ISSUE NO: 306 www.theedgemag.co.uk Telephone 01245 348256 Mobile: 077 646 797 44 shaun@theedgemag.co.uk SEPTEMBER 2022‘THE CHELMSFORD FANZINE’ EDGEthe THURSDAYSHOTWING CHALLENGE! SHWINGS.CO.UK
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I’ve just finished reading Troubled Blood, the fifth and final Strike novel (he’s a private detective you may have seen on TV), written by Robert Galbraith, which is merely a pseudonym for the incredibly talented J.K Rowling, and it feels as though I’m in a totally different kind of mourning over that too. Do you ever feel that way when you finish reading a really good book, readers?
WALKING FOR HEALTH
CHEATERS I’d completely forgotten to watch the final episode of Cheaters. How, I don’t know. But I have now and OMG, what a powerful ending. And damn right too.
CYCLING IN SWANAGE
The Edge Editor’s Column Page 4 The Edge 01245 348256
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‘ONLY ME’ ‘Only Me’ was the nickname I gave to my father-in-law as he was the epitome of one of Harry Enfield’s characters. One day I remember coming downstairs from working up in my office and there he was, large as life, in our house (although to be fair, he did have a spare set of keys). “Only me,” he’d jovially say. But I won’t be hearing those words again as he sadly passed away on 2nd August in Broomfield Hospital with both of his daughters sat beside him, holding his hands. As you’d expect, Mrs Edge was amazing, being at his bedside for 14 straight hours on one particular day, simply because he was her dad and she loved him to bits. Of course, I could write much more about him and easily fill up this entire column, but then you didn’t know him, so what would be the point.
In the interests of personal health, I’ve just got back from walking the entire circumference of Chelmer Village in 29 degree heat. It took me just under and hour and I passed but 3 people on my side of the road, and one of those was sat in the shade in a bus shelter. How bloody boring was it though (need you ask)? As Edge columnist Phil Claydon says, “I won’t be passing that way again.”
TROUBLED BLOOD
HAM & PICCALILLI A ham and piccalilli sandwich. Oh yes, now you’re talking. WEATHER Yes, we Brits do love to talk about and complain about the weather, don’t we. But perhaps that’s because it’s not consistent?
CODE: 404 Something else we’ve recently gotten into (as we’ve needed cheering up, that’s for sure) is Daniel Mays and Stephen Graham in Code: 404 which is plain daft, but in such a refreshing way, the likes I have not seen since Green Wing. It’s on the Sky Comedy channel and no, we don’t have Sky, but we somehow seem to get it through our deal with Virgin.
LOVE & HATE Love Southampton’s new home kit. Hate Scott Parker’s idiotic clobber.
Edge columnist Phil Claydon will back be up on this when I say that May is my favourite time of year. Why any of you would want to be outside of Blighty during May astonishes me as that’s the month you see most change, from the miserable grey of winter to vibrant colours springing into bud. It’s such a beautiful month as temperatures change and you gain an early tan. But what we endured for the first fortnight of August was simply disgusting. Certainly I’ve never known such temperatures at home as those. It was uncomfortable in the extreme - like cooking in your car - while it totally buggered the lawn and even many of our well tended plants and trees became burnt and frazzled. So you can stick July and August. I’d happily experience May all year round.
It was good to see the back of August and now I’m looking forward to taking our bikes down to Swanage the last week of September and hopefully just chilling out after our very sad news.
Roy Douglas Brooks 5.3.36 - 2.8.22
Likewise Edge columnist Billy Hinken’s taking his wife and two daughters to Devon for a staycation, so read all about that next month, as it’ll be a drastic change from Ibiza! I’ve also promised Mrs Edge a long weekend taking in Harrogate, Staithes and Whitby before this year is out.
TWENTY SIX YEARS! If anyone had told me that when I was trundling off to my printers, aged a sprightly 35 and still heavily into playing squash, that I’d be still doing it (but not playing squash, unfortunately) twenty six years later, would I have believed ’em? Would I buggery! I wasn’t even sure I’d get issue number 2 off the ground, let alone 305 others. So here’s to yet another EDGE BIRTHDAY and I for one will definitely drink to that.
This momentous occasion (momentous for what, exactly?) occurred at lunchtime on Friday 19th August. And that’s it. I honestly cannot think of another word to say about the matter. What’s more important, only I’d forgotten all about it, is that this particular issue signifies that The Edge has now been published for 26 years.
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As regards weight, sure, I could do with ‘dropping a few pounds’, but I know that, so nothing too drastic. Alcohol? Ah, the dreaded alcohol. So I confessed my sins and was informed to abstain for two days every week - not necessarily two consecutive days - to help give my liver a chance to recover from the beating I am obviously giving it, though it ought to have gotten used to it by now. But unfortunately it doesn’t, so there we go.. Diet? I’ve never been one for junk food and I’ve always eaten pretty well, so nothing too much to worry about there. (“Oh really?” coos Mrs Edge. “Well what about those jelly’s you like? And dark chocolate’s still chocolate, you know.”) Then it was a quick blood test (I always look away as the needle goes in) to check for prostrate cancer, amongst other things, which I like to have once a year (the results of which will reach me shortly). And finally my lil ‘poo test kit’ for colon cancer will apparently once again reach me through the post (I think last year’s was the first time I received one of those, but I need to be tested annually for it from now Theseon).tests are free via your local surgery, readers, so if you’ve reached the age of 60, like I unfortunately did last summer, and you haven’t had one yet, then I urge you to book yourselves in pronto, as, quite frankly, it’d be daft not to. I don’t want to end up like my father-in-law and what I saw of his, in the end, swift demise, while confined to a hospital bed. I want to go serenely in my sleep...after a skinful.
Because of the father-in-law, and then my brother-in-law, who’s ten years younger than me, telling me he’d just been and had his annual health (M.O.T.) test, I thought I’d better shake-a-leg and get booked in at the quacks myself. So I did, and was pleasantly surprised at just how quickly I managed to get an appointment.
