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EDGE
the ISSUE NO: 294
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Alterrnatiivelly ourr Le Benaix@Home restaur restaurrant styl style Takeaw akeaway Menu is also available.
Le Benaix gardens
Alterrnati n ivelly our Le Bouchon@Home restaur resstaurrant style Takeaway Menu is also available.
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BEN NAIX AIIX BAR BAR & BRASSERIE LE BENAIX
LE BOUCHON @ THE HEYBRIDGE HOTEL HOTEL
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www w.brasseriebenaix.com .b www.brasseriebenaix.com
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AND This month, in it’s 25th year anniversary edition, The Edge pays tribute to ‘the fishwife’, and in particular to all of the fishwives of Essex, as nominated by themselves, or perhaps somewhat daringly, their husbands. So come on, ladies and gentlemen, get those photographs sent in and let’s be seeing a decent selection. More fishy stuff on the centre-spread.
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PRINCE ANDREW Tut, Prince Andrew, eh? Doesn’t he make you proud to be British? What a legend.
HELLO DOLLY The wife told me there was only 10 minutes left, so I settled down next to her on the sofa, like a patient lamb, with a beer. Well, the lying swine. A 4-pack later, I was going mad enough to (even) make my own tea.
100m SPRINT I’d like to see a 100m dash between Baptiste and Ryan (Charity’s son) of Emmerdale.
The Edge Editor’s Column MONDAY MORNING
We’re off to the annual Melton Mowbray Food Festival at the beginning of October and I’m very much looking forward to it, even though I’ve probably only ever eaten half-a-pork pie in my entire life. However, another thing I’m curious about is the surrounding countryside, which is supposed to be glorious, particularly on route to Nottingham. Meanwhile, the miniscule county of Rutland is just a little further south, but also sounds as though it will be well worth a gander.
NATIONAL FREE WILLS NETWORK We thought we’d have a bit of this, as the wills we’d made 20 years ago were somewhat out of date. It was free and incredibly simple to organise with Ellison’s Solicitors in New London Road and it makes you feel tidier and more organised for having sorted it out, as it was long overdue. We even discussed our funerals, which is never a nice thing to do, but as we basically don’t want any (as such), that was a doddle too.
SIXTH MASS EXTINCTION You must read what The Edge’s Silver Surfer has to say on page 24 this month too, as it’s shocking.
SEAN LOCK Such sad news. FFS, we got to grips with Covid-19. Why can’t we do the same where cancer’s concerned?
THE PERFECT REPOSTE It is now very common to hear people say: "I’m rather offended by that,” as if it gives them certain rights. But it is no more than a whine. It has no meaning. It has no purpose. It has no reason to be respected as a phrase. "I’m offended by that.” So f * cking what? (Attributed to Stephen Fry)
HEDGEHOG ALERT I’ll admit I’d had a few, only I swear I saw a hedgehog actually in our house the other Saturday evening, while I was watching Match of the Day. It was nonchalantly walking past our drinks cabinet as though it didn’t have a care in the world, or so it seemed to me. We have quite a big step outside of our bi-folds though, so how it managed to climb up that I’ll never know. But somehow it did! THE EDGE Chelmsford CM2 6XD 077 646 7 97 44 shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
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Imagine it’s a Monday morning. They’re never the best whatever the weather, are they? But also imagine it’s grey, wet and gloomy, and you’re dashing to get out of the house, only the toilet blocks up (yes, really). Which is never a pleasant task. Getting the old plunger out. Particularly first thing of a Monday morning (did I already mention it was a dour, nondescript, Monday sodding morning?). Only to make matters worse, we haven’t got a plunger, so my missus relies on a bit of teckers with the toilet brush in order to build up a bit of pressure around the ‘U’ bend and, quite naturally, she’s much better at it than me. ’Course, I got the blame. I frickin’ well get the blame for everything in our house. “Well you were in there last!” she reminded me. So it honestly wasn’t the best of starts to a brand new week, but we eventually got back to crystal clear waters, thank god, rather than thick brown soup... “Enough, Edge bloke. ENOUGH!”
MELTON MOWBRAY
RIB-EYE If you’d like to sample, in my own particular opinion, the best rib-eye I have ever tasted, turn to page 12...
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Sadly, tragically, probably not a lot. I was speaking to Mrs Edge about this and she said she used to take the centres out of unused toilet rolls if she needed them (“We had a lot of saggy loo rolls in our house”, what with her brother and sister also being fairly hands-on), not to mention squirting the contents out of half-empty Fairy Liquid containers, if she needed one of those in order to make a nuclear power station, or something. But are kids even into ‘making stuff’ these days? And who are their legends? Because trust The Edge, kids, John Noakes (holding the parrot stand) was a proper, bona fide ‘leg-end’ back in The Edge’s day, pulling off cunning stunts the likes of which even Bear Grylls would be proud of these days. (Kid’s voice: “Who?”)
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The Edge received an email, completely out of the blue, which read: “After enjoying reading your mag for many years, I figured the very least I could do was to offer to service your bicycle.” Well, you know me, readers. I didn’t need asking twice. Only Mrs Edge really wanted her chain cleaning too (all 50+ links of it), so I cheekily asked whether he’d be up for that as well. And, hey presto, the next thing you know, I’ve loaded up the wife’s Marin onto the back of my motor and dropped it off to Terry (he’s a private guy, so that’s all he wishes me to reveal about his identity) for him to get cracking on. Only do you know what, readers? Apparently I’ve been oiling my chain incorrectly all of my life. “She’ll have about 50 to 60 links on her chain, so they’ll all need cleaning and oiling in over 100 different points,” he told me. Whereas I’d always simply slapped the oil all over the chain, pretty much like when I’m salt & vinegaring a bag of chips. So hey, I guess it’s no wonder my own chain has always looked clogged up to buggery, particularly when viewed in profile (i.e. sideways on), as every bit of debris on the road obviously ends up sticking to the bloody thing whenever I go cycling by. Naturally Terry sorted out my Marin too (“They’re both built well,” he noted). We’ve actually had ’em for 26 years, from back in the days when Marin’s were built to last, I guess. Meanwhile, Terry’s retired, owns about 6 or 7 bikes (“for different types of weather”, apparently) and goes out cycling at least 5 days a week - every week, come rain or shine - sometimes doing over 100 miles at a time, and admits he’s “obsessed” with keeping fit, which is honestly no bad thing. He looks as fit as a fiddle and when I asked him if he ever stops off for a sandwich and a pint when he’s out doing his rounds, around about the half-way point, he simply shook his head and said, “No. But I might have a banana or an energy bar while I’m on the move.” I dunno, readers. I used to love doing the London - Brighton and the London - Cambridge with me old mucker Keith Rogers, and I still enjoy going out and doing between 30 - 40 miles. But Terry truly puts me to shame as he’s a lot more serious about it than I’ll ever be. However, one thing I wasn’t too happy about was when Terry confessed to wearing lycra whilst he is out ‘eating up the miles’, as opposed to a lovely salmon & cucumber sandwich. “Oh yes,” he said. To which I immediately thought, ‘Oh no!’
