The Edge Magazine January 2018

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EDGE

the

JANUARY 2018

‘THE CHELMSFORD FANZINE’

ISSUE NO: 255

HAPPY NEW AR |

YOHJI YAMAMOTO

BOND STREET CHELMSFORD

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belief that suicide rates peak during the cold and darker months of the winter season.

ONE GOOD THING I take my columnists to task if ever they mention the dratted C-word in any other than the December editions. But one good thing about ‘the season that has just been’ is the opportunity to relax and watch reruns of Richard Curtis movies, such as Notting Hill and Love Actually, which never fail to make me blubber.

If that sounds soppy, hey, I must be guilty as charged, as I simply cannot help myself.

FLU JAB

The Edge Editor’s Column SAUSAGE SANDWICH Was enjoying a sausage sandwich with plenty of HP sauce the other Saturday morning, when all of a sudden the washing machine ended its cycle. “Allow me to attend to the niceties of hanging up the whites to dry,� I said to my missus.

Only a bit later, upon inspection, the wife was puzzled to see that not all of the stains appeared to have come out of the tea towels.

Or her knickers. Or....

And it was then that the penny dropped and I was in for yet another bollocking.

The moral of this story is: always wash your hands before you hang any washing up/out to dry after a sausage sarnie.

COMMON HELD BELIEF Research on seasonal effects where suicide rates are concerned suggests that the prevalence of such is greatest during the spring and early summer months, despite the common held

Treated myself to one of those Flu Jab’s last month, as the wife had a week long bout of flu that neither of us had ever seen the likes of before. Bless her, the bones in her hands and feet even ached. Which meant I ended up having to shovel coal, until she was well enough to resume her duties, of course.

HOE Isn’t it strange how, in our formative years, we simply think upon a hoe as being something mummy might attend to in the garden.

To think that the very first thing many of you do each and every morning is to connect to Facecock truly sickens me, because such dependency is plainly wrong on so many levels.

To be governed by hearts, likes and thumbs-up emojis is simply stupid, sick and vacuous.

FASHION Not only is Pep Guardiola making the rest of the Premiership look like donkeys and cart-horses, let’s hear it for his stylish black bomber jacket and matching black scarf over his ultra-toned frame. While across the other side of town, Mourinho scowls above the bags beneath his eyes and scrunches his nose at the distasteful smell of stale milk all over his grey anorak.

OFFENSIVE Check out Bristol City’s away kit if you want to see something truly offensive, ladies.

FANTASTIC RESPONSE Thanks very much indeed to all those massage and chiropractor peeps out there who bothered to get in touch with me about my dodgy back.

It’s so good to know that you read the mag.

Will update you readers in February.

FACECOCK

MR CAVENDISH

I always trust my gut instinct about stuff and I never did understand what all the fuss was about when Facebook first came about.

Oh sure, it has certainly blossomed, as it were.

But you must be absolutely crackers if you think that’s a good thing.

Many of us, myself included, live our lives totally unaided or dependent upon some ludicrous idea from America that has been gobbled up mindlessly by the vast majority who act little better than flies around a dog turd. I honestly believe we’re far better off without it too.

Have you discovered Mr Cavendish for coffee in Chelmsford yet, readers?

I’M A CELEBRITY Whatever you say about the programme, I very much doubt I’d last 5 minutes in the jungle. The trials are definitely getting harder and the sheer size/volume of those horrible critter smoothies.

Not to mention rats, snakes, spiders etc.

THE EDGE Chelmsford CM2 6XD 077 646 7 97 44 shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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They are a small, family run, local, independent travel agent (see below) and you, as a customer, are not just be a number to them, but an individual who will be appreciated, valued and respected (take note: The Edge has booked two holidays with Encore Travel and counting).

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Here’s what Guy Martin (see page 20) has to say on conventional life: “I was driving down the dual-carriageway the other day when I saw a guy about my age in a people-carrier on the hard-shoulder, bonnet up, steam coming out of the engine, kids in the back, his wife by his side giving him proper pelters into his earhole. What does he do at the weekend? Clean out his gutters? Mow his lawn? How could I ever explain what I do to someone like that. It just wouldn’t be in his DNA.” Bit harsh, but The Edge can see where Guy’s coming from.

Like The Edge, Guy’s a bit like Marmite.

Although he definitely puts my teeth to shame.

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WHAT THIS PICTURE SAYS TO THE EDGE...

“You’re sh *tting me, right? You’re saying we live on a floating football surrounded by nighttime and stars and stuff?”

You can’t really make out the Army & Navy flyover when you look at Planet Earth as a whole, can you? So it doesn’t look so Mickey Mouse as when you approach in from, say, Chelmer Village, or after you’ve done your weekly shop at the Princes Road Tesco store. But it’s there alright, or so we’re told. Although The Edge wouldn’t honestly know that to be fact as it’s never been in outer space to take a look for itself, so we end up trusting the likes of people we’ve never even met before. Such as Captain Kirk, David Attenborough and Buzz Lightyear.

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But what is, apparently, a fact is that Planet Earth’s rotation is gradually slowing down. Yes, how about that? To put that into some sort of perspective, if something similar happened to your washing machine, you’d contact a plumber pretty damn quickly, wouldn’t you, and bugger the call-out-charge.

Fear not though, readers, for the Earth is decelerating almost imperceptibly at approximately 17 milliseconds per hundred years, so it’s not as if it’s likely to affect the likes of you or I. However, at some point, perhaps in another 140 million years, there could well be 25 hours in a day.

We are called the Blue Planet because when astronauts first went into space and looked back at the Earth with human eyes for the very first time (if you believe that humans have ever been into space, that is), because 70% of our planet is covered in water (think that Kevin Costner movie), they said it looked blue. Yet only 3% of the water is fresh*. Bummer.

Do you know why we have a Leap Year every 4 years? It’s because a year on Earth is actually ‘a little bit longer’ (The Edge won’t bore you with the fractions) than 365 days and those extra little bits all add up. Although why the extra day always gets tagged onto February The Edge isn’t sure, as it’s always quite fancied a date such as 32nd January.

Oh, and get this: the Earth isn’t actually round. Yes, we accept that the David Icke’s of this world say that the Royal Family are all reptiles and that the world is as flat as a pancake. But in fact it’s geold. Which means that its rounded shape has a bit of a bulge (think Dirk Diggler in Boogie Nights) towards the equator. It’s all to do with the rotation process and the pectoral thrust.

Planet Earth tilts at roughly 66 degrees - which is 63 degrees more than Helen Scott, Sheila Ferguson and Valerie Holiday (oh my word, that is such an inexcusable bit of jesting). But back to the water thing: of the 3% of water on Earth that is fresh*, 2% of that is frozen, in the form of ice sheets and glaciers. Which means that should we, you know, ever get into a bit of a Bear Grylls survival type of a situation, only 1% of the water available to us is drinkable, from sources such as lakes, rivers and that which is underground. (Not very handy, that latter one, is it?)

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The Edge 255_The Edge 172.qxd 18/12/2017 22:52 Page 8

This month I was set a challenge by editor Shaun to see what I could come up with where partridge is concerned. Although I eat a fair bit of game, I rarely cook it, so it proved to be quite an enjoyable challenge.

The best local place I discovered to get my meat was from Robinson Meats on the Main Road in Broomfield. Partridge is very cheap and really tasty.

Robinson’s had them at £3.95 each or two for £7 which I think is very reasonable.

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Ingredients 2 partridges, tied, trussed and ready for roasting 150g of haggis 50g of butter 1 garlic clove 2 sprigs of fresh thyme 1 tbsp of vegetable oil Sea salt Glazed turnips 16 baby turnips 2 tsp runny honey Honey glaze 450ml of runny honey 20 black peppercorns 1 tsp cloves 1 tsp coriander seeds 1 cardamom pod Partridge sauce 500g of partridge bones 1 carrot, peeled and diced 1 small beetroot, peeled and diced 40g of unsalted butter 2 banana shallots, peeled and sliced 6 button mushrooms, sliced 5 garlic cloves, peeled and sliced 1 sprig of fresh thyme 1 sprig of fresh rosemary 2 tbsp of sherry vinegar, to deglaze the pan 1.2 litres brown chicken stock 8 cloves 8 black peppercorns 8 juniper berries, crushed 75ml of sherry 250ml of Madeira 1 tbsp of vegetable oil Method Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas mark 4 and begin to prepare the partridge sauce. Place a deep roasting tin over a medium heat and add a tablespoon of vegetable oil. Once hot, add the partridge bones to the tray and roast for 25–30 minutes.

