & '- ).

There .& /*are ( lots "# of(things 1 3 we /. can) all do to &#improve 0 ." . the 3)/ quality -")/& of our - & lives .#0 #( each and-"every this#(includes 1") 3)/ , 'day (. &and " &." ),' .#)(

1#.. , @yasminejourno 3 -'#( $)/,() Twitter

by Yasmine appreciating what we already have 1#." /-. /- 3)/ , ( )/, ! and the most it. As .) )*making (&3 #, 3)/, *,) & of'#. )some-(7. one just spent eight,#months ' (who 3)/has -")/& ,3 &)( - ( of'#&3 employment ' ' ,- on(virtual *,)0# shut-down, !, . I have come to realise just how -/**),. ( .1),% 1" ( 3)/ , -/impor,#(! tant change-in- attitude is. ,/. #(a ')-. *). (.# &really '*&)3

)&& !/ -

+/ #(. ( - & ./, ,- ),

So the (tube,.)shop . read " ,- on) (). %()1on-line )/. ." when is watching, your -. ./- no-one ) 3)/, ' (. & " &." spend &.")/!" hard cash on an #(.) arts!and 3)/ 'earned 3 & *, --/,#..#(! )/. crafts ) 3)/,course, )' ),.go 4)(for drinks ( 2*&after #(#(!work.

Oh, write-")/& your monthly 3)/,-and & 3)/ ( 0 , feature & ) &#! for when slow in .) The ) -) Edge .7- 3)/, &# the ( day 3)/ is-")/& order to allow even& more &#0 #. ")1 3)/ yourself & )' ),.

1#.")/. ‘me’, )time *, and $/ # treasure your life every single day - and not just those two days at the weekend.

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Page 27

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Max Headroom’s

BIZARRE NEWS

EP MC8;O EPMA8BPA Tel: 01245 905 805 www.webwax.co.uk www.twitter/ webwaxdesign www.facebook.com/ webwaxdesign 26 Broomfield Road, Chelmsford, Essex CM1 1SW

PROCLAIMERS BORN IN CHELMSFORD Turns out identical twins Charlie and Craig Proclaimer (both aged 53, obviously) weren’t born in Edinburgh at all. No, readers, they were actually born in Chelmsford back in 1962.

Says Charlie (he’s the one on the left, or is it the right?): “Ma dar obviously got ma mar up the duff in the back of his van in Auchtermuchty, but he didnee want us to be of Scottish descent, so he motored me mar doon to Chelmsford especially so that we could be born there, which was the toon where me dar was conceived, apparently the noo.”

Craig continues (or is it Charlie?): Me mar’s waters actually broke on the journey doon whilst she was changing a burst tyre around aboot the Great Dunmow area, after which our dar motored on, ignoring her screams, as nay bloody children of his were ever going to be born in Great poxy Dunmow, he was fond of saying.”

And that, dear readers, is the journey that inspired The Proclaimers famous I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) - the mad dash to get to Chelmsford.

WHAT YOU LOOKIN’ AT? There are approximately 1.3 to 1.5 billion cows grazing, sleeping, chewing their cud and farting on Planet Earth, so when they light one, hey, it’s generally a beaut. Just like us humans, cows do plenty of farting and burping, releasing methane gas into the atmosphere.

In a report by the United Nations Food & Agriculture Organisation, it claims that the livestock sector - most of which are cows - “generates more greenhouse gas emissions (as measured in CO2 equivalent, oh yeah) than the whole of global transport”.

Cows produce so much methane - which is 21 times more potent at trapping the heat from the sun than carbon dioxide, don’t y’know - because they have not one, not two, not three, but four stomachs. It’s further estimated that each individual cow lets out (once again via either farting or burping) between 30 and 50 gallons of methane gas per day.

So the question begs: Was the Great Chicago Fire really created by a cow? And should we feel guilty whenever we tuck into a Sunday Roast?

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Over the 15 years this column has existed, and whether it was being penned in Chelmsford, London, New York or now San Diego, occasionally it has been guilty of the crime associated with ageing people everywhere. The crime of grumpiness.