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Around two years ago, after extensive research, I decided to take the plunge and booked our first proper family beach holiday abroad. The destination of choice was Majorca and I managed to get a pretty good deal through execution of MI5 level precision planning and interrogation of the Easyjet website. Fast forward through the endless lockdowns of Coronapocalypse, and what felt like eleventy billion postponements, to August 2021. After receiving an email from our hotel advising us they would sadly not be opening, plus the general murmurings from the Boris camp about Spain going amber-plus, it served as a further reminder that Coronageddon was far from over, and once again our holiday seemed like a distant dream. A few days before we were due to travel, we received that all important announcement that Spain was to remain amber (with no quarantine requirements if you are double-vaccinated or under 12) and our hotel chain had offered to move us to alternative accommodation nearby. So we held our nerve in the face of the continuing uncertainty and started packing our cases.... If I thought researching and booking the holiday seemed complicated, this was nothing compared to keeping up with the constantly changing information regarding different Covid test requirements, forms, QR codes, vaccination certificates etc. But when it came to the crunch, it was actually really straightforward. Fortunately, no tests were required to enter Spain If you are fully vaccinated (or under 12). So we just needed 2 adult antigen tests on leaving Spain and 4 prebooked ‘Day 2 Tests’ to do upon our return in the UK. This does obviously add to the overall cost of your holiday, as tests which are thrown at people in their thousands across the UK for free now suddenly seem to warrant premiums of £35 and upwards per person. However, some holiday operators are using this to their advantage and are offering low cost test packages to tempt customers back to the package holiday market. Even as I threw the last few bottles of suncream into our cases, and checked my lists for the thousandth time, I still didn’t let myself believe it might go ahead. Driving to the airport I was convinced some sort of disaster was going to befall us, like a flat tyre, or extreme traffic, because this couldn’t actually be finally happening..... could it? I think my travel anxiety was further fuelled by traumatic memories of the first (and last) time we flew as a family back in 2019, where our 4 year old was practically strip searched at security, we waited 20 minutes for a couple of slices of toast, and were last to board our flight. During take-off, my 2 year old threw up all over him and me, and he had to subsequently enter the destination airport wearing nothing but a nappy until I could get spare clothes for him at baggage claim. In the furore, I left my brand new denim jacket in the
overhead locker and the airline denied all knowledge. Due to #jacketgate, our resort transfer left without us, and then when we finally made it to the resort we ate in a restaurant that tried to add someone else’s bill to ours, and I subsequently came down with a terrible ear infection that took weeks, and several courses of antibiotics, to shift. So you can probably understand my inner apprehension, even without the Covid related dramas. But surely, based on the law of averages, it had to be better this time. Didn’t it? Despite the weeks of uncertainty, and my ongoing internal nervous breakdown, we eventually boarded and our plane took off, touching down on the beautiful island of Majorca is just under 1 hour 55 mins. Less time, incidentally, than it takes us to drive to Yarmouth. Before we knew it, we were sat with a couple of cold ones overlooking the pool area, reveling in our rediscovery of the secret paradise someone somewhere has been trying to deny us all for so very long that I had almost forgotten it existed. And what an incredible ten days followed... The kids were in their element, being able to swim and play in the pool all day long, with no bookings required, no timed slots, and no over zealous rules about ludicrously large inflatables. We basked in the sun (finally a proper summer), the crystal clear sea, the stunning sunsets, eating al fresco every night, enjoying balmy evenings (and, it has to be said, some extremely hot, sweaty 30 degree evenings too). The kids swayed between wanting to play with us and running off to play with their newfound friends, which was obviously a bonus on one hand, but it was also a very strange feeling being surplus to requirements, which I guess is a sign of future things to come. When the hotel price up their cost margins for all inclusive buffet meals, I’m fairly certain they do not budget for 3 kids who eat like ours. It’s more than safe to say they got their money’s worth for not only themselves, but any other kid there who spent the week surviving on the minimum of bread rolls and chips. At one point our 6 year old actually brought a giant Greek watermelon from the fruit display back to our table for his ‘fruit course’. Fortunately the staff and other diners saw the funny side and said humongous watermelon was promptly removed and replaced with some dainty slices from the buffet, but I think that example more than illustrates his stalwart ambition and commitment to the cause. We took the kids on a day trip to the local water park which they all professed to be the best day ever. They absolutely loved the fast flumes, while a highlight for me was watching the ‘Legendary Dave’ chase his rubber ring down the lazy river. The entertainment in the hotel was pretty good too. The kids loved the mini-disco every evening, featuring the infamous Crazy Frog dance, and we even managed to win the bingo twice, much to the horror of all the northerners (who, it has to be said, appeared to take it way more seriously). The best show of the week was actually the worst, and is certainly something that will stay with me for the rest of my life. A Michael Jackson tribute by someone who did not sing, could not mime, and whose dancing was questionable. His equipment set-up, complete with giant projection screen, appeared impressive, until his video playback revealed everything was projected in mirror image back to front. This wasn’t too much of a problem until the final clip which should have read ‘This Is It’, and unfortunately projected as ‘It is Shit’, which was probably a far more accurate description. So now we are back home in good old Blighty, with the consistently dubious weather, the kids shouting at Alexa every evening to play the Crazy Frog song, and the video of Dave chasing his ring still giving me a laugh every time I watch it. Despite all my previous apprehension and anxiety, if I could get on another plane tomorrow, I absolutely would. But if travelling still isn’t for you right now, then that’s OK. However, if you are considering taking the plunge, but are feeling uncertain about the testing requirements and extra forms, then please don’t let this put you off. Take the plunge and treat yourself to a taste of the wider world again, because contrary to recent popular speculation, I can categorically confirm that it is most definitely still out there.
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NORTH OF THE BORDER I’m going to share a couple of trips with you this month, readers. Let’s start with a nostalgia trip back to Saturday afternoons in the sixties and seventies (once again, bang on point for EE’s preferred old git audience). This was back in the good old days when all football league matches, without exception, kicked-off at 3.00pm; long before fixture times were dictated by subscription TV companies. Back then all the results were reported in from about 4.40pm and Edge of the World travel correspondent. Embarks on were relayed to the eager TV audience via the teleprinter. Now occaassignments in a futile effort sionally, one team would go on a to preserve his sense of youth, goal frenzy at the expense of a always acknowledging that he ‘Won’t pass this way again’. beleaguered opposition and would register a seemingly incredulous score. On such occasions the convention was for the tally to be written in brackets, just to confirm that our eyes weren’t being deceived. So, for example, West Ham’s trouncing of Fulham on 3 February 1968 would have been reported thus: D1 WEST HAM UTD 7 (SEVEN) FULHAM 2 Fast forward to the summer of 2021 and I was all set for a trans-Atlantic trip to NYC and then a drive north through upstate New York and finally on to visit friends in Toronto. Plans thwarted, of course, by the prevailing pestilence. But hey, all was not lost, because I simply planned an alternative road trip up north - to Scotland. When you contemplate visiting Scotland, many people’s reaction is, “But why?” They’ll generally concede that the scenery is great, but they’ll counter this by saying things like, “You don’t visit Scotland for the weather, do you?” Such is Scotland’s reputation for inclement weather that the
Scottish tourist industry tries to make light of the fact that you’re nailed-on to encounter rain by trotting out slogans like: ‘Today’s rain is tomorrow’s whisky’. But I really love Scotland and I always enjoy visiting. And I’m not saying that simply because many of my wife’s family live in Glasgow. No, I love the scenery, the culture, the comfortable welcoming hotels, the architecture, the Scottish wit, the history; I even love the often-maligned national foods and drinks. I relish the opportunity to indulge in the best and worst on offer; cullen skink, tattie scones, black pudding, haggis, Arbroath smokies, deep-fried Mars bars, fish suppers, Irn-Bru, Empire biscuits, smoked salmon, Tennent’s lager, Tunnock’s tea cakes, Belhaven best, rough oatcakes, Lorne sausage and, best of all, the boundless variety of wonderful whiskies. Our latest visit - the second in the space of a year - coincided with the lifting of Covid restrictions in England, whereas in Scotland the life-preserving benefits of masking-up indoors were still mandated. Now, with the often-quoted statistic that the Scots have the lowest life expectancy in Western Europe, there’s a certain irony in a nation choosing to retain tighter Covid restrictions while its population has a notorious reputation for drinking, smoking and a very poor diet. Alas, the Scots have a better chance of winning the next World Cup than successfully embracing the concept of ‘five a day’ as a target for healthy eating. I don’t think costermongers ever prospered in Glasgow, while fruit bowls seldom feature on wedding lists. There’s arguably a case for a health warning being displayed as you cross the border. You get my drift? It was a holiday with plenty of variety. If you ever make the trip north of the border be sure to visit Dundee and take in the Discovery Point, the McManus galleries the V&A Design Museum. In Glasgow, The Pot Still on Hope Street is a must for whisky lovers. And if the great outdoors and exercise is your thing, then I would recommend an ascent of Ben Lui, a stroll along the deserted beaches of Dunnet Bay in the far north, or a bike ride along sublime Glen Strathfarrar. Distillery tours are often overpriced and somewhat routine, but the Glen Moray distillery, in Elgin, charged just £7 and that included sampling three whiskies. I could go on... The icing on the Empire biscuit was the unprecedented weather. We had sunshine for the duration of our eight-day tour and unbelievably I returned back to Blighty with a tan! It was truly ‘taps-aff’ weather in the local dialect and apparently SNP now stands for Scotia non pluvia. Ominously though, the weather scoreline should serve as a wake-up call to anyone in denial about the reality of the impending climate Armageddon. Apparently, since records began in 1737, this was the only instance of such an extended spell of warm, dry sunny weather in Scotland. Irrefutable evidence indeed that our climate is changing and that we’re spiralling rapidly towards the climate apocalypse. There are already mounting concerns for the wellbeing of the Loch Ness monster - it having obviously evolved to flourish in the dark icy depths of the loch - and the fear is that we’ll shortly witness a tragic scaled-up playing-out of the fable of the boiled frog culminating in Nessie’s pink bloated hulk finally floating to the surface of its tepid pond. SUNSHINE 8 (EIGHT) RAIN 0 wontpassthiswayagain@gmail.com
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For an afternoon (after we’d finished a couple of surveying jobs elsewhere in Kent) and evening in Margate, readers, as we were curious about the place after Jan of Chelmsford Refill (see page 3) had written about it in the recent July issues. And just check out the impressive shadow on the side of the Turner Contemporary Shed (hideous building) caused by the ‘bell end’ of the clock tower (below-right) at a particular time of the day. It is indeed a statement-and-a-half to The Edge’s mind, is that. And look what some artistic soul has done to help picturise the basic graffiti written by an idiot called Rob in the smallest gents in the world, next to the Micro Pub? Why, it’s almost as if they’ve turned the ‘R’ into a fish. How clever, what with the Turner Building being right next door. Having said that, we had a very decent four-to-five hours ‘on the pop’ in sunny Margate, followed by a Thai supper above the Wig & Pen, before going back to our room to watch another of Lurch’s ‘Big Tour Specials’, with Clarkson, Hammond & May, and eat some chocolate. Your typical middle-aged Boy’s Thursday night out, I think you call it.