Add the chopped carrot and beetroot to the roasting tin and return to the oven for 6–8 minutes, then add the butter, chopped shallotS, mushrooms, garlic and fresh herbs and return the tin to the oven.

Roast for another 6–8 minutes, taking care that the ingredients don't over-brown.

Add a splash of sherry vinegar to the tin to deglaze it, scraping up any brown residue from the base of the tin. Stir in the stock and return the tin to the oven for another 30 minutes.

For the glazed turnips, place the baby turnips into a small pan, cover with water and add the honey and a pinch of salt. Bring to the boil then remove from the heat and allow the turnips to cool in the cooking liquor. Store in the liquor until ready to serve.

Remove the roasting tin from the oven and transfer the partridge sauce to a deep pan, adding the cloves and peppercorns. Cover the pan with cling film and allow to stand for 45 minutes.

While the sauce is standing, add the sherry and Madeira to a large pan and bring to the boil.

Cook until reduced by half.

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As this is reducing, add the spices for the honey glaze to a dry frying pan and lightly toast until aromatic. Transfer to a spice grinder or pestle & mortar and grind to a powder. Place in a small saucepan and add the runny honey, warming through over a gentle heat until combined. Keep warm until ready to serve, or reheat gently first to ensure it remains runny.

Once the sherry and Madeira have reduced and the sauce has rested, strain the sauce mixture through a fine sieve into the pan with the reduced alcohols.

Mix well and check for seasoning, reserving until ready to serve.

Cooking the Partridge To cook the partridge, heat a large frying pan over a medium heat for 1 minute. Add a tablespoon of oil and heat through for a further minute. Season the birds all over with sea salt then add to the pan, browning evenly on all sides.

Add the butter and baste the birds continuously as the butter melts. Turn the birds on their sides and add the garlic and thyme to the hot pan, then transfer to the oven to roast. Cook on each breast and on the backbone for 4 minutes each, basting in the butter with every turn.

Meanwhile, slice the haggis into thick rounds and place on a baking tray. Cook for 6–8 minutes in the same oven, then transfer to a bowl. When cool enough to handle, roll the haggis mixture into four small balls and place on a clean baking tray.

Return to the oven for another 6–8 minutes.

Remove the partridges from the oven and allow to stand breast-side down and loosely cover in foil for 8 minutes. Remove the legs and trim out the thigh bones, trimming neatly around the drumstick bone for presentation. Carefully remove the breasts from the bone and place in the pan with the warm honey glaze. Turn until coated in the sticky glaze then transfer to serving plates.

To serve, place a glazed breast on each plate along with a leg and a ball of haggis. Scatter over the cooked and sliced baby turnips. Spoon over a little of the partridge sauce and season generously with black pepper.

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SURELY you’ve seen this advert on TV, promoting some Amazon Firestick thingy, whatever one of those is? The Edge really does hope it was filmed in Jeremy Clarkson’s front room (okay, so it 99.9% most probably wasn’t) because it is absolutely PRICELESS. This mag also thinks it’s fantastic the way Clarkson is so very willing to send himself up, although I guess if you pay him enough .... (see page 29).

They say Jeremy’s one of those Marmite characters, but The Edge doesn’t see why that’s the case at all, because he is simply a superb presenter who has proved himself to be bigger than the show (Top Gear) and the bosses at the Beeb must have surely been plain stupid to fire him.

Okay, so perhaps he shouldn’t have punched “lazy Irish” (that’s what Clarkson called him) producer Oisin Tymon in the mouth. But in his defense, Jem was quite peckish at the time. What’s more, he has also punched Piers Morgan in the mouth too, and I doubt whether many of us would disagree with that. So it seems sometimes you just have to accept that there are rogue mavericks amongst us and it’s best to cut them a little slack.

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Did you see Vic Reeves playing the character of Colin in Coronation Street during the tail end of 2017, readers?

What a performance. Not since Brando appeared in On The Waterfront back in 1954 has a leading actor sizzled like frying sausages onto the screen.

Initially working on a local radio station on which Norris and Mary were entering a Mr & Mrs competition, The Edge has it on good authority that Colin did indeed think that (a) Nozzer might be his dad, and (b) ended up buying The Kabin for the briefest of periods.

Says Reeves (Jim Moir): “There’s only one programme I have watched my whole life and that is Coronation Street (’Ere, ’ere - says your editor). It is a great institution and to actually be in it was a pure privet hedge.”

Describing his arrival on the set, he explained to The Edge: “It was a bit like my first day at secondary school. I was very, very nervous. But everyone was so nice and I made friends with the cast ever so quickly...” (blah-de-blah, same old shit).

Comedy sidekick Bob Mortimer, who uses the same hairdresser as Prince William and Prince Harry, echoed his chuckle brother’s sentiments when he had a coffee with The Edge in Pret a Manger and said: “Vic was incredibly excited by the prospect and says since appearing as Colin in Corrie he now gets shouted at in the street even more than usual.”

Vic says: “It was only for three months and fortunately the scriptwriters haven’t killed Colin off, so you never know what might happen in the future.”

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As a pre-Edge editor, I used to watch The Partridge Family.

And Follyfoot.

And White Horses.

But hey, I was also one of only two lads to break into our primary school football team a year early, so really, those former three confessions never held me back from becoming ‘a real man’.

Sad news that David Cassidy recently died though, because growing up during an era of Osmondmania, I always thought DC was by far the classier act.

I never realised Shirley Jones (above, centre) was also his step-mum in real life though, from the age of 11.

His life is actually a bit of a sad story. He loved the blues and wanted to become a serious actor, but he was pretty, he got cast as Keith Partridge and it was a shock to the producers when they found out he could actually sing.

So the rest, as they say, is history.

I just remember the way hordes of girls would be at Heathrow airport as his ’plane landed for a concert or three in Blighty and how I wished girls would scream for me like that in the school playground. And yet there he was, wishing to hell that they wouldn’t.

They always say we need to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes before we’re fit to judge anyone, don’t they?

I think that’s a bit of a life lesson in general, as far too often we form inaccurate impressions about people we don’t even know from Adam.

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Cancer Research UK’s Race for Life is a series of fun and inspiring women-only events, raising money for research to help beat over 200 types of cancer, while Pretty Muddy is an exciting, mud-splattered addition which also includes 5k, 10k, Pretty Muddy Kids, Half-Marathon and Hiking challenges, open to women and girls aged 13 and over. Participants will face a number of messy and muddy obstacles to climb over, crawl under and charge through, plus a few surprises along the way. Participants are free to tackle the course at their own pace. It isn’t about blood, sweat and tears. It’s about fun, friendship and fundraising to help beat cancer sooner. This year, there are 88 epic Pretty Muddy events across the UK. Girls and boys can also get muddy for a good cause and take part in Pretty Muddy Kids - a new exciting obstacle course designed just for children aged 5 to 12 years of age. Money raised through Race for Life will help Cancer Research UK scientists find new ways to prevent, diagnose and treat the disease, helping save more lives. Signing up to take part couldn’t be easier. Simply visit raceforlife.org or call 0300 123 0770.

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5pm-8pm

FRIDAY 19th

JAN.

Page 12

I used to love a Sunday visit to Camden Market during the wintertime, only I don’t know what it is about getting older, but you just can’t seem to be arsed in the same way you once could, and everything seems to be such a lot more hassle.

We went there recently. If you leave Chelmsford around nineish, or a little earlier, the journey by car shouldn’t be such a problem and should only take about an hour. We usually park for free (that would otherwise be a permit parking zone Monday - Friday) right outside some ever so posh houses overlooking Regent’s Park and walk from there on the towpath that runs right beside the canal. The water looked disgusting though, which is something I probably didn’t notice as much when I was a bit younger.

I was absolutely bursting for a pee as soon as we got there and they like to charge you 40p for the privilege. Forty pee to spend a penny? By comparison, it is absolutely free to relieve oneself in the ever so well kept public toilets on Market Road, Chelmsford, and then you can go visit Chelmsford Market, which is where all similarities with Camden ends.

Apparently, Camden Market is the fourth most popular visitor attraction in London, luring crowds with a penchant for bric-a-brac (tut) and fast food, although I do have to say you can sometimes pick up a bargain where the latter is concerned, particularly if you visit a Thai stall with a proper scary Thai singer (he sings along, word for word, to all the songs they play whilst he is serving). He really does sound seriously weird.

On the downside, it is definitely possible to say that ‘once you’ve seen one stall, you’ve pretty much seen them all’. Yes, of course that statement isn’t factually correct, it’s just that these days it seems that way to me.