“It happens,” said the young lad in a burgundy two-piece and a pair of Crocs who was giving me the once-over. ‘Great,’ thought I. ‘I can’t wait for my nose and ears to start growing.’
First up was the fact I’ve shrunk. I am now officially 5’ 10”, whereas ‘in my prime’ I used to be just a quarter-of-an-inch short of 6’. But then I’ve known as long as 30 years ago, when I had to give up playing footie due to having to see a chiropractor after every weekend fixture if the pitch had been hard, that I’d ‘lost an inch’ due to X-rays confirming a loss of cartilage in my lower spine.
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For those of you who have read my columns for a while, you will know that we always enjoy a few annual camping adventures. This summer, for the first time, we ambitiously planned a twin-centre trip with my stepdad, Baggins, in his infamous tourer.
I have to admit that when we reached the summer solstice with barely more than a few consecutive days of proper summer weather, I was starting to panic that summer 2022 was going to be a washout (quite literally). Fortunately, I couldn’t have been more wrong, and since the ‘proper summer’ arrived, I do feel like we have made the most of every single moment.
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It’s an ambitiously intimate squeeze, with Grandad and the 3 kids in the van and Dave and I camped out in the awning, but we make it work.
I always look forward to summer. As much as I love pumpkin spice, crispy leaves underfoot, Halloween, Christmas lights and the magic of Santa, nothing nurtures my soul quite like long summer days, balmy evenings, beach days, trips away, and feeling the sun on my face.
The first three days were spent at Vauxhall Park in Great Yarmouth. We camped there last year for a week and had a brilliant time (apart from the fact that Dave was sadly struck down with a violent stomach bug on the last night). If green fields, beautiful views and open spaces are your preference, then Vauxhall definitely isn’t for you. But if you want an action packed, full-on British holiday park experience, without having to sell a kidney on eBay to afford to hire a static caravan, then it certainly ticks all the boxes. It’s also the sort of place where if you want to play music in the evening, you are far more likely to be offered a beer from your neighbours than any complaints. Our kids thoroughly enjoyed the pool, the waterslides, the entertainment every night in the clubhouse, the huge play area, and the on site ice-cream parlour, while Grandad secretly enjoyed being constantly harassed by 3 kids who ate the entire contents of his van and subsequently filled up his toilet twice a Itday.was all fun and games until the final night when my daughter, Olivia, projectile vomited all over Grandad (and his bed) at 1.00am. Not the greatest experience when you have no access to a washing machine, no spare duvets/pillows, and in Grandad’s unfortunate case, only one pair of pyjamas. Also not ideal just hours before the day you have to pack up what felt like a small town and move on to your next campsite. The check-out time was allegedly 10am, but nobody seems to move off camping pitches until at least midday. For us to be off by 10am, in all honesty, I think we’d have had to start packing in the middle of the night.
The next site was one of our favourites, where we return time and again, which is Waldegraves on Mersea Island. I think we surpassed ourselves this year however, arriving in style with the tourer, two cars, one poorly looking child, and a bin liner of sick covered clothes and bedding. While Dave and Grandad set about rebuilding our ‘town’, I set off to locate the on site laundry room. Half a bottle of washing gel and a fiver (!) solved the problem, and once again order was restored. Waldegraves is slightly less full-on than Vauxhall, with more than an inch of space between you and your camping neighbours, but it does still have a great outdoor pool, play area, restaurant and clubhouse for those wanting entertainment and facilities. However, most people in the camping and touring fields seem to make their own entertainment and there were several full on gazebo raves every evening, which were the source of much people-watching fascination. Unfortunately, the legendary Dave had to leave us in Mersea and return to work (for a rest) so I had my first experience of three nights as a single parent (with a poorly child in the mix). I am not quite sure how those permanently flying solo ever manage to actually relax, and/or hold onto their sanity, but I am just pretty chuffed that I managed to keep everyone alive. The prospect of parenting 3 children (and Grandad) as a solo act was more daunting than actually doing it, even though the kids were increasingly more tired and aggy through later nights and musical beds. The lovely weather made all the difference and we made the most of the outdoor pool, which aside from the feeling of bobbing around in ‘human soup’ could well have been abroad. Waldegraves is located right on the beach, so one day when it felt like we were on the surface of the sun, we wandered down there and even though I’m not usually a fan of swimming in the sea (in the UK anyway), I was the first one in. It was amazingly refreshing and I was actually hot enough not to care whether any jellyfish were lurking about. The kids were a tad more apprehensive though, until I reassured them that all was well, whilst fervently hoping they wouldn’t notice that one had just washed up on the beach but a few metres away from us. Another highlight of our Mersea trip was meeting up with my dad (aka the Old Seadog) and stepmum for a short sail on their boat, Team Spirit. It was a mini adventure in itself catching the Trot Boat, which is a large wooden motorboat that you get from the end of the West Mersea jetty that takes you out to the sailboats moored in the bay (like a water taxi). We had a lovely afternoon sail with perfectly calm weather and Dad even cracked out his guitar to croon a few numbers. Unfortunately my youngest monster (who suffers terribly from motion sickness) filled up a few bowls, and then missed and covered his clothes as well, so one of my kids was wearing noticeably less clothes on the return Trot Boat journey. As always, a great time was had by all in Mersea. The only (slight) downsides were the lack of invites to any of the gazebo raves and having to constantly avoid the world’s most depressing man camped next to us with his son, who’s cup of life was unquestionably bone dry, due to perpetually choosing a stream of seemingly psychotic women with whom to share his world (although I couldn’t help but point out that ‘he’ was the common denominator in it all).
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Finally, stop ‘titting each other up’ (see main photograph, above) seemingly every chance you get (‘copping a feel’ really ought to be a bookable offense) and take a leaf out of the men’s game, as you don’t see Harry Kane squeezing Raheem Sterling’s ‘Johnson’, do you?