shaun@theedgemag.co.uk www.theedgemag.co.uk
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WE ALSO REPAIR CARAVANS!
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If you haven’t visited Channels since its £1m total transformation, then you must. Seriously, it’s exquisite. The Edge was lucky enough to be invited along one recent Friday evening by general manager Katie Squire to sample the fayre, so in preparation, all I’d had to eat all day long was half-a-slice of toast. There was a certain anticipation, walking from the car-park, via the courtyard, along a newly paved path, until the all new Channels resplendently opens up in front of you. My wife hadn’t seen the transformation, so it was interesting to gauge her reaction as she took it all in. Safe to say, she was as bowled over by it all as I’d been, and I’m sure you will be too. Once seated, with a wonderful vista, I quickly ordered a pint of one of my favourite draught beers, Maltsmith IPA, with a Hendricks & Fever Tree for my good lady, as we perused the menu, which was just right for me, as I hate it when they go on and on and on... We started with the Crab Katsu (£8.25) and Coronation Pig’s Head (£7.95), not names that readily trip off the tongue, but they were perfect in size - not too big, not too small - and the way in which they were both presented and constructed. Together with their outstanding flavour, they immediately laid down a marker for what was to come. I couldn’t resist and ordered the 10oz Ribeye Steak (£25.95) for mains, served with a roast tomato, large mushroom, spinach and rustic chips, with a peppercorn sauce as an added extra (£2.50), while my aquarian loving wife opted for the Black Bream (£20.95) with heritage tomato, dashi beans, chicken skin bearnaise, girolles. A little tip: take heed the old adage ‘eyes bigger than your belly’ as though Mrs Edge initially wished she’d ordered a side of sauteed spinach (£4) which would have no doubt complimented her dish, by the time she’d helped me out with my exquisitely thrice cooked chunky chips, she ended up struggling to finish her mains. She gave me a mouthful - fortunately not of the ear-bashing variety - and of course her bream was delicious. However, let me go on record as saying that my rib-eye steak was the chunkiest, tastiest, melt-in-the-mouth slab of ribeye that I have ever tasted in my entire life.
“Let me go on record as saying that it was the chunkiest, tastiest, melt-in-the-mouth ribeye steak I have ever tasted in my entire life!” My god, it was almost a fillet! And the (large) mushroom - yay, let’s hear it for the mushroom and humble tomato - well, there was real taste to them both, whereas the chunky chips, OMG, were absolutely divine. You know, it gives you such a leap of faith when you have such high hopes for somewhere that are actually exceeded. By the time we’d both finished, I was honestly glad I’d only had that half-aslice of toast. There was but one chunky chip left in the pot that neither of us could tackle, even though I generally always clear my plate. But not this time, sunshine. So we lay back in our chairs, blew out our cheeks, and tried to get comfortable. Only we couldn’t. Fortunately, there was a spare low table with a couple of comfy chairs near to the bar, so we were repositioned and reclined as best we could, determined to at least share a dessert. However, even after 20 minutes, the most we dare take on was a single scoop of ice-cream apiece (for £2 a pop); peanut butter for Mrs Edge and strawberry & yuzu for moi. And that was us completely and utterly done, mullered, sated. Thing is though, you really don’t have to go the whole hog at Channels and make a pig of yourself. For instance, quite a few house burgers (served in brioche baps) and fries (£15.25) were leaving the kitchen and they looked truly awesome. However, what we’re looking forward to in the immediate future - oh yes, we’ll be going back again and again as paying customers - is a Channels Full English (£9.50) out on their amazing patio, after doing a 1 hour loop cycle to get there. Or you could opt for their Pancakes Packed with Protein (£7.95), Welsh Rarebit (£8.25) or Smoked Salmon & Scrambled Eggs (£7.75) to name but three delicious alternatives. Oh and perhaps with a Bloody Mary on the side (£7.95)? This is the all new Channels....and it’s a game changer.
7 DAY FREE TRIAL!
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(Behind C&C Autos) The Edge 077 646 797 44
The Edge September(688) 2021/08/31 18:21:05
Jazzy Sunday
(1:30-2:30pm & 3:30-4:30pm) 12th Sept | 10th Oct | 14th Nov | 12th Dec
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Squire & Smith Emma Cummins The Peppermint Apes Squire & Smith
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Book online at:
www.channelsestate.co.uk Tel: 01245 440 005 Channels, Pratts Farm Lane East, Little Waltham, Chelmsford CM3 3PT (Entrance by the Park & Ride)
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ther he got from solving it. For example, for some reason my missing film purchases were now showing in my wife’s library and on her purchase history, as are some of my daughters. I'd also been double-charged for music I'd purchased 7 years ago. The more I showed him (via a link he sent me so that he could see my telephone screen and contents), the more confused he got and the more my life was flashing by and had me wishing I hadn't bothered even trying to sort it out in the first place.
POLIT INCO ICALLY RREC T
Three weeks and multiple web appointments later I'm still no closer to finding out what's happened, or why.
SUPERBOY SAYS...
CUSTOMER SERVICE HELPLINE They really need to take the 'help' part off, don’t you think? This past couple of weeks I've spent more time trying to sort out problems for things I've ordered and paid for than enjoying the service that should be provided.
...I STILL WEAR A NAPPY, JUST TO BE ON THE SAFE SIDE.
*
My first issue was with Apple. Last year I opted for the family package for Apple music, meaning all three of us can stream/save our own playlists etc for £15 a month, rather than my wife, daughter and I paying £9.99 each for individual subscriptions. For a long period, there were no problems. Until I went to my Apple movie library and suddenly about ten films I'd previously bought had disappeared and were no longer showing in my purchase history either, for me to be able to conveniently reload at my leisure. So after going round and round in circles on the 'help' page for about two hours (yes, really), I eventually got a number I could ring and explain my situation to someone . After pressing 1 for about twenty times and shouting ‘YES’ or ‘NO’ to pre-recorded questions for an age, I finally got to speak to a human being. However, the signal at their end was so bad the call got cut off as I was in full swing.