In the past we’ve bought a lovely clock and a bakerlite telephone from Camden. But as one enters one’s twilight years, you just don’t seem as though you need what they’re pedaling as much any more, so all they did me for on this particular visit was some well overpriced nougat.

Have to say, getting out of Camden and back to the M25 afterwards was a sheer and utter nightmare and took twice as long as getting there, with traffic lights seemingly every few hundred metres or so. So if you do go, then you might want to consider going via rail and tube. Or, alternatively, via the dreaded replacement bus that we cannot get enough of.

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The Edge 255_The Edge 172.qxd 18/12/2017 23:06 Page 14

No longer using the same, overworked script for each person, I like to think I bring a fresh approach to the whole hypnosis procedure, using intuitive healing speech, based on 18 years of experience, to create a quick and long lasting change in thoughts and feelings, writes local hypnotherapist Susan Keogh.

confidential and individually tailored to meet your needs so that no session is the same. Plus it can also be discussed by phone or Skype before or after the session to support you along your way whenever needed.

My hypnotherapy techniques are not just about losing weight, or giving up smoking, but concern anything that you would like to change or improve in your life, because it really can happen, easily and effectively.

Supposing you fear driving to new places, have had to face grief or heartache, wish to feel invigorated, improve your memory, feel better about yourself (as well as yes, lose weight or stop smoking!), my methods will help.

Everyone - young or old - is easily able to take on healing hypnotherapy, using their imagination to help them feel happy, confident and replenished. My sessions provide a relaxing and colourful journey where I guide you both into repairing and feeling good about yourself once again.

Each session is obviously totally

Page 14

In any hypnotherapy session you are always fully awake and totally aware of the things going on around you. You are completely safe at all times, because your subconscious is there to protect you. For example, waking out of sleep at an unusual noise or smell of smoke. You are always protected and can not be made to do or say anything against your will. At any time you can open your eyes and be fully aware and alert.

Once you have tried hypnotherapy and understand the principles behind it, you can easily use the methods to change and enhance your life.

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The Edge 255_The Edge 172.qxd 18/12/2017 23:06 Page 15

Dog owners are less likely to die an early death, or suffer a fatal heart attack or stroke, a dratted major study has found.

Owning a dog apparently helps cut the risk of an early death by as much as 20%, while fatal cardiovascular disease is slashed by almost 23%.

By simply licking you, or bringing dirt into the house, a canine companion helps to provide good bacteria that we all require in order to to stay healthy, scientists believe.

Dog owners who are single are most likely to experience the benefits, as pets are thought to protect them against social isolation and improve

general wellbeing. Which is in addition to the exercise which comes from taking them for walkies every day.

The findings emerged from a 16-year study of more than 3.4million people by an unpronounceable university in the depths of Sweden.

The research also suggests that having a dog could help their owners cope much better where stress is concerned.

Some high-up chappy who appears to know what he is talking about says: “Owning a dog is associated with reduced mortality and risk of having heart disease.”

www.theedgemag.co.uk

Hang on, hadn’t we already established that back in the very first paragraph?

“While previous studies have suggested this association, they have not been quite as conclusive, largely due to the population size studied.

“Alternatively, it could be something called reverse causality, which means people who are

fitter and more active are also far more likely to own a dog.”

The study, which began in 2001, focused on people aged 40 to 80 over a 12 year period and tracked dog ownership.

They recorded deaths from all causes and people who suffered heart attacks, heart failure, or the two main types of stroke, in order to determine the effect of having a dog versus cardiovascular disease.

The results conclusively show that owning a dog offered people a 20% reduction in the risk of early death over a 12 year period, compared with non-owners.

And there’s a lot you can do inside of 12 years, isn’t there, readers?

Trouble is, from The Edge’s point of view, dogs have always fallen down in two main categories.

(1) They cannot wipe their own arses.

(2) They cannot brush their own teeth.

They also require a fair bit of attention, as it’s not cricket to ignore them, and I would suggest two walks per day, as opposed to just the one.

I guess it always looks as though there’s a lot more purpose to a walk with a dog than simply going for a wander without one.

So I’ll never say never to owning a dog, as 12 extra years on the planet is not to be scoffed at.

But I’d far rather be jogging on a beach with one in the sunshine and chucking it bits of driftwood to retrieve from the surf than be in Chelmsford.

Page 15

The Edge 255_The Edge 172.qxd 19/12/2017 16:02 Page 16

Things always look different when you view them from a bit higher up, don’t they? The Edge is wondering what the views are like from the very top of those two residential developments in Chelmsford. Perhaps the person, or persons, who own the penthouse suites can get in touch?

There used to be a series of programmes on TV called ‘Britain’s Best View’ where each month a bit of a celeb would try to convince us that their particular favourite deserved to be voted (by the general public) as Britain’s best.

Welsh soprano Katherine Jenkins actually convinced The Edge Crew to spend a long weekend’s camping trip to the Gower Peninsula because she reckoned Three Cliffs Bay is to die for.

And maybe it is, when you view it from up in the air. But as mere mortals

Page 16

viewing it from the beach, I have to report that it was, at best, average.

Whereas I happen to think that the photograph I took one sunny Sunday morning (above) makes our little city look not three bad.

However, if you arrive at Chelmsford on a splendid day via our much maligned rail service, then this mag has to say that as one travels across the viaduct and views the parkland beneath, we actually look pretty damn impressive, particularly from 50ft up in the air (or whatever it is).

So all things considered, there must be far worse places to live in Great Britain than Chelmsford, right?

Although we’re hardly a holiday destination.

But that is praise indeed from The Edge.

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There have been recent features on various news programmes about how space is getting cluttered up with debris that is whizzing around the Earth far faster than a Bugatti Veyron, so clearly the Clangers aren’t doing their job (we should have put the Wombles up in the solar system instead).

Just to put this into some sort of perspective, twenty tons of debris alone is parked on the moon, in a cheesey, Steptoe & Son junk yard, no doubt.

The modern term for it is SPACE JUNK and it consists of discarded man-made objects, including huge metal parts of rockets and the odd monkey-wrench that an astronaut might have dropped by mistake. All told it has been accumulating for the past 60 years, ever since 1957 when the

Soviet Union launched Sputnik. Since then, a further 4,000 satellites have been launched into orbit.

The biggest bit of space junk is reported to be the size of a double-decker bus, so you can imagine the damage that could do were it to come into contact with a satellite or, heaven forbid, a manned spacecraft, travelling at 17,000mph (The Edge thinks that’s the figure quoted, but it was flippin’ fast whatever it was).

But now, according to right tall Dan Walker on Breakfast TV (so it must be true), some sort of washing-machine-sized, cordless, numatic Henry Hoover, is being launched to clear it all up. And that is gospel, is that, folks.

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Page 17

The Edge 255_The Edge 172.qxd 18/12/2017 23:07 Page 18

SAD NEWS that one of The Likely Lads, Rodney Bewes (above, right), died before Christmas and not long before his 80th birthday.

Created by the remarkable writing due that was Ian La Frenais and Dick Clement, who were also responsible for Porridge and Auf Wiedersehen, Pet, The Likely Lads is one of The Edge’s favourite comedy series of all time and it only hopes that an episode or two, or indeed a series or two, will soon be repeated in order to show some of the yoof/cretins of today what true comedy gold is all about.

“Oh, you old, northern fart,” they might no doubt say of The Edge, and perhaps they’d be right. But that doesn’t make The Likely Lads any less brilliant than it clearly was, and still remains.

For those who aren’t familiar, the sitcom was set in Newcastle upon Tyne and was oh so much better than The Liver Birds (Sandra & Polly, if The Edge remembers correctly) which came later and was set in Liverpool. It also held extra resonance for your editor as I must have been at primary school in County Durham when I watched my very first episode (not that I was at school when I watched it, you understand, but it most certainly would have been on a black & white TV set that you had to walk over to in order to turn on/off and change channels).

There was also a sequel series entitled Whatever Happened to The Likely Lads that ran in the early seventies and was every bit as good as the original.

Bob Ferris (Rodney Bewes) and Terry Collier (James Bolam) were two young working class men and proper best buddies, although what they’re doing drinking white wine (above) The Edge hasn’t a clue, as it was always pints of beer so far as I can ever remember. They went to school together, they went to Scouts together, and they even began their working lives together in the very same factory.

Terry was always the cynical, working class and funnier one, while Bob was far more aspirant, upwardly mobile and wanting to better himself.