But life wouldn’t be life if it didn’t keep on kicking you in the bollocks, would it? Have to say, I preferred our semi-final encounter with Sweden, which I watched alone, as I didn’t have the wife and the sister-in-law (who both knew the score) doing their best, but failing miserably, to conceal the fact that England had won the match 3 hours previously, as we all tucked into some curry dishes bought from that lovely mini-Waitrose by the filling station on the way back from the hospital. That semi-final was the first time I had ever watched any ladies football (other than when you channel-hop and maybe catch some for just a few minutes) and I watched the match in its entirety. And, in a word, I have to admit I was surprisingly impressed and whooping with joy when Alessia Russo scored the all important third with an audacious back-heel to book England’s passage into the final. Our ladies’ skill factor, accuracy of passing, fitness levels and overall ability was a complete eye-opener for me and I’m really looking forward to (hopefully) watching their friendly against World Champions USA on Friday 7th October. However, judging by these images - and some revealing shower scenes that have been doing the rounds via WhatsApp - it’s crystal clear that a few things need to change. For starters, The Edge doesn’t care if you have just scored the winning goal in a Euros final, unless you’re stacked like Carol Vorderman, keep your bloody shirts on, girls. And if you want to take photo’s of yourselves showering (naked, obviously) and other extra curriculum activities, then make sure you filter out who the ‘rat in the camp’ is that’s leaked ’em.
I was looking forward to watching the ladies final ‘live’ versus our old adversaries, the Krauts, but instead spent 9 hours in Broomfield hospital with Mrs Edge at the father-in-law’s bedside as, for the seventh successive day and night, he fought for his life.
Footnote: Forty-eight hours after this match had kicked-off, bless his heart, the father-in-law lost his fight for life.
jackyjoanhiggins@aol.com
Having finally reached The Windy City, my base for 4 days of bingeing all things Chicago was a suite on the 19th floor of the Whitehall Hotel on Delaware Place. It’s a great central location and only 5 minutes stroll from the Oak Street Beach. Few people imagine sand, waves, and water as far as the eye can see when they think of Lake Michigan, but it’s there! Downtown Chicago runs right next to the shore and offers the contrasting backdrop of nature for the city of Speakingskyscrapers.as
Next on my list was watching the Cubs play at Wrigley Field (famously aka 1060 West Addison, as on Elwood’s Illinois drivers license). Over a century old the ballpark is unique and has plenty of tradition. I had a great time drinking cold beers and eating hot dogs, but I probably stuck out as a tourist, not knowing the words to the traditional ‘Take me out to the ballpark....’ chorus sung at the seventh-inning stretch.
Just like the buildings, food is a big part of Chicago. For research purposes alone, I felt compelled to sample some of the local classics, including the famous butter crust deep dish pizzas, Italian beef sandwich, Jibarito sandwich and, of course, hot dogs. All seemed to pair effortlessly with a couple of pints of the ubiquitous Goose Island IPA.
Top of my ‘must do’ list was to go and see some live Chicago Blues. I booked online and headed up to Kingston Mines at 2548N Halsted St. where the Corey Dennison Band were headlining. What a show and what a venue, with an impressive range of food and beers. Dennison played to a packed house, walking the floor and playing amongst the appreciative punters. A great memory.
CHICAGO
The views were great, but as seems standard in the US, all the iconic giant buildings compete to offer a unique way to induce fear and nausea in visitors. On its 94th floor observation deck, people pay good money to stand on a glass fronted shelf which then suddenly extends and tilts out at a 30 degree angle, leaving the visitor staring down at the concrete 1,000ft below. Not for me, thanks. My four days were pretty hectic, but a great way to relax and unwind was hiring a bike and taking a ride for a few hours along the cycle tracks amongst the yacht marinas and parklands on Lake Michigan shoreline.
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So if cities are your thing, then let me assure you that Chicago is a fascinating one to visit. Sadly, people will alarm you with dire warnings about its reputation for crime and violence, but by simply exercising common sense I felt totally safe at all times. I actually wish I’d had a longer stay. Perhaps I could have ventured ‘up north on Lake Wazzapamani’ to spend one night only at The Palace Hotel and watched the fabulous show band and review. Edge of the World travel correspondent. Embarks on assignments in a futile effort to preserve his sense of youth, always acknowledging that he ‘Won’t pass this way again’.
The Navy Pier was definitely worth a visit. Over 1km long, the pier started life as a shipping pier, but was also a prison during World War II and later a Naval training centre. Nowadays it’s simply a fun place to spend a few hours and it features a fairground, lots of quality restaurants, a Shakespeare theatre, beer gardens and boat trips out into Lake HugelyMichigan.popular with tourists are the many river cruises to view the city’s countless skyscrapers. With a running commentary to explain the history and various architectural styles and with the buildings picked-out against a cloudless blue sky, it was a great way to spend a couple of hours learning about the city. But to get up close to one of the giant buildings, I took a trip to the top of The John Hancock Center (100-storey 1,127 feet skyscraper located on North Michigan Avenue).