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As you can imagine, by now I was in full on Basil Fawlty mode, so I decided to walk away, make a coffee and try again once I was calmer. Approximately 4 hours later from the time I began this whole sorry process I eventually got through to a very polite man in India (he told me this after I asked why he needed to know what time it was in the UK) who attempted to assist me in resolving my problem. But as he dug deeper and deeper into the mystery, the fur-
To top it off, I received a message from an eBay customer informing me that an item of vintage clothing I'd sold him and posted to his residential home in Germany back in July has never been delivered, as It seems Royal Mail or DHL (Royal Mail’s German partner) have cocked something up and lost it. So once again I'm now wasting my time back on a (non) help page, trying to get answers. Yet after filling in multiple questionaires online, ticking boxes, answering yet more questions and eventually submitting a claim, I get told I can't make a claim as it hasn't been a long enough duration of time to warrant such. OK, fair enough, Mr Royal Mail automated computer machine thing-a-ma-jobby. In that case, give me an answer, or point me in the right direction as to where my bloody parcel might be, so that I don't have to make a claim and I can get on with my life. Honestly, it's like they just want to make it as absolutely hard as possible so you give up, they get away with it, and I end up out of pocket. I think Joe Pesci's character Leo Getz ("Whatever you want, Leo gets. Get it?") in the Lethal Weapon films is spot-on when he says, after receiving the wrong order at a Drive-Thru: "They f@ck you at the drive-thru, okay? They f@ck you at the drivethru. Because they know you're gonna be miles away before you find out you got f@cked! They know you're not gonna turn around and go back, but they don't care. So who gets f@cked? Ol' Leo Getz!" So if any of you have any answers as to not getting f@cked by companies, kindly drop me a postcard. Just DON’T send it via Royal Mail. All the best, G.P. x
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A fishwife, fish-fag or fishlass is a woman who not only sells fish, but also smells a bit like herring, especially during soaring temperatures when she’s proper kicking-up. Not sure whether it’s still the case in places like Cornwall, Devon and Grimsby, but often the wives and daughters of fishermen are notoriously loud and foul-mouthed, as noted by the expression ‘swears like a fishwife’ (and smells a bit like one too). Which begs the question, why is it also true of many an Essex man’s missus, particularly when we haven’t got much of a coastline to brag about? However, in the context of fishwife, the ‘wife’ part actually means woman, as opposed to spouse, which is (ever so slightly) interesting.
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Fishwives were also noted for their beauty, hardiness and industry, so rather than being a put-down, for a man to refer to a lass as a fishwife is actually a bit of a compliment. Often they would wear dufflecoats in winter and carry fish of their backs in creels. Perhaps the main reason for their ‘outspokenness’, particularly in times gone by, is probably due to the nature of their business, in so far as their wares were highly perishable and they would have to ‘go without’ if they weren’t sold quickly. London’s traditional fish market, Billingsgate, was often frequented by such lasses, who dressed in strong ‘stuff’ gowns and quilted petticoats, whilst their hair was often flattened to their heads in an indistinguishable mass beneath a cap or a bonnet. They smoked/smerked small pipes of tobacco (just like the Essex lasses of today), took snuff, drank gin (minus the tonic and lemon) and were often known for their ‘colourful’ language. In the 18th century, an entire fleet of Billingsgate fishwives were said to have sailed across the Channel to terrorise the French (yes, both men and women alike), so no change there then. So now you see that it’s really a backhanded compliment for a lady to be referred to as a fishwife, or a trout for that matter.
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Hello Readers.
This months column is brought to you from the sunny Algarve. At this precise moment I am sat in a beach bar on Gale Beach, Albufeira, watching the sun go down into the Atlantic ocean. I’ll let you know when it has disappeared from view.
DEAKS
This is my first visit to www.casabonitavilla.com in 16 months, thanks to the bastard that is Covid-19. I normally spend a couple of months a year here, but not in 2020, or it seems in 2021. I won’t lie, I was worried that my home might no longer still be perched on the edge of a cliff. You hear so many horror stories of homes sliding over the edge, don’t you? The developers assured me it was built on solid rock when I bought it in 2004 and so far, so good, I’m relieved to report.
A friend of mine owned a home on the Isle of Wight for 25 years and when he bought it in the late sixties it was 100 yards (for the younger readers, that was like a metre, but slightly shorter, back in the olden days) from the edge of a cliff. Every year the cliff edge got closer and closer until one weekend, all his family went over there, on the advise of his neighbour, soon to become homeless himself, to watch their beloved holiday home fall off the cliff. I said to him, “Weren’t you upset?” He told me no, because he only paid £4,500 for it in 1968 and he and his family had wonderful holidays there for 25 years. Which is definitely the way to look at it, although I’m not so sure I would feel the same way. Portugal is a beautiful country full of beautiful people. I fell in love with it in the late 1990’s and I hope my kids do too, so that Casa Bonita continues to give my family joy long after I am gone. There she goes. The blazing sun has just plopped into the sea. It will rise again in the morning directly in front of my patio, if I can face getting up at 06.20am to see it. Which will largely depend on whether we order another bottle of wine. (We did!) Talking of wine, I have a famous neighbour living close to me in Albufeira who is Sir Cliff Richard, no less. He has a beautiful vineyard close by that you can visit if you pre-book and
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the wine, Vida Nova, is excellent. I’ve met him a few times and on the most recent occasion I asked him to sign a ‘get well soon’ card for my mum, who was a massive Cliff fan, and who had broken her hip in a fall. He wrote: “I hear you’ve broken your pelvis, just like Elvis. Get well soon. Best wishes, Cliff Richard.” He’s a thoroughly nice man and it was at the time of those disgusting allegations being made about him, but he still had time to speak to people who approached him in the restaurant. The other famous neighbour I have is Bonnie Tyler. I bumped into her in town one day and I asked if I could buy her a coffee. She declined. I said, “Oh go on, Bonnie. Just a quick Costa?” To which she declined again. So I said, “How about a Starbucks?” She said, “No, really. I don’t want a coffee with you. Please leave me alone.” So I said, “I know what you’re doing. You’re holding out for a Nero, aren’t you?” Just kidding. But she does live close by and I met her once and she was lovely. Oh and Gloria Hunniford’s a neighbour too. She’s great pals with Cliff and me and my sons met her in a restaurant by the sea once, when they were little, and asked her to sign a menu for their mum. Thing is, at that age, I don’t even think they knew who Gloria Hunniford even was! Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m somewhat of a friend to the rich and famous, aren’t you? Well, you’d be right, as Ringo Starr once told me to “feck off” in the street. I saw him walking along Savile Row in London about 30 years ago, with his beautiful wife, Barbara Bach. A young girl approached him for an autograph and he happily signed it for her. So I went up to him and asked for an autograph too. He replied “I don’t sign autographs in the street.” So I whined, “But you just signed one for that girl.” And he said in his thick scouse accent, “Well, if you’re going to be persistent, give it here.” So he signed and then said, “Now feck off.” Ringo and I have remained friends ever since. Not! To be fair, it was shortly after John Lennon was shot in New York, so I guess you couldn’t blame him. Which got me to thinking about all of the A-Listers I have met during my time. Off the top of my head, in addition to the above, I can lay claim to Princes Diana, along with a very young Prince William and Prince Harry, Sugar Ray Leonard - the world’s greatest boxer, William Shatner - Captain Kirk, no less, and Pamela Anderson, she of the famous red swimsuit and big boobies. I have also met Sir Michael Caine, Sir Ian Botham, Frank Bruno, Mike Reid, Ross Kemp, Viv Anderson and Jimmy Bullard, plus several West Ham legends including Sir Geoff Hurst, Martin Peters, Phil Parkes, James Collins and Tony Cottee, not to mention a few F1 greats including Sir Frank Williams, Jean Todt, Damien Hill and Johnny Herbert. I also worked with Rob Andrew at Coughdrop Bollock & Bellend before Rugby Union went professional. It’s hard to believe that all the Rugby Union players had full-time jobs, isn’t it? I can’t claim that any of them would remember me, except perhaps Tony Cottee, who I’ve met a fair few times at West Ham and on a couple of flights both to and from Portugal when he was with his golfing pals. The last time I saw him was a few years ago. He was sat behind me on a flight back to Southend and we clocked each other and he spoke first and said, “Hello, mate.” I wanted to reply, “Sorry, do I know you?” Only I bottled it. But he’s a proper nice bloke, is Tony Cottee, and a true West Ham ‘sort’. That’s not a bad list, I suppose. But it’s nothing compared to my mate Ken’s brother Eddie, who has amassed over one thousand autographs and more than 700 photographs of himself with famous faces. I asked him to name his top 5 and he came back with Frank Sinatra, Michael Jackson, Muhammad Ali, Paul McCartney and George Harrison. He also has my mate Ringo Starr’s autograph, though presumably he never asked him for that whilst out in the street. Since I’m writing this column in Portugal, let’s stay with travel, shall we? Here’s a thing; my flight to Faro with RyanAir from Stansted Airport cost £9.99 each way, as I travel light. My taxi to the airport cost £50 each way and my Covid tests in the UK cost £99 as I needed one before I flew out and another one upon my return, yet they cost just 22 euros in Portugal. So I ended up spending £200 on Covid tests, £100 for a return taxi and a little under £20 to travel 2,000 miles on an airplane to a different country. The world has gone mad. You can also get a Covid test done in almost any pharmacy in Portugal, whilst the cost of a test in Poland, where I was a couple of months ago, is just £9. Yet in the UK we pay a minimum of £99 (at the time of writing). S’truth, why do we put up with RIP OFF BRITAIN? I actually hesitated to mention the above, because I mentioned the same on a neighbourhood group app called NextDoor and a few of the folk took exception to the fact that I went on holiday during the pandemic. The hate genuinely surprised me.