There hobbies were pretty much beer, football and girls, and they were both right canny lads.

Great shame the pair fell out in real life, but that’s another story and a mute point that will never alter their amazing on-screen camaraderie.

SOMEWHAT SURPRISINGLY The Edge gives a huge thumbs-up to both Paddington movies and the only reason it says ‘surprisingly’ is because Paddington was never on its radar when it was a wee, pre-editor bairn.

But hey, what’s not to like?

The original version is my favourite, but these movies and stories can simply go on and on because they’re ever so, well, sweet.

I suppose you could call it an ‘ideal family film’, but whenever I hear that term, I always think of something I’d prefer not to watch, so by calling it Page 18

such The Edge would be doing it a gross disservice. And anyway, me and the missus chose to spend our hard-earned to go watch them both and we will most definitely go and see Paddington 3, whenever that is.

Hugh Grant is in this latest escapade and he pretty much plays himself (i.e. a proper bell-end). But what The Edge predicts is going to happen is that luvies are going to be gagging for a role in any future Paddington screenplays, a bit like they always wanted to appear on Morcambe & Wise shows, as it offers them some much needed kudos on their CV’s.

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Can anyone out there explain to The Edge exactly what this is, other than a complete and utter waste of space?

Isn’t it something to do with it being an overflow area in case the river running between Tesco and Loch Fyne/Prezzo ever bursts its banks?

Thing is, so far as this mag can recall, that has never ever happened.

So what to do with it?

Well, first up it appears that a company called Michael Laurie Magar Ltd. need to be consulted as they manage the area and it would appear they are apparently pleased to send any of us curious enough to enquire something called a copy of ‘Open Space Regulations’, which will doubtless make for right riveting reading (snooze).

The Edge truly doesn’t want to seem pessimistic, but it can just imagine the pamphlet will contain pretty much everything that cannot be done in this particular area, and why, as opposed to concentrating on what instead could be done to make this totally unused space far much more of a focal point.

For instance, think Covent Garden and the number of buskers it attracts.

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Although hang on a minute, this is Chelmsford, isn’t it?

And whilst we might like to think that we’re now this and we’re now that, since achieving City status and being told that the whole Bond Street development has somehow uplifted our credentials of becoming a true shopper’s paradise (we’re oh so still not), when it comes to the crunch, are we really ready to go the extra mile?

Okay, so let’s be hearing some of your ideas for this space, readers.

For instance, what about turning it into a proper, organised 5-a-side football zone where lunchtime league games could take place between, say, noon and 2:00pm?

Or maybe basketball? Or perhaps an all-girls lunchtime netball league?

Or volleyball?

Trouble is, this all sounds far too chilly to contemplate during the winter months.

However, during the summer, this area is without doubt one of the hottest spots in town/city, as anyone who has ever dined al fresco at either Loch Fyne or Prezzo will surely testify.

And let’s face it, it looks a bit like a disused parking lot at the moment, so surely it could be put to good use for something.

For instance, would the High Street market traders be interested in moving there?

Or perhaps it could be an area for all those people with a clipboard, or who rattle charity tins, to congregate in, so that the rest of us can move around the High Street far more freely and without obstruction?

Hang on, I’ve just had another idea. How about installing a kiddies go-kart track and allowing them to freely go around it by whatever kiddiepowered modes of transport their parents care to bring along (most definitely without an engine)?

This is seriously such a tricky one and The Edge is genuinely at a loss to suggest something it is 100% confident in, so it is clutching at straws a bit.

So come on, readers, shake a leg and get your grey matter working. Just what can we do about this total waste of space?

We need a bit of the old BST (blue sky thinking) to solve this one.

Only haven’t you ever visited other towns and city's, seen something you like, and wondered: ‘Why doesn’t Chelmsford have something like that?’

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Page 19

The Edge 255_The Edge 172.qxd 18/12/2017 23:07 Page 20

GUY MARTIN’S VOLVO

OMG, have you seen Guy Martin’s Volvo estate?

Yes, readers, you heard The Edge correctly; his Volvo estate.

But not just any Volvo estate. Oh no, no, no, no, no. Because Guy’s pride and joy is his souped-up 1967 Volvo Vox and it is magnificent.

When your editor first saw it, it wasn’t goosebumps and it wasn’t envy. In fact, it took me a while to figure out exactly what it was that I was feeling.

But in the end it came to me loud and clear, like a bolt from the blue.

It was plain and simply desire.

the road from a very early age, with ‘The Ladies’ (Mercedes) being a particularly fond mispronunciation. To this day, I still hold a candle for the original mk I versions of both the Ford Cortina and the Ford Capri, which is strange as I’m not particularly a Ford fan, although I am impressed with what I have seen of the appropriately named Ford Edge that graces our roads today.

My particular favourite car of all time has always been the Austin Healey that is pictured below. However, since clocking Guy’s Volvo, given the

“I’ve had my fair share of cars,” says Guy, “but none have been a patch on my Volvo, which is a true thing of beauty. It’s battleship grey (so it’s clearly not the one featured above, but other than that it looks pretty much the same) and every time I get in it, it twists my mind. Although it looks like a standard, reconditioned Volvo, I honestly reckon it’s probably the fastest car in Britain, as it’s quicker than any Porsche, Ferrari or Bugatti you care to mention. And I’m not boasting - it’s just a fact.”

Okay, so let your editor interject at this point. When SEM (successful Essex man) does well in business, what does he do? That’s right, he goes and gets himself a Beamer, doesn’t he. Probably one of the ‘M’ versions too. Great cars, no doubt about it. But where Guy’s Volvo is concerned, we are talking about true individuality and identity.

choice, I know which I’d rather have.

To clarify this point, I need you to take on board the fact that beauty is most definitely in the eye of the beholder and what I most definitely do not see is for your TEM (typical Essex man) with his sunglasses perched on the back of his head (whatever the weather) and his sockless loafers (whatever the weather) to be remotely interested in anything as astute and understated as a Volvo Vox, simply because he wants/needs that damn ‘M’ badge and all that he feels it signifies.

You need to have a lot more about you to understand the sheer and utter beauty of a car like Guy’s and if I spotted Tracey Emin driving one, with her arm out the window, on a sunny day on Brighton promenade, that would be perfect.

The difference between me and Guy Martin - apart from the hair, the successful career and the bank balance - is the fact that that boy really does need his speed, whereas I’m a thrifty northerner who’s always been far more interested in the mpg ratio.

The original engine in his Vox/Amazon was 1778cc, which Vocks replaced with a turbocharged 2.8 litre beast offering 788bhp (in its original form, the car produced around 90bhp) and a top speed of over 200mph, doing 0-60mph in less than three seconds, which is plain crackers.

It also boasts red leather racing seats, whilst the two rear doors were removed to create a three-door, exceptionally fast avant.

I guess we have to allow Guy these modifications because speed is genuinely his passion. But once again, where he and I differ is the fact that there’s no way I’d want the back axle showcasing (why would you?) and I most certainly would not have got rid of the two rear doors either.

Furthermore, 170-200bhp would honestly do me, whilst it would need to achieve no less than 36mph around town and 40-plus mpg on a journey.

It’s probably a man-thing, but when you start a car up and the earth sort of moves for you, simply because of the sound, then yes, I wouldn’t say no to a bit of that. But it has to be within reason and proportionate to the power of the vehicle, as there’s nothing worse than a bean-can exhaust on a Citroen Saxo, especially if you live in a cul-de-sac.

Cars are, without question, a luxury/necessity, but they don’t half lose their value (most of ’em), which is why I’ve never been totally besotted with them. But if Jim Bowen ever said to me: “Let’s have a look at what you could have won...” and it turned out to be some sort of a hybrid variation of a Citroen H van that had a bit more glass than that which you see below and you could sleep/camp in it, then that’d do me perfectly.

Guy chopped in his Aston Martin Vantage V12 to buy his Volvo and The Edge reckons that pretty much says all you need to know about him, because he’s simply someone that fashion passes by, someone who’s genuinely happy in his own skin, and surely there can’t possibly be anything better than that.

He says, “I find it very odd that many people seem to feel that if they spend a fortune on a motor car it makes them somehow more important than they actually are. Someone once said to me: “I’ve got a 458 Ferrari.

Vinyl stripes on the bonnet cost me seven grand extra, but you have to have them, don’t you?” That may sound like a small thing, but to me it was massive and pretty much said everything about the guy.

“And that’s why the Volvo appealed to me so much, because it is the complete antithesis of what a supercar is supposed to be. In fact, it is an antisupercar and something I simply had to have instead of the Aston, which disappointed me, if I’m honest.”