In last month’s column I left you with my reflections of my latest visit to New York. The next stop, on my US adventure, was Chicago, a city I’d longed to visit for many Mindfulyears. that we’re all now destined to frazzle under the burning skies of impending climate Armageddon, I opted to boost my tagskryt credentials and make the journey via railroad. Booking my Amtrak ticket for the 959 mile/24 hour journey, I figured my troubled conscience and Greta might be appeased with the reduced CO² emissions. But in truth, I was just as pleased to be avoiding frustrating queues, inflated prices and hours of waiting time in soulless airport terminals. I’ve had great times traveling by train throughout Europe and have always loved being able to relax and observe passing landscapes and life through large windows from a comfortable seat with plenty of legroom. Even better when conversations strike up between fellow travellers, often over a drink from the buffet car. The journey from New York’s Penn Station to Chicago’s Union Station didn’t disappoint; there was some great scenery en route north along the Hudson River to Albany, New York’s state capital, before heading west to Rochester on the southern shore of Lake Ontario and then all along the southern shores of Lake Erie, before finally reaching Chicago on Lake Michigan. Punctual it wasn’t. The journey time was nearer 27 hours and I was to learn that the US rail network prioritises freight. Consequently, passenger trains always give way to freight trains. Stops were frequent, often for what seemed an age, as I watched huge lines of freight cars pass on trains which were well over a mile long.
someone who’s watched The Blue Brothers far too many times to mention over the past 40 years, this visit felt something of a pilgrimage. For me, the 1980 musical comedy classic has always been one of my go-to feelgood movies. Maybe I was joining Jake and Elwood “on a mission from God”?
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Sorry to say, but if you're looking for definite answers, then you won't find them here. The time needed for you to achieve your fitness goals depends on how much time and effort you're willing to put in when you show up for a strength or conditioning session at Mibootcamp (see front cover), or preparing healthy meals to fuel your body on a consistent basis. We have no idea how long it will take for your results to show, and when referring to results, it could be anything that's personal to you, such as a PB, the visibility of your abs, or even the number on the Thescales.most critical factor that determines your progress isn't necessarily the strength method being used or the latest Mediterranean, DASH, KETO or Flexitarian diets. It’s simply consistency. And when it comes to the timeline, we’re not talking about days or weeks; it could seriously be months of hard work and effort. Results take time, and you need that time to get stronger, build muscle, and lose fat. Consistency forms habits and it’s all about those habits and behaviours that you perform automatically, which are grounded in consistency. They aren’t the results of genetics or random chance. They are created from your behaviour, accumulated over repeated instances. Relying on your habits to get you to a training session is much better than simply sitting around and waiting for motivation to hit you, making the same lame excuses, or being an ostrich and sticking your head in the sand. At Mibootcamp, their philosophy stems from the founding belief that training should be empowering, whilst also maintaining the important social element. They place as much emphasis on wellness as they do on fitness and wholeheartedly believe that life is all about balance and consistency. Exercise is something that enhances your life and makes you stronger, both physically and mentally. Their training is designed around a sole purpose; to improve each member’s individual performance by consistently tracking, testing and adapting over Theytime.
have created a community that is non-judgmental, relaxed and open to all. You can be as sociable as you want to be. Every day is different. You can either come and smash out a strength session or you can turn up and take part in one of their group classes. But the main thing is you simply need to show up, work hard, be consistent and trust the process. You'll be amazed by your own Visittransformation.mibootcamp.co.uk if you would like to book a 7 day FREE TRIAL or explore other membership options.
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It’s going down Church Road in Boreham. I’d just cycled there, to A.G. Smith’s Butchers (hello, brothers Andrew and Steve) specifically to procure some of my favourite Welsh Dragon sausages - I honestly thought their Cumberland's were the best, but if you haven’t already tried their Welsh Dragon, then do yourselves a favour, as they are without doubt my favourite flavoured bangers. But homeward bound and freewheeling down Church Road, into a hideously warm breeze, I just had to pull over to capture this scene as there isn’t an electricity pylon in sight, and boy does The Edge despise electricity pylons. In fact, it could almost be Suffolk, couldn’t it? The sausages were specifically for a barbecue with me long lost mate Keith Rogers and his sidekick Michelle, who’ll be coming round to ‘Edge Towers’ to sample/savour ’em.
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Keith’s a former cabbie/director of a firm called ATC cabs that used to operate in Chelmsford and the two of used to ride many a London-toBrighton, London-to-Cambridge, London-to-Southend or London-toWindsor cycle route together, so it’ll be great to see him after all these years, as he used to be my bestie. He’s retired these days though and ‘living the dream’. I wish I bloody well was...but it’s coming.
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When they say ‘twin’, it really ought to be equal, didn’t it?
Not only that, but I often get woken up by one of his blunderbuss farts (and they are bloody deep and loud buggers) at 03:00am, which simply isn’t good for my heath, nor my nerves.
Rather than yours truly having to poke up with a sofa-bed beneath the window, whilst Lurch lords it over me in a double-bed whenever we stay overnight on one of our away-day surveying trips?
Let me put it another way; when you’re stood up having a shower, you’re generally facing the shower head, right? But due to the slope on the sides of the bath, you honestly cannot get your legs open wide enough so that you can give the inner-cheeks of your bum a reet good sponging, or indeed your ‘walnut’ itself. So you are thus forced to turn sideways in order to achieve “minimum effort, maximum satisfaction” as Gino D’Acampo is often want of saying, presumably whilst washing his own Italian bits, or coming up with a tasty bowl of pasta or plate of pizza. Can you tell where it is, readers?
In short, the camber’s all wrong.
However, what I wanted to bring to your attention and find out if any of you have noticed the same, readers, is that some of the baths in Premier Inn rooms are, well, ‘F2C’ (far too curved).
For more information visit www.chelmerfineart.com or call one of the gallery team on 01245 456677.
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‘King of Cool’ artist JJ Adams will be making a ‘live’ (well, he’s not dead yet by a long chalk) gallery appearance at Chelmer Fine Art in New London Road, Chelmsford, on Saturday 10th September between 1pm-4pm where his latest collection of limited edition and original artworks will be showcased.
Plymouth born JJ likes to transform celebrity images and photographs by adding his own unique twist. He has worked in and around tattoos having been an apprentice at Wildfire Tattoos in Cape Town. His artwork creates talking points, twisting your favourite icons and even famous buildings and films into ways they’ve never been seen JJ’sbefore.previous collections have featured Big Ben, Marilyn Monroe, Sean Connery, Batman and Darth Vader to name but a few. His take is to ‘transform the norm’, bringing artwork bang up-to-date, often with a satirical edge (for example, JJ covered Her Majesty the Queen in tatts while one of his pieces featured Princess Diana taking a selfie).