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I also mentioned to you about my world crashing around my feet 5-6 years ago in my August Edge column, didn’t I, which you can read at http://theedgemag.co.uk/blog/ if you are inclined, and I have to confess that The Edge Editor has been nagging me to write about it ever since I first wrote in this mag back in July 2019. Yet every month I promise him that I will get around to it, but I always seem to come up with other stuff that I want to share with you first. Only this month I feel I cannot keep it from you any longer, so……oh dear, I’ve run out of space. I’m so sorry. Maybe next month then? Although to be honest, it’s not something I like to talk about with strangers, although I feel I know you all well enough now, so at last it’s perhaps time to share my story beyond Coughdrop Bollock & Bellend. And on that absolute cliffhanger, I must bid you a wonderful September. I hope you all stay safe and well and that Covid really is on the retreat, which would be nice.
TTFN, Deaks. Email: gmdeakin@gmail.com Instagram: gmdeakin The Edge 077 646 797 44
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CUSTOMER SERVICE
FREEDOM DAY
Has anyone else noticed a significant deterioration in customer service following the pandemic? Every number I call recently starts with the message: “We are experiencing exceedingly high call volumes at the moment...” which makes me wonder whether Covid is now just an excuse for poor service?
I think we are all pleased that so called ‘Freedom Day’ has eventually brought an end to all Coronavirus restrictions and we will hopefully see life get back to ‘normal’. This is something many of us have been looking forward to for an exceedingly long time, but I do question the timing.
I understand doctors surgeries might be busier than usual, but I was on hold to my motorbike insurers for 25 minutes the other day. If anything, I would have thought they would have had much less to deal with, given the reduced traffic on the roads at the moment? I get that when we all started working from home things were a little bit difficult, but in the past 16 months, surely there has been time for things to improve? I honestly think we are heading for that day that we all expected, after watching Terminator and Robocop, where every part of our lives involves robotic transactions. Personally, I wouldn’t mind that, so long as it’s efficient. Whereas where we’re at right now is sitting on a telephone line pressing 1’s and 2’s for 20 minutes before finally getting through to someone who can’t help us which is infuriating.
Whatever side of the fence you are on in terms of the Covid-19 response, you must surely agree that a few more months of caution would be sensible right now, rather than yet another full blown lockdown this winter?
The fact is, we have had well over a year of following guidelines that haven’t really made a great deal of sense, not to mention having the living daylights scared out of us by news about just how deadly Coronavirus is, only for all restrictions to be lifted in a kind of a ‘Big Bang.’ Freedom Day also came at a time where infection rates were actually going up, along with new variants aplenty and a large proportion of the population remaining unvaccinated. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely do want the world to open up again, but it makes me question more than ever why we ever had the restrictions in the first place. Because we will now go into a winter that will see no restrictions or safeguards whatsoever, an increase in seasonal flu cases, plus new Covid variants. So does Boris really expect us to believe him when he says this roadmap
You wouldn’t think this would warrant a mention, but it does, I guess because people are creatures of habit. Where you can pick up a copy of The Edge from Sainsbury’s there’s now a new, larger dispenser IMMEDIATELY IN FRONT OF YOU as you depart the store (please see above). It’s not positioned ‘to the side’ any more. We’re done with Covid at long last (hopefully), so you’re no longer forced to enter Saino’s a certain way and depart through one set of doors only. You’ve now got a choice (remember what choice is?) of entrances and exits and you can even if you’re FEELING REALLY CRAZY & PSYCHEDELIC - exit the store through the same set of doors as those which you entered. OK, so that may give you a bit of a rush of blood to the head, but the option’s there for those that want to live their lives on a knife-edge. Appreciate it’s “a little bit wurrrr, a little bit weee”, as Paul Whitehouse used to say on the Fast Show, but try it, you might like it. Anyway, I’m simply bringing this to your attention as it took longer to shift the same amount of mags at Saino’s last month than it normally does. So PLEASE TAKE NOTE those of you who missed out on a copy.
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will be irreversible?
I 100% want out, but I am prepared to do it sensibly in order to stop once and for all this hokey cokey approach of in/out, in/out.
GLOBAL WARMING There I was, thinking that if I kept using aerosol deodorant there would be a massive hole in the ozone layer, causing us all to live in 30 degree heat in the UK.
Seriously though, what a terrible ‘summer’ we’ve had so far. It has rained almost every day and the sun has been limited to about a week in total, which is so very depressing after a long, cold winter spent entirely at home, with the only prospect of a getaway, as things stand, being to soggy Cornwall. So let’s all keep our fingers crossed for a true Indian Summer in September (and not just their Covid variant).
But by the looks of the way our summer ‘s turned out so far, I think we all might need to ditch our roll-on anti-perspirants and get back to doing things that might actually heat the planet up.
Friday 13th August - Sad news reaches The Edge that the Empire Palace Chinese Restaurant in Springfield Road, near the junction of Victoria Road, will be closing its doors for good on Sunday 5th September. After all these years, who hasn’t visited ‘The Empire’ since it first opened its doors in 1968? But after 53 years of serving the good folk of Chelmsford, Tommy and his team - and, tragically, his magnificent spare ribs (OMG, those ribs were to die for) - are calling it a day. Which is such a shame and such a loss as The Edge is of the opinion that ‘those ribs’ have probably achieved legendary status in our fair lil town. The Sitar, a little ways up the road, has already closed, so this is yet another sad loss for the city. But after the landlord put The Empire’s rent up, it was enough to make the business unviable. Such tragic news, but hey, no doubt another block of flats to look forward to. So good luck, Tommy, who we understand is returning to Hong Kong.
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ONLY JOKING! GUYS LIKE YOU
I smiled at a lady in a pub. She smiled back. I asked if I could buy her a drink? "Have you not got a girlfriend?” she asked. "Because guys like you always have girlfriends in my experience,” she said. "No. We split up a month ago,” I said. "Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. "Go on then, I’ll have a glass of white wine, please.” A few drinks later we were kissing and cuddling and we ended up back at her place where we made hot, passionate love. A couple of hours later, I’m pulling my clothes back on, and she says, "So, you’re good looking, good company, and really great in bed. So can I ask why you split up with your girlfriend?” “Sure,” I replied. "My wife found out.”
CRUSH I think my therapist has a crush on me. I mean, why else would she want to see me three times a week without fail?