Just to get the facts straight, Guy’s Volvo is actually a Volvo Amazon that was converted (including a glass floor in the rear to allow a decent view of the axle) by a Swedish chap called Mattias Vocks - hence the name Vox. When I was a kid, I am told I used to be able to name many of the cars on Page 20

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The Edge 255_The Edge 172.qxd 18/12/2017 23:08 Page 21

ART? SURELY NOT Did you see that a piece of ‘artwork’ by an artist called Cy Twombly that just sold for $46m (see picture).

Don't get me wrong, I believe people are free to spend their money on whatever they like, but spending $46m on a painting that resembles something knocked up by a 2-year old is almost as bad as when Liverpool paid £35m for Andy Carroll.

I am not blind to the fact that perhaps I am simply uncultured, so I took the time to visit the Christie's website to try and understand why this piece could attract such a large sale price.

In the listing, it was said that the artwork's "bright red spirals seem to both climb and fall" and that "Twombly allowed each of his marks to run down the canvas, suggesting the dripping of wine - or blood."

Now I can see how this resembles blood, or paint, because it is messy

and a deep red colour - but that’s about it. I've also watched enough episodes of Dexter to know that blood doesn’t spatter like that, and spilt enough red wine to know that it doesn't stain in the same manner as the painting.

So, if the painting itself didn't attract the high sale price, then it must be the artist, right? Cy Twombly was an American artist, sculptor and photographer who died in 2011. He is famed for large-scale freely scribbled works, many of which are in permanent collections of famous modern art museums around the world, including the Tate Modern, the Museum of Modern Art and the Musee du Louvre. Wikipedia states that his work can be understood as ‘one vast engagement with cultural memory’.

He artwork is described as a kind of metascript in which abbreviated signs, hashtags, loops, numbers and the simplest of pictographs spread throughout the picture plane in a process of incessant movement.

Personally, that still ain't selling it for me and I am inclined to agree with the comments of alt-right journalist, Paul Joseph Watson, who said that modern art is a perfect example of Obscurantism. In short, he says that

modern art snobs use fancy words and explanations to disguise the fact that their works are completely meaningless and that they use it as a mechanism for confusing people so that their initial discernment is temporarily suspended, making them afraid of criticising such ‘art’ for fear of appearing uncultured or ignorant.

Ironically some commentators suggest that modern art took off after a practical joke played by the artist Marcel Duchamp when he created a work called ‘Fountain’. This was a urinal he submitted as a work of art in order to confuse exhibition directors and to challenge their perception of value - I think he was simply taking the piss, so to speak.

PEPPA PIG Having a young daughter, I have recently been watching a lot of Peppa Pig. For those of you who don't know, this children's cartoon details the lives and adventures of Peppa Pig, her younger brother George, Mummy Pig and Daddy Pig. In the show, Daddy Pig is an honest, hardworking father who loves and cares for his family. He is an architect and, bearing in mind that he is a Pig, I think he should be applauded for his achievements. Instead, all you ever hear is Daddy being criticised and taunted for being either lazy, overweight, or for not being able to put up shelves straight.

Billy Hinken Granted there is some humour around the taunting and his exploits, but I just wonder whether the humour would have been taken in quite the same way if it was about Mummy pig? Could you imagine the furore if she was jokingly criticised for not doing the dishes, living off of Daddy Pig's wages and for failing to lose her baby weight? There is a serious point here and that is that this programme is aimed at children and it is creating some false and demeaning stereotypes of Dad's.

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Page 21

The Edge 255_The Edge 172.qxd 18/12/2017 23:08 Page 22

ONLY JOKING! TWO MORE COME FORWARD

Sooty & Sweep say their abuse carried on for years and years. They say they had fingers shoved up their backsides and that the BBC knew about it all along, yet turned a blind eye.

BEAUTY PARLOUR The wife spent the afternoon in one of those high class beauty parlours the other day. She had one of those mudpacks applied and she really did look great for the whole of the following week. Until it started to crack and fall off.

FIRST GRADE Ms Brooks, a first-grade teacher, was having trouble with one of her students.

So she asked, “Just what is your problem?”

Harry said, “I'm way too smart for 1st grade. My sister’s in 3rd grade and I'm way smarter than she is. I think I should at least be in the 3rd grade too.”

Ms Brooks had had enough. So she took Harry to the principal's office. While Harry waited in the outer office, the teacher explained the situation and the principal informed Ms Brooks he would give young Harry a test. If he failed to answer any of the questions, he would remain in the 1st grade and behave.

Ms Brooks agreed.

So Harry was brought in and the conditions of the test were explained to him.

Principal: “What is 3 x 3?”

Harry: “Nine, of course.”

Principal: “What is 6 x 6?”

Harry (yawning): “Thirty-six.”

And so it went, with Harry answering every question the principal thought a 3rd grader ought to know.

The principal looked at Ms Brooks and said,

“I definitely think Harry should be moved to the 3rd grade.”

Ms Brooks replied, “Mind if I ask him a few questions?”

The principal and Harry both agreed.

Ms Brooks asked, “What does a cow have four of that I only have two of?”

Harry (after a moment): “Legs.”

Ms Brooks: “What begins with C, ends in T, and is hairy and oval?”

The principal started to sweat profusely.

Harry: “A coconut.”

Ms Brooks: “What goes in hard and pink and comes out soft and sticky?”

Harry: “Bubblegum.”

The principal is busy dabbing his forehead.

Ms Brooks: “What does a man do standing up that a woman does sitting down and a dog does on three legs?”

Harry: “Shakes hands.”

The principal is trembling now.

Ms Brooks: “What word starts with an F, ends in a K, and means a lot of heat and excitement?'

Harry: “Firetruck.”

The principal breathes a huge sigh of relief and interjects, “Let’s just put Harry in the 3rd grade, Ms Brooks, shall we? On account of the fact that I got most of your questions wrong.”

MOLE I went to the doctor as I had a mole on my cock.

He couldn't do anything for me, but he said if it happened again, he'd report me to the RSPCA.

INFREQUENTLY An elderly couple, who were both widowed, had been going out with each other for quite a long time. Urged on by their friends, they decided it was finally time to get married.

Before the wedding, they went out to dinner and had a long conversation regarding how their marriage might work.

They discussed finances, living arrangements and so on.

Finally, the elderly gentleman decided it was time to broach the subject of any physical relationship they might have together.

"How do you feel about sex, Edna?" he asked, somewhat tentatively.

"Oh I would prefer it infrequently," Edna replied.

The old gentleman sat quietly for a moment, adjusted his glasses, then leaned over towards her and whispered, "Is that one word, or two?"

AN OLDER WOMAN I got chatting to an older woman down the pub last night.

She looked okay for a 60 year-old. In fact, she wasn't too shabby at all, and I found myself absentmindedly wondering about the prospect of her having a really hot daughter.

In my dreams, or so I thought.

So we drank some more, had a bit of a kiss and a cuddle, only then she asked me if I'd ever had a mother and daughter combo.

“Oh my,” said I, excitedly. “No, I haven’t. But I’d love to sample one.”

So she told me that tonight was my lucky night and we staggered back to her place after closing time.

When we arrived, she opened the front door, put the hall light on and shouted upstairs: “Mum, you still awake?”

Which was when I legged it.

WET FLOOR Friends for life

"I have a situation here. A woman has shot her husband for stepping on the kitchen floor she had just mopped clean."

"Have you arrested her?"

“No, not yet.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because the floor’s still wet."

BLONDE MAN HAS FINALLY ARRIVED...

A blonde man is in the bathroom and his wife shouts: "Did you find the shampoo?"

He answered, "Yes, but it's for dry hair, and I've just got mine all wet."

A blonde man shouts frantically into the phone, "My wife is pregnant and her contractions are only two minutes apart."

"Is this her first child?" asks the doctor.

"No," he shouts, "it’s her husband speaking."

A blonde man is driving home, drunk as a skunk. Suddenly he has to swerve to avoid a tree, then another, then another.

A copper pulls him over for driving erratically, so he tells the cop about all the trees in the road.

The cop says, "That's your air freshener swinging about in your line of vision, sir."

A blonde man's dog goes missing and he is in trauma. His wife says, "Why don't you put an ad in the paper?"

So he does, only two weeks later his dog is still missing.

"How did you word the advert?" his wife asks.

He replied, "Here, boy!"

A blonde man is on holiday in Rimini when his diving instructor asks him: "Do you know why scuba divers always fall backwards into the water?"