JJ’s instantly recognisable artworks has seen him amass followers from all around the globe, along with a multitude of celebrity collectors. His ‘sometimes controversial’ artworks have been featured in the likes of GQ and Vogue magazines and he has also been commissioned by no less than Bang & Olufsen and Rolls Royce; his limited editions often sell out within hours as original artworks are always highly sought after.
Chelmer Fine Art is an independent gallery in Chelmsford celebrating their 22nd anniversary with owner Andrew Bresgall and his team looking to welcoming customers both new and existing to the wonderful world of JJ Adams. The gallery is situated at 6 New London Road, Chelmsford, CM2 0SW.
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As the day turned to night and the evening guests arrived to continue the celebrations, it was lovely to see so many people forgetting about any worries in their lives and letting their hair down, simply enjoying being in in each other’s company, even if they’d never met them until just a few hours earlier. Like it was for us. We only got chatting to a lovely lady called Kate because she seemed to love my wife’s dress, which broke the ice and got us communicating. And Amanda, who photo-bombed us at the dinner table, so naturally we then got chatting to her and her husband, who I must say is the most chilled-out person I have ever met in my life (then again,he is from New Zealand!).
Up The Irons! ’Til next time, folks. The (sweaty) Polak
FFS
As with most weddings, there were a few extra things going on, apart from simply the DJ. The Dewar’s had hired a photo-booth for guests to dress-up in wigs, costumes, props and snap some pics to go in a special day photo album, alongside messages for the happy couple. They also had a caricature artist going around sketching the guests so we could take the drawings home with us for memories of the day. Naturally he asked me if I was related to Daniel Levy (the Tottenham Hotspur chairman).
At first I genuinely couldn't work out why he had asked me that? Only then it hit me and I instinctively knew what was coming next and what particular feature he was going to be focusing on. And lo and behold, when he’d finished sketching and showed us the result, my nose literally took up half of the picture. As I started to laugh at it, the artist wiped his brow and said, "Phew! I'm glad your not offended by my drawing."
x Page 14 The Edge 077 646 797 44 POLITICALLYINCORRECT 11TH AUGUST 2022
That was the day we saw our friends James and Lindsay get married on what turned out to be an incredibly hot day. Now being that me and the better half are getting closer to our fifties than our thirties, wedding invites are something we receive less and less frequently through the post these days. Sadly, I think I've attended more funerals than weddings over the past few years. So when given the chance to get ‘dressed up’ comes around, especially to celebrate love, rather than loss, we very much look forward to getting our gladrags on. However, this ‘Big Occasion’ turned out to be on a day when the temperature was absolutely soaring, like it was for the vast majority of the first part of August, but it still wasn't going to deter me from getting ‘poshed up’ for The Dewar’s grand ceremony. Now the sensible thing would have been to go out and buy a linen suit to help try to stay cool. However, two things stopped this 1.happening.Ididn'thave the luxury or the budget to be able to do this 2. I'm a man, meaning I don't do ‘sensible things’ and I was determined to use what I already had, regardless of whether it made me feel like I was walking around wearing the Sahara desert. So that was it. Out came the classic three-piece which (I'm not going to lie) felt like a 30-piece once we had climbed out of our lovely air-conditioned car at the venue and back into the scorchingly hot However,weather.oncethe proceedings got underway, the feeling of being all hot and bothered was replaced by feelings of true happiness and joy for the newlyweds, and also a slight tinge of sadness at losing yet another good man to a sentence of life with a ball and chain (nudge, nudge, wink wink, yes obviously I am joking).
To which I replied, "I was more offended that you thought I was a Spurs supporter!"
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Page 16 The Edge 077 646 797 44 THE MAGIC ROUNDABOUT
The Magic Roundabout ran from 1965 to 1977 and used the footage of the French stop motion animation show Le Manege Enchante, but with completely different scripts and characters.
Needless to say, Total Film ranked it the 45th worst children’s movie of all time.
In October 1966, when it was moved to an earlier children’s viewing time for a period, adult viewers complained in their hordes to the BBC, Edge dad being one of them (he absolutely loved it!).
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The main characters were Dougal, the fuzzy ginger dog, Zebedee, the ‘thing on a spring’ who always used to close each show with his catchphrase “Time for bed” (well, the voiceover chappy Eric Thompson did, as none of the characters ever talked as such), Brian the snail, Ermintrude the cow, Florence (although The Edge is sure there was a bit-part, dumb-looking lad called Paul as well) and, of course, Dylan the ‘stoned’ rabbit (named after Bob Dylan). Oh and not forgetting Mr McHenry, who was an elderly gardener who rode around on a tricycle, and Mr Rusty, the elderly moustached organ grinder (operator of the fabled Magic Roundabout). The theme tune was epic and it’s a shame The Edge can’t play it to you right now (so do Google it, readers). It was a cheerful organ melody, but in the early black-and-white episodes it was played slower and sounded far more sombre with a degree of sadness, so the Beeb speeded it up. The show had a distinctive visual style. The set, of a stylised park containing the eponymous Magic Roundabout (a fairground carousel) was brightly coloured and the programmes were created by ‘stop motion animation’, which meant that Dougal was created without any legs to make him easier to animate. Meanwhile, Zebedee was created from a giant pea discovered in the animation studio, repainted, spring added, and pretty much good to go. Narration of the British BBC version was entirely new and bears no resemblance to the French original scripts whatsoever. Eric Thompson created it from what he saw in the visuals alone.
The first British broadcasts were shown every weekday on BBC1 at 5.50pm, just before the early evening news. The first colour episode, Chocolate Soldiers, was transmitted on 5th October 1970. The English version of Dougal was of a rather disparaging pooch, Ermintrude the cow was somewhat matronly and fond of singing, while Dylan, the hippy guitar playing rabbit, was, well, a bit dopey. Part of the show’s attraction was that it appealed to adults who immediately took to Dougal’s worldweary comments, with audiences reaching 8million at the shows peak.