SORRY Me (sobbing my heart out, eyes swollen, nose all red): "I’m sorry, but I can’t see you anymore. I’m not going to let you hurt me like that again. I’m not.” Personal Trainer: "FFS, man up. It was a sit-up. You’ve done one f cking sit up.”
*
MEN Men are like fine wine. They all start out like grapes, so it's a lass’s job to separate them from the bunch, stomp on them a bit, then keep them in the dark until they can mature into something you wouldn’t mind sharing a diner-table with.
‘THE ONE’ "Babe, can you get me a screwdriver?” I called from beneath the kitchen sink. "Sure. Flat head, Phillips or vodka?” she called back. And it was at that pivotal moment during our fledgling relationship when I first realised that she had to be the one.
KENYA In 1993, a man was holidaying in Kenya after graduating from university. On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised off the ground. The elephant seemed distressed, so he approached it very carefully, got down on one knee, inspected the elephant’s foot, and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it. As carefully and as gently as he could, he worked the wood free with his penknife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot. The elephant then faced the man and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments as the man stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but potentially being trampled upon. But eventually, as though gratefully satisfied, the elephant trumpeted loudly before turning and walking away. He never forgot that elephant, or the events of that particular day. Fast forward to 2021 and the very same man was strolling around Colchester Zoo with his teenage son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to where he and his son were standing. The large bull elephant stared deeply into the man’s eyes, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down again. The elephant did this several times before trumpeting loudly. Distinctly remembering the encounter in Kenya back in ‘93, the man could not help wondering if this was the very same elephant. So he summoned up all his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure before walking right up to the elephant, which trumpeted loudly, before wrapping its trunk around the man’s waist and slamming him head first into the ground, killing him instantly. Different elephant.
LEFTOVER PIZZA Someone told me leftover pizza tastes great cold the next day. You what? Leftover pizza? What’s that when it’s at home?
SEX DREAM Bloke (grumbling): "Bloody alarm clock...waking me up just before the grand finale of a sex dream.”. Missus (mumbling): "Welcome to my world.”
DRUNK DRIVER Officer: “License and registration, please. I think you are drunk driving.” Man: “I assure you, officer, I have not had anything to drink today. Nor yesterday, come to that.” Officer: “Okay, let’s do a little test. Imagine you are driving in the dark on a motorway at night, when you see two lights coming towards you in the distance. What is it?” Man: “A car, most probably.” Officer: ”Of course it is! But which one? A Mercedes? An Audi? A Ford?” Mean: ”How the hell should I know?” Officer: ”Correct. So you’re drunk!” Man: ”But I told you, I haven’t drunk anything.” Officer: ”Okay, one more test. Imagine you are driving in the dark on a motorway at night and there is one light coming towards you.What is it? Me: ”A motorcycle, most probably.” Officer: “But which one? A Honda? A Kawasaki? Or maybe even a Harley?” Me: ”How the hell should I know? Officer: ”As I suspected. You’re drunk!”
Man (starting to get annoyed): ”This is ridiculous. Supposing you are driving in the dark on a motorway at night and you see a woman on the hard-shoulder wearing a mini skirt, fishnet stockings, high heels and only a bra for a top. What do you make of the situation?” Officer: ”Well, she’s a prostitute, of course.” Me: ”Yes, but which one? Your daughter? Your wife? Maybe even your mother?” At this point, things went downhill rapidly and the suspected drunk driver was carted off to the cells and given a right good beating.
ARGUING There are two ways of arguing with my missus, but neither of them seem to work.
ALEXA I was planning a trip to Aldeburgh, so I asked Alexa what the weather was going to be like at the weekend. She said "Why? Where the f ck do you think * you’re going?”
FACEBOOK FOLLOWERS I wish I could mate with my hundreds of Facecock followers. Damnit, autocorrect. I mean meet.
BEST MATE I’m sure my best mate’s having an affair with my missus, as he’s been proper miserable of late.
GETTING OLDER Weird how the things you hated so much as a child don’t seem half so bad as you get older. Like taking naps and being spanked.
SOUND ADVICE Look, I’m just saying that if your missus is mowing the lawn, it might be better to leave it for a few minutes before asking what’s for dinner.
BREAKING NEWS Due to the latest round of panic buying, Aldi have opened till three.
REALISTIC TV ADVERT Just for once, I'd like to see a realistic tampon advert on TV. You know, one with a woman sobbing herself to sleep with a half-chewed Mars bar hanging out of her slack mouth.
TRAFFIC CONES Apparently those orange and white traffic cones that they position outside junior school drop off points are not to test your racing slalom skills and agility.
PORK PIES The school rang today to tell me my son had been telling fibs. I told them he must be pretty good at it, as I don’t even have a son.
All jokes published are supplied by Edge readers. Please send your ‘egg yokes’ to shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
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Apparently, Reading West has been voted ‘Top of the Service Stations’, only The Edge thinks someone must be having a larf. As a matter of coincidence, The Edge stopped off at them twice (the second time was a mistake) over the course of two consecutive months recently, yet wasn’t impressed at all, at all, at all. Firstly, there’s a lank haired bloke running the Costa canteen pretty much singlehandedly (he seems to do everything on his own) and it takes an absolute age to get a brew. However, secondly, and far more importantly, The Edge doesn’t like the design of the crappers one iota.
For starters, the loo lid needs to be released by some sort of a strange clasp positioned beneath the very front of the seat, which I struggled to figure out. Oh, and how many fingers have previously touched it? Secondly though, horror of horrors, once lifted, it covers the button-flush, therefore negating the polite and responsible ‘courtesy flush’. OMG, what a ghastly design. No courtesy flush? This fact alone puts Reading West way back into the dark ages? However, once you do close the lid, The Edge is of the opinion that not only does your waste get powerfully sucked away, but the toilet seat may probably get a rinse too. But dear oh dear, what of that grubby clasp?