The blonde man replies: "Because if we fell forwards, we’d still be in the boat."

A friend told a blonde man, "Christmas falls on a Friday this year."

The blonde man replies, "Let's just hope it's not the thirteenth."

A neighbour told the blonde man living next door: "Please close your curtains next time you and your wife are having sex, because the whole street was watching and laughing at you yesterday afternoon."

The blonde man replied: "Well the joke's on you lot then, because I wasn’t even home yesterday afternoon.”

EBAY I’ve just put all my dogging equipment up for sale on ebay. Unfortunately, I haven’t had any bids so far, but plenty of people are watching.

A policeman calls the station on his radio.

"Is that you, Sarge?"

"Yes. What is it?"

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

The Edge 255_The Edge 172.qxd 18/12/2017 23:08 Page 23

EDGE

the

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The Edge 255_The Edge 172.qxd 18/12/2017 23:18 Page 24

EROTIC

Those of you in the know will recognise these three couch potatoes as Gogglebox stalwarts Lynne, Peter and son George, of Clacton-on-Sea. Only next time they’re on the box, readers, just have a sneaky peek at the plums on old Pete, because The Edge is truly fascinated by the size of ’em.

He always wears his black trackie-bottoms, but no wonder, because he certainly needs some very much needed extra Ballroom Dancing, as it were.

The Edge isn’t meaning to be rude. It’s purely an observation, alright?

Only now I know his plums are that massive, I truly reckon they deserve a show all of their own.

Come on though, own up and be brave enough to inform The Edge that it isn’t the only set of eyeballs to have noticed ‘Pete’s Power Package’ (yep, that’s what his own show should be called)?

I must confess to owning a light grey pair of trackie-botties, not dissimilar to Pete’s, and they’re ever so lovely and comfortable for slobbing about the house in, only I don’t quite fill ’em out the way Uncle Peter does his.

On a far more serious note, what a cracking couple they truly are. They have fostered over 68 children during the past 16 years (clap, clap, clap).

Each family that appears on Gogglebox apparently receives £1,500 per month plus all the take-aways they can eat. The amount is then split between family members however they see fit.

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Shoppers at a local Chelmsford supermarket, that cannot be named for legal reasons (doh), were recently shepherded outside of the store amid freezing conditions not experienced since the sinking of the Titanic in 1912 as a fire alarm sounded, provoking uncontrollable panic amongst shoppers who started running around like headless chickens (see above) for fear of being burnt to a cinder before they had even settled their January credit card statements.

Molly Coddle (72) from Chelmer Village, a regular shopper to the store, said: “Well, I’ve never known anything like it in all of my born days. I’d finally filled my trolley up with provisions, which takes me a while these days, and I was gingerly making my way to the check-out, when all of a sudden there was this loud ringing sound that just wouldn’t give over.

“Then we were herded out of the store into the most adverse weather conditions as though we were no better than farmyard animals and then forced to wait for an indefinite period, only I don’t know exactly for how long as me watch was still at the menders.”

Meanwhile, other shoppers weren’t so charitable. Bill Snot said: “I‘ll not be shopping there again, do you ’ear me? I’ve never known anything so ridiculous in all my life. There were clearly no fire as there weren’t any flames. It were just plain daft. If they want to test their fire alarm, they don’t want to be doing it when I’m busy shopping in there, I tell thee.”

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it was. A regressive step that threatened many of the hard won advances western society had made during the past 50 years.

…are doing it for themselves. So said two of the greatest female singers, Annie Lennox and Aretha. It says quite a lot when one name is good enough to identify someone. Annie Lennox is terrific and has a huge back catalogue of impressive work, but she’s not ‘Annie’ - she still needs a surname. On the other hand, everyone knows ‘Aretha’ always refers to the Franklin variety. Similarly there’s only one Mavis Staples, of course, a singular Bruce (Springsteen) and but one Elvis.

All these people, whether you like their music or not, have done enough to wend their way into the public consciousness to such an extent that a Christian name alone is good enough to identify them.

Anyway, that was but a laboured effort to introduce the theme of this month’s thoughts from the Californian sunshine.

This column has, of late, been fixated by the woes of the world brought about by the lurch to the far right of the political spectrum both here in the US and back there in the UK. Trump and Brexit are nothing but bad news for human decency on the face of it, but the green shoots of a recovery are at last appearing. At least they are over here - in the UK it’s not quite so obvious. Yet. Anyway, as an antidote to the doom and gloom, at the start of another year let’s offer a ray of hope for the future for those of us that don’t think the world was better in the 1950s.

It will not have escaped your attention that large numbers of men from all walks of public life have recently been sacked or felt compelled to resign because they have been caught behaving inappropriately.

Inappropriately. That’s a very bland word that is used as polite cover for what is actually abuse of power.

Men with God-like influence over young women’s

BUGGER. Work tomorrow.

BUGGER. Work tomorrow.

We cheered these women on, but wondered what happens next? It’s all very good going on marches, but how is that going to change anything? Well, we now have an answer.

careers have used that power to obtain, how shall we put this, favours. If you don’t play by my rules, you don’t have a job, has been the basic modus operandi.

At last, those that have suffered this abuse in silence for decades are finding a voice. Gaining strength from the number of sisters speaking out, the hashtag #metoo has become a powerful tool. This is yet more evidence that the progressive march of humanity towards a more decent and equitable world may have been temporarily halted by the likes of Trump and Farage, but it cannot be stopped for long.

The only people that find all this, er, exposure, a little discomfiting are those that like to portray themselves as Alpha Males. You know, the sort of man that thinks starting a fight in a pub is a good thing. Sadly, there are still too many of them around, but they will die off eventually - Darwinism guarantees it.

The day after Trump’s thinly attended inauguration a year ago, millions, no, scrub that, many millions of women took to the streets to protest that the pussygrabber was not their president. They saw the election of a self proclaimed Alpha Male for exactly what

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BUGGER. Work tomorrow.

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GET RESULTS BACK FROM QUACK

It seems the anger and sense of solidarity those marches engendered in the women present has resulted in solid action. A year on, and the number of women putting themselves forward as candidates in every single election from local school board appointees to Federal Senator has gone off the scale. Thousands of novice candidates are now up for election and they have very different policy priorities to the standard middle aged man in a grey suit. Those policies tend to be progressive, inclusive and aimed at helping the less fortunate in society, not billionaire property developers. It’s very encouraging.

Bringing those two themes together very nicely is a political advert running out here. In it, a woman called Dana Nessel, who is running for elected office in Michigan, has produced a TV advert referencing the number of politicians that seem to consider sexual abuse as a perk of the job. It goes; “Who can you trust not to show you their penis in a professional setting? Answer - the candidate without a penis”. That’ll get your attention. And hopefully a lot of votes for her.

There used to be a UK campaign for mobile phones that claimed the future was bright because it was Orange. Well, at the start of 2018, let’s change that a little and put some weight behind the thought that maybe the future is bright because it’s female.

Happy New Year.

TF4THAT. WHAT A HIDEOUS WEEK THAT WAS.

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WE HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY I bet a few of you are old enough to remember Steve Austin, the ‘Six Million Dollar Man’, aren’t you?

Even though I’m sure the demographic of my readership skews towards the younger generation, on account of me being so demonstrably ‘street’ and ‘down with it’, I’m also sure I attract readers who remember good old Lee Majors with affection.

But for those of you who don’t know, Steve Austin (his character) was rebuilt using bionic body parts after a horrific accident and then employed as a secret agent. As a child, I found him a bit crap, as he just ran everywhere in slow motion while they played some proper daft music, but I still dreamt of being a bionic superhero. In fact, I still do, which means I’m in luck, as good old science is coming to the rescue once again.

ME & MY adamantium skeleton

The Kingmeister reports GO TRUMP, GO!

Na-na-na-naaaaa, na-na-na-nana-na-na-naaaa! Hang on, I think that’s Emmerdale.

Human trials on the Ocumetrics bionic contact lenses are imminent and they believe they could be released to the public as soon as 2019. The bionic lenses will bestow vision three times as good as 20/20 vision, which not only negates the need for glasses, but will let us see further and with more clarity than ‘perfect’ human vision does.

I’m definitely all for getting rid of my glasses, as if I’m not losing them (sometimes even when sober) I’m constantly cleaning them, as the cat has developed a penchant for rubbing its nose across the lenses.

Okay, the fact that you need to have the lenses injected into your eyes might put some people off, but I think it’s worth it for the payoff of better than perfect vision for the rest of your life.