To be honest, it wasn’t The Edge’s favourite and it always signified the end of the kid’s programmes for the day, as it came on just before the 5.55pm News on BBC1, but it’s since gained cult notoriety. Each episode was but five minutes long and there were a total of 441 of them all told.
In 2005, a movie adaption was released using modern computer animation with each character having their own voice, rather than narration. The voiceovers included those of Joanna Lumley, Tom Baker, Ian McKellen, Jim Broadbent, Kylie Minogue, Robbie Williams, Bill Nighy and Lee Evans. The Edge, being somewhat ‘old and stuffy’, didn’t know this and immediately thought: ‘Oh no. Let sleeping dogs lie, why don’t you?’
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Page 20 The Edge 077 646 797 44 DEAKS EDGE Ale
Great
‘Due to the levels of high demand your call has been placed in a queue and will be answered by the next available operator’ is a message I am sure most of us will be familiar with, but what is this high demand they refer to? Is it the fact that they do not employ enough staff? Or is it that in this Post-Covid lockdown world, our workforce has simply become lazy? It’s just not right, is it? The Premier League kicking-off in early August just doesn’t feel right, does it? It’s great that football is back, but given the lack of a summer break, it just feels like a continuation of last season, rather than a new one. Even though we all love the beautiful game (well, the majority of us at any rate), that extra few weeks of anticipation gets the juices flowing, but this year it just doesn’t feel as exciting, does it? Depressingly, it looks as though Manchester City already have the league sewn up (crazy, but true). They are 4 points clear of Liverpool even before the time a normal season would kick-off. So maybe we should call an end to this season right now and treat it as a pre-season; make Man. City champions, relegate Man. Utd. and then start again at the proper time of year? Let’s not bother with a winter break for the World Cup. Let’s just boycott it and focus on our own league and stop messing about with things. Oh and let’s pop VAR in the bin for good measure too. YouTube I remember the days when my evening entertainment used to consist of EastEnders and MasterChef, but since the kids have grown up, I seem to spend my spare time watching YouTube. The American accents are a bit irritating and some of the ‘razzle-dazzle’ is over the top, but some of the shows are really addictive. I am currently fascinated by MrBeast, one of the biggest ‘YouTubers’ of all time. He sets a number of tasks for the public and gives away incredible prizes, like how many iPhones can you stack jenga style. If you stack them and they don’t fall over, you get to keep them all, but if they fall over, you lose them all. ThenSimples.you have Snake Discovery, which is a couple running a reptile zoo in the US. The programmes are short in length and easy to watch, so these days when I finish work, I find myself trying to convince my eldest to watch YouTube with me.
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Evening Event: 5.30pm – 10pm Adults £7 online (£10 at the gate) Children £3 online (£5 at the gate) Join us for evening entertainment 6pm – 7.45pm Live music from 7 piece party band Old Skool Plus…. 8pm Outdoor Cinema playing… Tickets available online from 20th July www.bellmeadowday.co.uk Facebook page: Bell Meadow Day Bell Meadow Day 2022 Bringing the C back together Woodham Walter’s Bell Meadow Day Saturday 10th September 2022
The Train Robbery
I am almost certain that someone, somewhere, in Abellio is sitting there laughing at us. They are probably thinking to themselves: ‘I can reduce service to whatever level I like and charge whatever prices I want and these commuters will still lap it up.’ I am probably being a bit more vocal on this subject than I ordinarily would be, but I have just paid £32.60 for a return ticket to London and I am standing up on a hot, sweaty and extremely crowded train. It’s 07:27am and all I have heard the announcer say this morning is that trains are cancelled, there is a reduced service, and trains are running at reduced capacity.
It’s been like this for a while now and the train operators are cutting their nose off to spite their face. Fare prices are exorbitant and in an age where workers have more flexibility to work from home, more people are choosing to do so. Like many I actually enjoy going into the office, seeing my colleagues and spending money on local businesses once I get there, but getting to and from London has become an unpleasant experience. Today, for example, I genuinely feel more sweaty and flustered than when I ride my electric bike 5 or 6 miles to our Chelmsford office. Last week I had to travel to Manchester and the cost of three nights in a nice hotel, with a pool, including breakfast, was cheaper than the return cost of the rail It’sfare.not just the trains though, is it? Post-Covid, the standards of service has dropped dramatically.
PULLING A SICKIE
Yeah, I can sleep for, like, almost eighteen hours in one session.”
Behind every stable, well adjusted nurse is a patient, simply wanting to f things up five minutes before her shift is over.
NO SEX, PLEASE Yes, of course men and women can have a perfectly good relationship without sex. It’s called marriage.
Fifteen minutes later, the tannoy bing-bonged once again: "Will the 500 students who went to move twelve cars please return to their classes immediately.”
TAKE TWO MILLENNIALS
THE USUAL Waiter: "Would you like the usual, Mr James?” Me: "Do bears shit in the woods?” [At the next table, a bear gets up] Mrs Bear: "Let it go, Frank. He's not worth it.”
MUGGED I got mugged on my way home last night. The guy pulled a knife on me and said, "Your money or your life.” I said, "Feck’s sake. I’m married. I have no money. And no life either.” He said, “Same here.”. So we just hugged and cried together for a bit. It was a beautiful moment.
A LITTLE DEAF
HITMEN Two mafiaoso hitmen are walking through a dark forest One turns to the other and says, "I may be an out an out tough bastard to my victims, but walking through these spooky woods really gives me the heeby jeebies.”
A few years from now, teenagers will be telling us how their dads went out for a vape pen refill ....but never came back.
Two millennials are chatting in ‘Spoons: "My Mum fell off her bicycle yesterday. She’s got two broken arms and a broken ankle.” "Wowsers!” said his mate. "No wonder she fell off.”