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Imagine, if you can, that the year is 1790 and you’re a buffalo quietly eating grass on the great plains of the US and all you can see for miles are buffalo, when the guy alongside you says, “I had a terrible dream last night. I dreamt a hundred years from now there will be none of us left in this quiet and peaceful land.” Rubbish, you think. Nothing much can ever change. Yes, there are too many of us, but there’s plenty of food to go around. WRONG - WRONG - WRONG! As early as 1890, buffalo numbers had dropped from an estimated 30-60million to just 500. Is that what you call an extinction even, or what? However, dear readers, that’s exactly what we’re facing. Oh sure, an extinction event is defined as a ‘widespread and rapid loss of greater than 75% of the planet’s biodiversity in a short space of time’ (geologically speaking, that is). But once started it becomes irreversible. Only it’s not just about the abnormal weather conditions we’ve been seeing. Of course, they don’t help, but all of the other changes we’ve chosen to ignore, such as ocean warming, the melting permafrost, polluted rivers, the progressive loss of wildlife, the Amazon Rainforest now producing more CO2 than oxygen, and yes, the rapidly increasing loss of bio-diversity. You might think there’s plenty of time to reverse all of this. After all, look at all the world meetings going on discussing just such problems, the likes of COP26 (the 2021 United Nations Climate Change Conference being held in Glasgow later on this year) when yet again they’ll pledge a worldwide Net Zero Carbon by 2040 - only try telling that to China, who uses coal derived energy in over 60% of its power stations, closely followed by India, USA, Japan and Russia - oh and don’t forget Indonesia, a country so polluted you can actually walk across their plastic filled rivers. So come on, do you really think this can be reversed? “Don’t worry about the Amazon,” (we’re told by Jair Bolsonaro, the Brazilian President), “there are plenty of other oxygen producing rainforests left.” Oh no there ain’t! it’s not for nothing that the Amazon Rainforest is called ‘The Lungs of the World’ producing 20% of the planet’s total oxygen supply, with the oceans’ plankton producing the remaining 80% - yes, the very same oceans we are warming, thus becoming acidic and slowly killing off their bio-diverse inhabitants. Such a process, once started, is unstoppable. As the planet warms, the permafrost melts, releasing huge - and I do mean huge -
amounts of CO2 and methane into the atmosphere, which continues the global warming process and will only worsen the changes in our climate patterns that we’re now seeing on a regular basis. Then add to the mixture our cramped living conditions and international travel and we’ll be seeing pandemics (oh, I forgot, we’re already in one), mass migrations and food shortages that will all become exacerbated. Let me quote from Joyce Msuya, Assistant UN Secretary-General and Deputy Executive Director of its environment programme, who stated on 26th June: "While the climate crisis, together with bio-diversity loss and pollution, has indeed been underway for decades, the pandemic has brought this triple planetary crisis into sharp focus.” In the last 100 years global temperature has risen by one degree while sea levels have risen by 16cm, but it is feared that between now and 2050 the global temperature may rise by an additional 1.5 degrees and sea levels by a further 30cm. Yet what are we doing about it? Not nearly enough. Aside from the issue of coal-fired power stations, by 2040 China will only achieves 40% electrification of its cars and whilst the US will eventually achieve this ‘magic 40%‘ by 2035, it is all way too little too late and leaves us with less than 20 years to try to slow down both global warming and rising sea levels. Meanwhile, the deforestation of the rainforests continues, as does the dumping of plastics and pollutants in our rivers and oceans, which carry on unchecked. What has to happen is that we ALL need to change our habits and behaviour and suffer short term pain for long term gain (for the planet’s sake, at least). Whilst the spirit is (probably) willing, our participation is less so, with only 40% of the UK population (there it is again - the ‘magic 40%‘) actively doing something to change their carbon footprint behaviour. This time around, the sixth Mass Extinction may actually take less than 60,000 years - which is A GEOLOGICAL HEARTBEAT. The Edge 01245 348256
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N
ow that we have taken that leap of faith and are considering traveling from 2022 onwards, many of us will turn towards the likes of social media for our travel inspiration. As for me, I can take one look at a destination and create the most memorable and immersive itinerary for you, before bringing it to real life, as if by magic! Here are some truly incredible places to visit:1. If I said to you “middle of the earth, Amazon rainforest hotel, up in the clouds and blue-footed booby”, where would you guess? Quito is known to be the ‘middle of the earth’ and is also the capital of Ecuador. Here you must stay at the Mashpi Lodge where you can truly immerse yourself in the Amazon Rainforest. Hop on board a cruise and discover a unique ecosystem on the Galapagos Islands and see animals that can only be found there. 2. Keep up with your fitness and ascend Mount Kilimanjaro, before descending onto the mainland of Tanzania and having an up-front wildlife encounter at the Serengeti National Park from your very own tent with a view. After a thrill-seeking LandRover Jeep Safari, jet off to White Sands Luxury Villas & Spa nestled on the east coast of Zanzibar. 3. With so many endangered wildlife species in the world, why not spend some time in Sepliok Nature Reserve in Borneo. Here the last wild Orangutangs can be found hanging upside down in trees. Then head over to the Langkawi Ritz Carlton, make a wish on a stone and place it in the magical fountain, before hiking in the rainforest in search of an enchanting waterfall. 4. I am obsessed with the Street Food series on Netflix! Singapore has been a major place of food culture with even a few Michelin star street food vendors and innovation like the Sky Gardens and Marina Bay Sands. Leaving the hustle and bustle of the city behind, you can hop over to Bali for a captivating experience in the Ubud Forest, staying at the Hanging Gardens. 5. Would you believe me if I told you there is a timeline on earth where you could have one foot in tomorrow whilst having your other foot in yesterday? With over 300 islands making up Fiji you are bound to have an experience of a lifetime. Likkulikku Lagoon Resort is a wilderness island retreat, offering you an authentic ancient village vibe above clear blues azure waters. 6. You have heard of Utah in cowboy movies, yes? The wild, wild west, where gigantic red rocks stand in a desert sun near the Colorado Canyon. Well, if you are ever on a road trip in the USA, you must stop off at Camp Sarika for a true encounter with the wilderness. And for all you daredevils out there, you must also explore the ‘Staircase Across The Sky’. 7. With a culture full of tradition, colour, spice, music and dance, India is not for the faint hearted, due to such a vast land to explore in the humidity. The Taj Lake Palace in Udaipur sets the bar high for royalty experiences around the world. Over-water villas have been trending for a while now, so how about taking it up a notch with an over-water palace? 8. You have heard the word luxury, but have you ever heard of wild luxury? Meet your inner animal at the Clayoquot Wilderness Retreat on Vancouver Island, Canada. This UNESCO site was home to the first nation 2000 years ago and is now a cultural heritage site. It is truly the most unspoilt beauty in the world, filled with fjords, hidden water holes and much, much more nature-based adventure. So there we are! That rounds up my ‘bucket list’ which should hopefully have you buzzing with excitement. But this is just a snippet of the types of exclusive itineraries I can tailor-make especially for you, with the confidence of giving you the very best experiences of a lifetime. Luxury is not only about the price tag, as we all define it differently. There are always numerous options and price-tags to consider. So why not get in touch?
The silly season continues apace in cinemas as the big popcorn blockbusters vie for our attention on the big screen, but can anything ‘outdumb’ Fast & Furious 9, or are there some cinema smarts hidden under the colourful veneer of the latest CGI spectacles?
Jungle Cruise First out of the gate is Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson’s latest Jungle Cruise, based loosely upon Disney’s long running (but really not so good) theme park ride. After Pirates of the Caribbean had such massive success, it makes sense that Disney would eye up their other rides for movie franchise possibilities. On paper, a narratively driven ride down a jungle themed river, featuring encounters with mechanical wildlife, whilst having your tour guide spout endless one liners, makes for a better choice than, say, Goofy's Barnstormer Coaster. But it’s still a flimsy basis for a feature length movie and ultimately we end up with something that isn’t really a movie at all, but, well…a theme park ride. So much so that the only way to warrant watching this is to see it on a 4DX screen, if you can. If you haven’t tried 4DX, it uses the same technology as actual theme parks rides, such as the old Honey I Shrunk The Audience, with moving chairs, water effects and wind turbines. Jungle Cruise and 4DX then becomes a match made in heaven. A theme park ride turned into film that turns back into a theme park ride! Very meta. Whether it’s racing down the rapids or evading torpedoes launched by a maniacal Nazi, it’s just a whole lot of silly fun as you are thrown around in your seat and sprayed with water jets etc. Take that away though and you are left with a hollow, cheap looking and often nonsensical cash grab that even the combined star power of ‘The Rock’ and Emily Blunt struggle to salvage.
The Suicide Squad Next up we have a $185 million dollar budgeted superhero flick that is destined to become one of Hollywood’s biggest box office flops, despite the fact that it is actually a very good film. (Unfortunately, like other movies to follow, this hit release date as America began to panic over the Delta Variant and closed up shop yet again.) The Suicide Squad is a
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sequel/reboot to 2016’s muchderided Suicide Squad (‘The’ presumably making this the definite article), a movie that was infamously edited beyond recognition by the studio shortly before release, resulting in a true car-crash of a film that despite making a lot of money absolutely nobody liked. But in their wisdom, Warner Bros. obviously believed the franchise had sequel potential and in a bold move recruited filmmaker James Gunn, who had just been fired by Disney for past offensive tweets resurfacing, to write and direct, giving him total creative control. The result is a superhero flick huge in scope and ambition, littered with profanity, gore and offensive jokes. And I, for one, loved it. A terrific cast, including Idris Elba, Margot Robbie and Sylvester Stallone (as a walking talking shark) help propel this ‘dirty dozen’ style caper, in which super villains are offered reduced sentences in exchange for going on ‘suicide’ missions for a shady government agency, above the usual comic book fare. It almost feels like a movie sticking a finger up to the woke brigade infecting Hollywood movies that we continue to endure, and it’s refreshing for its balls out offensivity and ‘go big, or go home’ attitude.