CALIFORNIA DREAMIN’

They also seem to like the word ‘experience’. So you can’t simply purchase a policy any more, you have to have an Insurance Buying Experience. It’s cobblers, of course. That sort of transaction is based 99% on price and only 1% on the experience. But hey-ho, tell us about the experience anyway.

There’s no doubt about it, as you pass from the first flush of youth through middle age and into the autumnal years, your tolerance level for the stupidity of other people reduces exponentially. Hand in hand with that tolerance reduction goes an increased pre-disposition to moan about everything.

Not very attractive traits, are they?

On the other hand, there have been numerous surveys that have shown people in their 60s and 70s to be at their happiest in life.

So why the grumpiness? The two things don’t really hang together.

The wise person, if they are in reasonably good shape physically and financially, on reaching the happy state in which the daily grind of work is no longer necessary, will step back, reassess and conclude that actually, life’s pretty good right now. So what if the gas man doesn’t turn up when he said he would? You have nothing else that can’t wait a day or two and haven’t had to waste a precious day off. So a brief ‘tut’ and a shrug of the shoulders is a more appropriate reaction than a purple faced rant at yet another idiot in the customer service department.

by Steve Ward

HOW WAS IT FOR YOU, DEAR? tics, yoga teachers, and Hippy new age charlatans will tell you they can provide throughout the life cycle. But honestly, who has time for all that when there’s a mortgage to pay and kids to feed?

you are invited to complete a survey.

Typically you are asked a number of questions and give a 1-10 rating. They take it very seriously, of course. At least they say they do.

All of which is a very long winded introduction to something that, were I a younger man, would have been bugging the crap out of me ever since I got to sunny southern California. So, yes, despite all the above, it’s time for a moan.

Being a well brought up person your inclination is to be polite and complete the survey for them. You recognise that the questions are so general that the company cannot really learn anything specific that might improve their performance, but hey, it’s only a couple of minutes. There’s that more relaxed attitude to life kicking in again.

This more relaxed approach to the vagaries and fallibilities of other people sometimes needs to be cultivated consciously because the grumpy gene is a strong one with solid survival skills.

In fact, I’m not sure this is necessarily a California thing, or even a particularly US one, because I suspect it’s happening back there too. It’s the obsession with companies to demand you tell them how they are doing.

I guess the inner calmness we’re talking about here is something that eastern mys-

Recently every time you log on to a web site, or call a company on the telephone,

shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

Normal people just don’t function like that.

Such companies are a necessary part of modern life; you sign up, you pay your dues and that’s that.

The surveys all seem to boil down to a last question, which is the one they really want you to answer. How likely are you to recommend them to a friend? Well, I don’t know about you, but recommending an insurance company to a friend is not something I’ve ever thought about, much less done.

Anyway, after a few months of this nonsense even the newly laid-back retiree might reach the stage whereby he can’t be arsed with the surveys any more and start pressing the ‘No Thanks’ button with some regularity.

But hang on a minute, it just got worse.

This one is definitely California specific because it was the website of a local company here in San Diego. At the end of the survey I was thanked for my opinions and then asked to rate my survey experience.

Yup. Not only was I supposed to tell the company how wonderful they were, or not, but then I had to let the assessment people know my survey experience was also orgasmic. Or not. The phrase ‘things are getting out of hand’ doesn’t begin to describe what’s going on here. The inner grumpy old git would be completely justified in ranting against this one, no?

And that’s it for another month from the land of perpetual summer. But just to conclude, on a scale of 1-10, how likely are you to recommend this column to a friend?

Zero is an invalid response….

You can contact Wardo at steveward2000@hotmail.com

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TOTALLY TRACIE MONEY IN MY POCKET

Do you remember watching the BBC TV programme ‘Tomorrow’s World’ when you were growing up? I was forced to watch it by my parents and I would sit there, whiling away the minutes until ‘Top of The Pops’ came on immediately after it.

TW would show us the gadgets of the future and how they would alter our lives and make living easier. And if there was ever an episode on the cashless way of life, I am sure it would have got me excited, along with the pocket calculator, the digital watch and the personal stereo.