I’m trying to recapture my youth. Although how he managed to get out of the basement I’ll never know.
GOT THE HUMP
ALZHEIMER’S DISEASE
Someone who can’t find the hairband she wore that morning, but can remember exactly what you said to her on 6th March 2021 at a quarter past eight in the evening.
BRAGGING RIGHTS
All jokes published are supplied by Edge readers. Please send your ‘egg yokes’ to shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
It had been snowing non-stop all day. The tannoy bing-bonged: "Will the students who have parked on the university drive please move their cars right away so that we may begin plowing. Thank you.”
The second one says, "You should worry. When I walk out of here, I’ll be on my own.”
Don’t want to brag or give it ‘The Big I Am’, but I am honestly like a lion between the sheets.
ENLARGED LIVER
BLACK LACY NUMBER
Cop: "Sir, please step out of the phone box.”
FFS It’s 2022 FFS. So how comes technology can’t come up with a smoke detector that can tell the difference between a house fire and toast burning?
ONLY JOKING! *** *** ***
DEFINITION OF A WIFE
GOODBYES Me [nervous giggle]: "I'm so bad at goodbyes. I really hate them. So do we shake hands or do I go in straight for a kiss, or what?” Moped guy: "Sir, please...just take the pizza.”
The missus asked: "Is it me, or is the cat putting on Apparently:weight?”
HELP!
"There’s no easy way to tell you this,” my doctor said to me, "but you have pseudohypoparathyroidism.” "OMG,” I said. “Is it serious, doc?” "Oh no,” he said. “It’s quite harmless, really. Just bloody hard to say.”
NATIONAL LOTTERY
NINJAS Do ninjas wear sneakers on their feet, or clogs?
My boss called me into his office and asked me point blank why I was only sick on work days?
Me: "Help! This toilet won’t flush.”
TYPICAL STUDENTS
My girlfriend just called from the bedroom to say I should join her because she’s just about to put a black lacy number on. Oooooh, I do so hope it’s ‘Agadoo’.
You can tell a lot about a woman simply by looking at her hands. For example, if she's holding another woman's panties in one hand and a smoking gun in the other, she's probably got the hump.
JUVENILE HUSBAND Her: "If you don't stop telling me your stupid juvenile jokes, I'm going divorce you.” Me: "Wow, that's really updog” Her: "What's ‘updog’?” Me [tears in eyes]: "Pesky wabbit.”
PSEUDOHYPOPARATHYROIDISM
Two of my friends had never met, that is until a recent barbecue at my house. Before they met, I told each of them that the other was a little deaf. So they began yelling at each other for a few minutes, before realising that I am a complete and utter arsehole.
FINAL NOTICE Got a bill in the post today. Yeah, weird that. No mail for weeks, then a bill suddenly turns up. Anyways, it said: ‘Final Notice’. Which is a relief as they’ve finally taken the hint.
RECAPTURING ONE’S YOUTH
THERAPIST My therapist tells me I have a preoccupation for Well,revenge.we’ll see about that, won’t we?
So I said to the missus, "What would you do if I told you we’d won the lottery?” "Easy,” she said. "I’d take half and leave you.” "Perfect,” I said. "Here’s your £12.50. Now f off!”
THE CAT
PROFESSIONAL ADVICE "So doc,” I say, "have I got an underactive "Morethyroid?”like overactive fork,” he replied.
The doc told me I had an enlarged liver. Which is handy actually, because I do like a drink. I’ll be honest and say that The Edge could do with some new jokes!
VAPING
The old boy next door is 90 years old and suffers from Alzheimer’s disease. Every morning at nine o’clock prompt he knocks on my door and asks: "Have you seen my wife this morning?” And sadly, every morning, just after nine, I have to tell him that his wife died many moons ago. I have often thought of moving away, or not even answering my door. But seeing that smile break out all over his face always gets my day off to a great start.
NURSE
"No, just you...” was entirely the wrong answer.
BEND DOWN Did you know that if you bend down and put your ear to a strangers knee you can actually hear them say: "What the f do you think you are doing, you weirdo?”
The one we visited (Gloucester Northbound) literally took our breath away as it looks far more like when Bluewater first opened. £40million it apparently cost, opened by HRH Prince Charles his very self (well, the Southbound one was, in July 2015) in May 2014 and what an architectural and gastronomical masterpiece it truly is. One national broadsheet described it as ‘More Master Chef than Little Chef’ and they’re not wrong there. It’s even mentioned in the Good Food Guide for heaven’s sake! YouConvinced?oughtto be. The question begs, is this a sign of things to come? This is what one visitor has said about it and you can tell it’s genuine: “Having chanced upon Gloucester Services we planned our next trip in the area to include it because it’s so wonderful and so very different. We don’t like unhealthy food and we don’t like service stations. But if this place was local, we’d definitely shop there.” We are talking quality food here, readers, 80% of which is locally sourced, and the surroundings are truly distinctive: there is no ambient music, no slot machines, no sound or even view of the motorway, no franchises (yes, that’s right, no Costa or Starbucks), although there is both a fishmonger and a butcher.
Fancy getting excited about a service station, eh? But so far as The Edge is aware, there’s only 3 in the entire country where ‘SSE’ (service station excitement) is truly warranted and they all, I think, look a bit like this one that Lurch and I visited recently whilst doing some surveying work in Gloucester. The other 2 are at Tebey (M6/J38 & J39 - ‘the Eden district of Cumbria’) and the Rheged Centre (M6/J40) which I believe are both near the Lake District.
Ah yes, but a service station totally unlike the ones we have unfortunately come to know, readers.
And do you know what? When you leave, you definitely feel more relaxed, because you’ve been completely taken away from your immediate location, which is travelling on a motorway, yet you’ve been so very cleverly removed from it.
“It’s so lovely not to see a McDonald’s,” noted another visitor.