Free Guy Sadly, another highly entertaining summer blockbuster that deserves success, this time Disney’s Free Guy, is also likely to grossly underperform due to the on-going (and seemingly never-ending) worldwide effects of the pandemic. Motor-mouthed Ryan Reynolds plays Guy, an NPC (non playable character) who inhabits popular video game Free City, who becomes self aware and begins to question his existence and own free-will. Arguably it isn’t an original idea, taking elements from The Truman Show, The Matrix and fellow video games based films, Wreck it Ralph and Ready Player One. Yet despite it’s pilfering of ideas, Free Guy still manages to feel fresh, thanks to its playful tone and surely superstar making turn by Jodi Comer of Killing Eve fame, who plays duel roles of both nerdy coder Millie and her in-game avatar, sexy femme fatale, Molotov Girl. Like The Suicide Squad, Free Guy isn’t afraid to push the controversial jokes buttons and some land better than others (though gags about cancer are surely never funny). For all that, this remains a family film that unabashedly revels in its goofy concepts, whilst simultaneously giving audiences something deeper to ponder upon. Free Guy is a rare treat then, being both a ridiculously over the top crowd pleaser and a film with plenty of heart and respect for its audience’s intelligence. It’s also the only film to make the word ‘catchphrase’, well, a brand new catchphrase.
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Taking A Step Back Long-term readers of my columns (yes, all five of you) may recall that I’ve spent most of my life being apolitical. Politics held little interest for me, and politicians were largely all the same and just wore a different coloured tie. I didn’t even vote for the majority of my adult life, viewing it as an exercise in futility and a sideshow, rather than a vehicle for any meaningful change.
KiNGPiN
But that all changed with the Brexit referendum and I’m sure it hasn’t gone unnoticed that many of my articles over the past few years have been distinctly political. For the last half decade I’ve immersed myself in politics, sociology and anthropology. I’ve devoured newsfeeds, articles, studies, forums and Reddit groups, trying to “For make some sense of it all.
The Kingmeister reports
tal and economic effects of the pandemic and the climate-change chickens really starting to come home to roost, that it’s entirely likely the next few decades will be an absolute shit-show, and only go downhill after that. I know there’s not a damn thing I can do about any of it either, so I’m not going to worry about it. I’m going to look after me and mine and enjoy some of the bread and circuses for a change. That might sound cynical and selfish to some of you, but in all honesty, I really don’t care. However, I’ll honestly never watch The Kardashians, mind you.
And nor am I about to turn into the love-child of Adolf Hitler and Rose West, or anything like that, of course. But if I can do things to help the people around me, then I will. the last half decade I’ve immersed myself in politics, sociology and anthropology. I’ve devoured Though neither am I going to waste any time or pity on people How have so many people in newsfeeds, articles, studies, forums and Reddit who continue to champion the power been able to lie to us for so same systems that are punching groups, trying to make some sense of it all.” very long and why have we been down on them, or expend so eager to believe them? Why sand, and believe me, I struggled with that emotional energy on worrying about existential does nothing ever really change, no matter who myself a bit too. After all, if we keep looking the issues. is in charge? And why are so many of us so other way and ignoring it all, then how are invested in perpetuating the dreary, unfulfilling things supposed to change? Well, they won’t. As far as writing this column and writing in genmonotony of the status-quo? Only I’ve come to realise they never will. And I eral goes, I’m not sure how my newly embraced won’t apologise for that sounding so cynical, ignorance will affect them. Even before I started I can’t say I’m any closer to a definitive answer possibly even nihilistic. The line between cynigetting political, a lot of what I write was based to these questions, though I certainly have a few cism and realism is razor-thin and increasingly around things that I’ve read, or listened to. theories, and I definitely know so much more blurred. Things that I’ve discovered because I was about politics, the dynamics of power and always looking, because I always wanted to human nature than I did 5 years ago. However, Look back across the roughly 5,000 years of know as much as I could about as many things a few weeks ago I came to realise something. recorded history and tell me what has fundaas I could, only I’m not doing that anymore. Am I more informed and educated than I was? mentally changed? I don’t mean advances in Certainly. Has this increase in knowledge and science and medicine, and while I concede I’m reading books, rather than studies and artiunderstanding enriched my life at all? No. Quite there have been large strides made towards cles, and I’m making a conscious effort to ignore the opposite, in fact. I realised that I’m starting equality and that the comfort and fecundity of the news, so Christ only knows what I’m going to turn into an angry person, and it’s the very modern life has allowed us to be more moral to write about in the future. Do you know I have worst kind of anger. It’s that seething, impotent and empathetic, what has really changed? absolutely no idea what has happened in the fury at systems and organisations I can never world over the past two weeks? I’ve been readeven touch, let alone change. That unfocused The rich and powerful exploit the poor and powing Jack Reacher novels and watching YouTube and contemptuous anger at people that’s starterless just as much now as ever before. Those videos about computer games instead and it ing to turn into a general disgust at human same people rig those same systems to ensure has been absolutely bloody lovely. nature itself. this continues and we continue to vote them in I’m not saying I spend my every waking moment ranting and raging, but I can feel that anger bubbling away almost all of the time. Only when I’m not feeling angry, I’m starting to feel sad, and spending my time fluctuating between anger and sadness isn’t how I want to live or who I want to be, so I’ve decided to walk away from it. Two weeks ago I unsubscribed from every newsfeed, podcast and YouTube channel that was even remotely connected to all of the things I’ve immersed myself in for the past few years. Reddit and the various news apps I used have all been deleted and the accounts closed. And do you know what? I’m already feeling the difference. I’m really starting to understand why the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss’ came into being. shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
Clearly Cypher had the right idea all along. I know some people will look down on me for choosing to metaphorically stick my head in the
power for more of the same. Keeping up with the Kardashians and iPhones are just the latest iterations of the bread and circuses politics of ancient Rome. Jesus, go all the way back to when Nog the Cro-Magnon realised he had a bigger stick than Og and Bog did, and it was the same shit back then, just arguably more honest. Therefore I’m forced to concede that the world remains the way it is because that’s the way we actually like it, but while I may be forced to accept it, nothing says I have to wallow in it. So, what now? Honestly, I really don’t know. I know that I’m going to focus on the wellbeing of my family and friends and, to be brutally honest, the rest of the world can just bugger off and leave me well alone as far as I’m concerned. I know that I’m increasingly of the opinion that due to the socie-
I know some of you have enjoyed my politically motivated diatribes and have been kind enough to contact me about them, and I’m enormously gratified that you have both read what I’ve written and took the time to get in touch with me. So to those people in particular, I can only apologise for turning my back on it all. But I was starting to become a miserable dickhead and, rightly or wrongly, I’d rather be ignorant and happy than ultra informed and pissed off all of the time. So, going forward, you can probably expect a lot more fluff and a lot less substance from me. Maybe you’ll like it? Maybe you won’t or? Or, more than likely, you won’t give a toss either way. But that’s fine by me. Page 27
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Max Headroom’s
BIZARRE NEWS A DEFINITE NO TO ‘BRA MONEY’
A hairy businessman divided opinion when he recently took a stand against ‘bra money’. Bedding salesman Michael Flynn had become fed up with customers paying with cash that had been stashed in their bras as temperatures soared in Dublin to above 30C. He sought to put an end to the ‘unsanitary habit’ by issuing a notice outside his store that read: ‘NO BRA MONEY. Due to increased temperatures and for our own personal safety, we will no longer be accepting any bra money. Sorry for any inconvenience. Signed, ‘Mattress Mick.’ Writing on Facecock, he added: ‘Due to the soaring heatwave, together with ongoing safe trading and social distancing restrictions, we urge all customers not to pay us directly from their bras and to keep your Euro notes in your purses or handbags at all times.’ While many customers thought the new rule hilarious, others argued that the policy was sexist, suggesting men also carried money in their underpants. Meanwhile, here at Headroom, we took one look at Michael Flynn and frankly, we were surprised he was bothered where the money came from.
LOOK WHAT A DRUNK eBAY SHOPPER ORDERED
In what will probably be the last year of The Edge, let’s truly celebrate fogeyism by all you 65+ readers sending in your snaps, as this could be your last chance to appear anywhere that’s ‘full-colour & glossy’. The more interesting the photograph, the better, so try to use a little imagination. And hey, if you’re chairbound, well then, you’ll have to use even more imagination still, won’t you? But that doesn’t exclude you. No way. So get your asses in gear and get those photo’s sent in. The Edge is looking forward to seeing ’em!
shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
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The Edge September(688) 2021/08/31 18:21:06
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