I even remember a particular episode where they showed CDs that were indestructible; you could honestly even spread butter on your toast with them and they would, according to Tomorrow’s World, still play. In fact, lots and lots of stuff could be stored on these little circular discs and oh how we oooohed and ahhhhed at the marvels of the future that awaited us.

A future without cash - no more shrapnel weighing down our pockets and no more dirty, filthy, tatty banknotes that had been touched by thousands before us either.

Instead, all transactions would be conducted cleanly, swiftly and electronically. And I remember my dear old Nan saying, “That’ll put the muggers out of a job” - and indeed it might have, only to be replaced by the far worse ‘online fraudsters’.

But now the future is the here and the now, only I’m not sure that it really works, are you? The rot started a few years back when telephone boxes stopped taking coins. Then the transport system introduced Oyster Cards and pre-paid tickets.

And now the mother of all cashless painsin-the-arse is upon us - the Credit Card parking metre. No longer can you feed a metre a few coins and be on your way. Oh no. And if you thought finding a parking space was the worst of your worries, then think again, because now not only do you have to find somewhere to park, but you also have to dial a number and speak into a computer with all of your details.

However, beware that Voice Recognition was not designed for us mere mortals (come to think of it, I’m not really sure who it was designed for) as it understands not a word of what you are saying.

So there I was, just last week, screaming my registration number into a machine that kept on saying: “Registration number not recognised” whilst all around me there seemed to be several other motorists all having exactly the same problem. So my

point is that these days, finding yourself a prized parking space is only half the battle.

Hey, and don’t think you can stay there either, because if ‘the computer says no’ you have got to move your vehicle, or face the prospect of your desired mode of transport being impounded.

The thing is, I am pretty useless on a computer. I can just about work my iPhone, but what about the elderly and the disabled?

They’re bound to struggle, aren’t they?

And what about the mute and the deaf?

They don’t stand a chance, do they? Yet all of this is a taste of what is certainly to come in the future as we sadly say goodbye to cash as it is fast becoming so very hard to spend.

What’s more, no longer will we be able to haggle with a salesman by saying, “How much for cash”?

For years I have had a night-time ritual of emptying the change from the bottom of my bag, otherwise hidden by numerous old receipts and half eaten toffee bars, into a jar. When the jar gets full I bag it up and take it to the bank to change up (into notes) and look forward to spending it on either clothes or shoes. But last time I tried to do this the cashier got very angry with me. She told me that there were now counting machines in most supermarkets where I could change my money up.

“Oh yes, there are,” I said, “but they take 10% of your money for doing so. That’s £10 in every £100, don’t you know, just for changing my money up.” Well, she informed me that my bank was not obliged to do likewise and that it was not a service they particularly offered.

The truth of the matter is that having cash keeps us from spending so much. If we blow £1,000 on a credit card we don't really notice it; it’s just a swipe of the plastic and the money we’ve just spent doesn’t automatically register (that, of course, happens when we receive our credit card statement). But taking a grand out of our pockets and handing it over is another matter entirely, because hard cash makes us think twice.

Call me a dinosaur, but I still think that ‘Cash is King’ and I do like to have a bit of it in my pocket.

COME IN NUMBER 7 YOUR TIME IS UP A calculator is now available on the NHS website that will assess when you are most likely to have a heart attack. Simply 5(1'weight, 2. #0.5%..#habits, (- $(2'$0 type in your your.30 eating and certain other bits of personal information, and up will pop a date when you can expect to have a heart attack.

I am a coward when it comes to operations and anything remotely involving blood. If I had to have any kind of surgery I reckon I would die of fright before it even happened. So do I want to know when I might have a heart attack? No, I most certainly don’t, because I’d be so scared in the run up to the date in question that if it didn’t happen I would spend every day thereafter expecting it to happen.

There are some things we just don’t need to know. Instead just live life every day as though it’s your last and that way, when the dreaded day comes, you won’t have any regrets. Well, that’s what I tell ‘Him Indoors’ when he tells me off for spending too much. Although I have to admit that I have put his data into the calculator and have upped his life insurance accordingly!

Tracie123@aol.com

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