Trust me, I’ll be getting some of these as soon as they’re available and don’t cost as much as the GDP of Botswana.

As a nerd I love the fact that things like this are moving out of the realms of science fiction and becoming science fact, so I’ll always be happy to embrace every mad-scientist-crackpot invention they ever come up with.

After all, I’m not getting any younger, so the more bits they can work out how to replace, the better, so far as I’m concerned.

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I’m just going to come out and say it: I’ve become a fan of ‘The Donald’. I’ve come to appreciate his forthright and honest approach to things, the fact that he stands firmly behind his decisions, refusing to be swayed, and his almost zealous commitment to better the lives of the hard-working families of America.

Obviously, I’m not serious. As we all know, Trump is a degenerate buffoon that couldn’t find his own arse without using both hands and a map tattooed on his stomach. He’s racist, misogynistic and hell-bent on rolling back years of social, fiscal and medical reforms, all while feathering the nests of the millionaires and billionaires just like himself.

I wasn’t serious about Trump having the good qualities I ascribed to him just then, but I am serious when I say that I’ve become a fan of his and it’s exactly because he’s such a human skidmark that I’m getting to like him so very much, because I think Trump is going to push a lot of people closer to an edge I think we all need to get to.

We all know that the rich and powerful write the rules to suit themselves so they can get fat while the rest of us get by. This has been happening since day-one, but I don’t think anyone has been so blatant about it since the Magna Carter was signed. Trump is gleefully pissing on the backs of Americans and not even trying to pretend it’s raining.

He’s charging about trying to implement policy after policy that are obviously designed to make the rich even richer, putting people into positions of power that they’re wholly unsuited for and who sometimes have a significant investment in the very sector their department is supposed to regulate.

So I’ve come to like Trump because he’s stupid and egomaniacal enough to behave like he can do what he pleases to the ‘little people’, and I like to think that such arrogance and ignorance is going to make a lot more people realise that it hasn’t been rain they’ve been feeling down the backs of their collars for all these years, and I hope that maybe, just maybe, we’ll finally stop putting up with it.

NET NEUTRALITY You might not know what I’m talking about but, even though this is currently a US problem, I think it’s worth keeping our eyes on it. If they get away with it in America, then it wouldn’t surprise me to see The Maybot and her cronies tying to implement it over here.

Net neutrality means the internet is a level playing field. I can go to the website of a major corporation or a one-man-and-his-dog outfit and the internet will take me to those sites without any bias and in the same amount of time. I can also visit pretty much any website I like, talk to who I like, and find out whatever information I like.

Ending net neutrality means all that would go away. Under the new rules they’re trying to push through, www.majorcorporation.com could pay the internet service providers to prioritise their traffic over anyone else’s, so a visit to their website will take a couple of seconds, while a visit to www.onemanandhisdog.com could take a few minutes.

Guess which sites people will go to?

It also means that if your service provider decides they don’t like www.onemanandhisdog.com or any other website, then they can simply block it completely or, as can already be seen in other countries that don’t enjoy net neutrality, sell your internet access in ‘packages’, essentially making you pay separate charges for the privilege of getting email or access to social media sites.

None of us want to see this.

We’d actually have to talk to each other face-to-face.

The internet has its problems, we all know that, and I don’t think you could ever have a truly open space and a free flow of information that wouldn’t come with its own set of problems and be open to abuse, but I genuinely believe it’s worth it.

It’s one of the last level playing fields out there. It lets us all access whatever information and knowledge we want, whenever we want, which is enormously important and powerful on its own. It lets single people with a voice, vision or product to sell communicate and compete on a global scale.

Even without taking into account ready access to all that porn, the internet is a vitally important thing for us all, perhaps even a symbol of egalitarian freedom? What’s certain is that we can’t let such freedom be taken away from us in the name of profit, so keep your eyes and ears peeled and please be ready to shout as loud as you possibly can if this ugly idea ever rears its head in the UK.

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What’s good about being an armchair football supporter, without having any allegiance to any particular club, is that you don’t tend to come out with stupidly biased statements favouring one particular team when you’ve had a few too many down the pub, whilst nor does yet another defeat for the Swans impact upon your weekend. What’s more, I also think I enjoyed Leicester City’s championship winning season every bit as much as it was possible to, despite not being a dyed in the wool Fox. So the advantages are numerous.

So let The Edge recap club-by-club the first part of the 2017-18 season, and kick-off with Arsenal.

When oh when is manager Arsene Wenger going to (a) leave, and (b) consign his cock-awful grey thigh-length anorak to Room 101?

Superb that Bournemouth weren’t in the slightest bit panicked into dispensing with the services of manager Eddie Howe, despite a disappointing start to the campaign, when 25% of their peers had unloaded their gaffer before December.

Wonderful to see Brighton & Hove Albion in the top flight. Let’s hope they can stay there.

The Burnley story under Sean ‘I gargle with gravel, I do’ Dyche is the stuff of fairytales and long may they prosper. It’s grim up there tho’.

Abramovich clearly hasn’t been loose enough with the purse-strings where his manager is concerned and if Chelsea lose Conti, The Edge reckons they’ll soon live to regret it.

South London wide-boy Steve Parish surely made himself look the daftest football club owner in the entire league after sacking Frank de Boer after just 4 matches in charge of Crystal Palace.

So much for forward thinking and a whole new way of playing, replacing him with Woy. ‘Firefighter Sam’ must have laughed his cock off.

He normally takes over a club who are all but dead and buried before pulling off a Houdiniesque minor-miracle. But Everton were mid-table when he took charge and they are by far the biggest club side he has ever managed.

The Premiership may well prove to be a step too far for Huddersfield Town, but let’s hope not, because their victory over Manchester United at the Kirklees Stadium (Leeds Road in my day) was what fantasy football is truly all about.

Leicester City are playing, in flashes, like the team who won the title but two seasons ago. Not too sure how much LCP (little Claude Puel) has had to do with it, but they did pull the trigger on Craig Shakespeare ridiculously early.

When oh when is Jurgan Klopp going to get his teeth whitened, or at least destained a bit? Surely Liverpool ought to have written it into his contract as it’s even more desperately awaited than a brand new centre-back. No such problems up front with Mohamed Salah on fire.

Manchester City look unstoppable. They have more money to spend than any other club in the world. They have the greatest manager, bar none, on the planet. And in Kevin De Bruyne, they have arguably the greatest ginger footballer

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For Christ’s sake, Jose, just let the brakes off and let Manchester United be Manchester United.

With the crowds Newcastle United attract it’s only right and proper that the barcodes play their football in the top flight, but will their billionaire owner sell the club before the Fat Spanish Waiter decides to serve tables in another restaurant, as it were?

It appears to be their ingenious youth and scouting policy that is serving Southampton so well.

However, for having by far the worst kits in the Premiership, the Saints ought to have been docked ten points at the start of the season.

Incredibly passionate fans and the quicksilver Swiss garden-gnome Shaqiri ought to secure Stoke City’s survival in the top tier for yet another term. However, it’s incredibly annoying the way manager Mark Hughes ‘gasps air’ into his lungs whenever he’s being interviewed on tele.

Will ’The Undertaker’ (long black coat) Paul Clement be able to save Swansea this time around? It’s looking increasingly doubtful.

Are Tottenham Hotspur now every football fans favourite second club? It’s great to see them consistently challenging. Vitally important they hang on to not just Deli and ’Arry, but Toby Alderweireld too, as they missed him.

If Watford can keep hold of Marco Silva and continue to discover players the likes of Brazilian Richarlison, then the future could indeed be incredibly rosy once again for The Hornets.

The biggest mistake recent newly appointed manager Alan Pardew made after taking over at WBA was to shave off his distinguished looking goatee and tash before he’d even endured a single game in charge.

Finally, West Ham. Appreciate they have a lot of local fans, but dear oh dear, can things get any worse than a stadium they don’t want and a manager they don’t really fancy? Well yes, clearly, if they ultimately go down.

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The Edge 255_The Edge 172.qxd 18/12/2017 23:32 Page 28

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This Cambridge University undergraduate, who freely admits that she has “a considerable arse and thighs�, has recently been awarded a ‘Best Bum on Campus’ award after pooling almost a quarter of the total vote. “It’s a victory for body acceptance,� she says, after proving victorious ahead of slimmer, perter entrants.

She goes on to say: “I have worked hard to accept my body and I wanted to prove that to myself by doing something that I wouldn’t normally do, not even during Fresher’s Week. “I didn’t even expect to be in the top ten, let alone be the winner.�

Proving she has brains as well as a round, peachy ass, this particular student is reading law at Gonville & Caius and only decided to enter the competition when a professional photographer friend of hers (i.e. a guy who owned a camera) persuaded her to get her kit off. “Everyone who has seen my derriere has been so positive about it,� she concludes.

So what say we have a Best Derriere in Chelmsford competition, eh?

Get your bottom snapshots emailed to The Edge pronto for publication!

WHEN HARRY MET MEGHAN ’Arry is probably whispering into Meghan’s shell-like, “And apart from all the good causes I like to promote and support, you know I am seriously minted, right, Makka?�

But good luck to ’em, says the team here at Headroom.

Apparently our ’Arry proposed to MM by getting down on one knee whilst her favourite dish of mushy peas and faggots was simmering on the stove. She (allegedly) told The Edge, “I am really looking forward to appearing on mugs and tea towels and being treated like proper royalty.�

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MOTCO

Man on the Clapham Omnibus

ENDORSEMENTS There are very few rules pinned to the notice board in the fabled ECWL (Edge club writers lounge), but two key ones are pretty tight. No mention of the ‘C’ word by any columnists in all but the December editions, and no Happy New Year nonsense either.

With that in mind, I have decided to continue the shopping type theme of last month and the renewed efforts in January to relieve us of yet more cash from our already aching wallets and purses. Which is why we are going to look at endorsements. No, not those we all have cluttering our driving licenses these days, due to those unreasonable yellow pole mounted cash cows - oh sorry, I er, I mean road safety devices - but celebrity endorsements. Of course, it could be argued that the term ‘celebrity’ is often applied a little too generously to the individuals concerned, who are encouraging us all to spend a bit more, but that’s an entirely separate argument.

There are two camps in play here. The mega star endorser, say, for example, Becks, or Tiger Woods in his heyday, and the teatime show or satellite channel ‘star’ plugging garage doors. The trouble is, with superstars, the advertising success is huge. But equally, the other side is the crash on the rocks, which can be even more spectacular. At his height, Tiger Woods endorsed over ten companies at once. Now people may feel that a celebrity will endorse anything to make a buck, and they’d probably be right. Because let’s face it, poor old Tiger didn’t need the money - until he got caught a’lyin’ and a’cheatin’. His exwife and her bank manager were ever so grateful Tiger was ‘working’ so hard.

But did it make us buy more products? Maybe not to make us better golfers.

Although perhaps it had the reverse effect and a few blokes out there thought they may have more luck with girls if they used the same products as Tiger, which is not quite what the ad guys paid millions of dollars for.

Then we get to the other end of the scale and the likes of Tommy ‘Ground Force’ Walsh flogging Crocodile garage doors. Was it Tommy’s endorsement that persuaded me to purchase this item, or was it the salesman doing a 22nd December last minute aggressive deal at a favourable price two years back?

You decide. And is it the picture of Charlie ‘lovely dimmocks’ Dimmock on her range of gardening equipment which makes us purchase such wares, in some cases with a little imagination drifting back in her heyday? Probably, yes.

There is nothing new (as always) about celebrity endorsements. Early records show that throughout the 1760s royal endorsements were used as a type of

shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

celebrity branding to promote products. The first celebrity endorsements used were believed to be by Josiah Wedgwood & Sons, producers of pottery and chinaware. The savvy boys used royal endorsements as a marketing device to show value in the company and promote their product. These days we have the Royal Warrant for goods and services provided to the royal household, so the Queen does the job for them in some ways.

The other wheeze where celebrity endorsements are concerned is the freebie.

Let’s talk about the celebrity travelogue. In the past year there have been several TV documentary trips around India with each ‘celeb’ promising to take you to the ‘real’ or ‘undiscovered’ parts of India. So does the sight of a celeb staying at the 5-star Taj Moghul Palace hotel at grillions per night persuade you that you are going to get exactly the same experience for some all inclusive bargain holiday for 500 quid off a Travelasdvisorzoo website. No, because we all know that you will not be getting the same room as (insert) Caroline Quentin/Joanna Lumley/Stephen Fry/Paul Merton. Instead you will be getting a view of the kitchen or the car-park.

I honestly think we are all getting a bit cheesed off with all of the national tourist boards providing all expenses paid cliché ridden road trips to celebs/stars because what they are offering rarely live up to what we ultimately purchase ourselves. The only exception to this is (Sir) Billy Connolly, of course.

I have also been thinking about personally issuing a ‘Mottmark’ for quality etc., but am having little success in getting local traders to cough up anything worth having. Although one canny local supplier has offered me a lifetime supply of hair gel, knowing full well he was on safe ground from a cost basis standpoint.

It pays to be choosy though. I even turned down one opportunity when I was asked if I would stand up for Viagra, though declined as the contract terms were too stiff.

Yours aye,

Page 29

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TOTALLY TRACIE Costa Capital Wow, Happy New Year!

Give yourself a pat on the back for making it through to the other side.

Did you know that 2018 will see Chelmsford as the Costa capital of the world with a record breaking thirteenth coffee shop set to open this year? We have long surpassed Cheltenham, who once held the record with a mere 11 outlets, but Chelmsford has now left them standing.

But is it a good thing?

I quite like a coffee shop. As more and more pubs are closing down, coffee shops seem to have taken over as social places to sit and, well, waste time. I love sitting in a coffee shop, savouring a nice hot cuppa and reading a book or a magazine. I don’t really go a lot on people-watching though. Those sorts always seem to have nothing better to do than spend their spare time watching other people and pulling sour, disapproving faces.

When I lived in the USA everyone used to rush to work carrying their coffee and now it seems we are following suit. These days morning trains are packed with people wedged in every which way, with most commuters slurping away at the start of their day.

What would our parents have made of this though? In our house, it was the tea pot that was always on the boil. We rarely had coffee.

Occasionally, my mum would buy a bottle of Camp Coffee, which was some thick black goo that you mixed with milk and water. I also remember my parents had a teasmade.

Every night they would set it up, fill up the kettle part with water, load it with teabags and milk, and then set the alarm in the hope of waking up to a nice refreshing brew. Whereas in reality, all that happened was they had half a cup of stewed lukewarm tea that tasted vile while the rest ran down the bedside table. But if you had said to my mum, “Let’s stop off and grab a coffee on the way to work,” she would think we’d all gone sex mad!

In my mum’s world, coffee was always a bit risqué. “Never go for a coffee with a man,” she would say to me, “as it might give him ideas.”

Quite what those ideas would be I never found out, as I never went. In later life, being invited back to

Page 30

someone’s house ‘for a coffee’ immediately set the mind in motion and conjured up all manor of naughty things. Whereas being invited back for a cup of tea merely created visions of chintz, the best china and the best behaviour.

So whilst I do enjoy a cup of coffee, thirteen Costa’s in one town is a bit much, don’t you think? We don’t want it to be to the detriment of all our quirky independent coffee and tea shops, surely. I mean, how much coffee can one town drink?

No wonder that boy in Chelmsford made national news for urinating off the top of the multi-storey car park. I must confess, I’ve even been tempted myself at times, as there’s never a public convenience handy when you need one. So with all these coffee shops, there needs to be more loos, surely?

We also need to support all of our local independent traders and numerous quirky shops too, because they are what makes Chelmsford unique. If we don’t, we’ll simply become just another town centre filled with all the same old shops as every other town centre.

So embrace our uniqueness and keep Chelmsford quirky, is what I say.

Trending Now I was reading that 2018 will be the year that heralds change. Yes, 2018 is set to be the year we all become ‘far more mindful of the planet’ and far more savvy when it comes to recycling. In terms of health, forget Bake Off and sugary cake. We are going to see an explosion (in more ways than one) of ‘gut friendly foods’. Probiotics is where it’s at right now. Pickling and preserving is also going to become very trendy this year.

Plus fearless fashion, where anything goes, teamed with oversized earrings and wide legged flares.

Berets for men, and socks that rock.

Ladies, brows are so last year. This year it’s longer lashes than ever before. Meanwhile Dermal Rollers (Google it) are the next line in antiageing, together with shaggy perms (OMG, I’m still trying to repair my hair from the last decade of decedent curls).

Kids toys will all be made from trees (good luck with that one) as plastic is the devil.

And it’s ginger anything. Yes, hair, clothes, cars. Oh and marriage is spanking red hot too, all thanks to Prince Harry, who has made being a ginga a winna.

Cheer up, it could be worse. See you in Costa with your flares and your bottled-orange perm.

Tracie123@aol.com

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