It’s genius; it really is. That good that they receive requests from customers to book tables for Christmas day lunch!
What’s more, now that The Edge comes to think about it, it cannot recall seeing a single white van in the car park.
The Butcher agrees. “It’s crazy. We get a phenomenal amount of repeat business. I recall a chap from Wolverhampton who stopped off and bought some meat on his way south, then he stopped off again on his way back home to buy some more. And his next purchase after that was for £200, which blew me away, because at the end of the day, we’re still simply a service station.”
The fishmonger says: “Fifty per cent of the people who shop here are local people and I cannot get my head around some of the other fifty per cent. All of our fish comes off Cornish fishing boats, yet we get people calling in who are on route to Cornwall, yet choose to take the fish they buy here down to Cornwall with them.”
You know, the more I think about it, the sound and view thing is incredibly interesting as I genuinely didn’t realise that you couldn’t even see, or hear, the motorway when we first arrived, simply because I think we were both far too stunned by what we did see; as though we’d literally been ‘beamed up’ somewhere, it was that different, that strange, but in a good way. A very, very good way.
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tells us that when people are cold and food is in short supply, or unaffordable, then civil unrest becomes increasingly more likely. You simply have to look at France 1775 and 1778, Russia in 1917 and others around the world, which resulted in significant political and domestic changes. So again, what are the Government going to do about it?
Everybody remembers the often repeated phrase ‘Winter is Coming’ in the Game of Thrones, frequently used to mean multiple threats were arriving at the same time. In GOT it was the Undead from the Frozen North, the invasion by Daenerys Targaryen and her Dragons from overseas and the constant internecine wars throughout the land for control of the Iron Throne.
Our winter looks even worse. There can be nobody who is not aware of the looming economic crisis with energy prices (gas, oil, and electricity) rocketing up and seemingly out of control with the Government paralysed with fear and failing to stem the haemorrhage of money from people’s pockets. Interest rates are going to climb further, but let’s hope they don’t reach the levels of one South American country (Argentina) whose rate now exceeds 52%. Food costs are also rising and in some cases availability and choice are limited due to delivery issues - or so we are told. In the last year the price of a simple loaf of bread has increased by 8.5% and there have been similar increases across the board for other essential foodstuffs. We are told that this economic shock wave is due to the ‘Ukrainian Crisis’, the recovery from the Covid Pandemic and the increasing demand for diminishing natural resources. This is not a political commentary, but really, what are the Government going to do about Historyit?
With people having much less disposable income, they’re obviously going to spend less and those companies already struggling to survive in the Post Covid era will likely fold. Oh yeah, and as part of the ‘Winter Is Coming’ scenario, don’t forget Covid, which hasn’t quite gone away. In fact, the NHS is fully expecting a couple more winter spikes and intends to restart the Vaccination Program, only this time they’re not sure when to start it, not sure if they have enough vaccine, or whether the vaccine they do have (stored) is going to be Thankfully,effective.the virus has become attenuated, meaning that it is now much less severe in its effect, but will still give you nasty flu like symptoms and fatigue. Which is likely to put increasing pressure on our already overburdened NHS and impact the current waiting lists which are rising at 100,000 per month, including an increase in wait times at A&E and ambulance response times, as well as having an effect on our supply chains. So what could the Government do? Well, one thing they could do, like France, is to cap energy prices. Or, like Germany, give significant rebates for the utilities and cap all transport costs at 9 Euros. However, it’s far more likely they’ll do absolutely nothing. I mean, what impact is a £400 rebate going to have on a now forecasted annual gas bill of almost £5,000, or petrol and diesel prices now fast approaching £2 per litre? Sure, it’s lower at some petrol stations right now, but it’s very unlikely to stay low. So is it really all doom and gloom? No, not really. The England women have won the Euro’s, the Premier League has restarted with a World Cup looming in November, and the Eurovision Song Contest is coming back to the UK. As the Roman satirist Juvenal wrote in the latter years of the 1st Century AD: “Give Them Bread and Circuses and They Will Never Revolt.”
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I don’t mind admitting that I am one of the people who drive along looking super cool, with a wide smile, tossing my hair nonchalantly in the open air, while everyone else either breathes in Covid germs from their other passengers, contends with dry eyes, or looks an idiot because they don’t hear three fire engines, two ambulances, and a whole fleet of police cars with sirens blaring fast approaching to their rear. However, looks can be deceptive. I might appear to be cool, but I am far more likely to be baking hot, roasting in the midday sun, and wondering if I can grab the sunblock from my handbag and slather it on my shoulders while travelling at 60mph without getting caught.
There are some advantages to an open roofed car though. I highly recommend having one if your child suffers from travel sickness. Nothing easier than shoving their head over the side of the door to chuck up those chicken nuggets that you just knew you shouldn’t have bought them. (The only disadvantage with that scenario is having to then wash the side of your car before said vomit ruins the paintwork. And yes, I speak from personal experience.)
And at least you can never lock yourself out of one. Even if you lose your key, you can still hop in and await being rescued - if you have turned your alarm system off. If you haven’t, you are likely to suffer hearing loss yet again.
Let me reassure all of you with ‘normal’ cars, that huge smile upon my face has nothing to do with me feeling superior whilst in my open top motor. It’s far more likely to be from avoiding swallowing the flies that have committed suicide on my teeth. Note to those thinking of buying a convertible: when traveling at any speed, always keep your mouth firmly shut. What’s more, tossing my hair every thirty seconds definitely has nothing to do with appearing blasé, because everyone who has ever been in an open top car knows that the wind velocity protection offered by the windscreen is absolutely nil. Further reasons for not succumbing to the temptation of a convertible car can be numerous. For one thing, you are totally open to sudden bee attacks. There is nothing quite as disconcerting as having one zoom straight down your cleavage, forcing you to tear off your top in full view of everyone passing in the opposite direction. And then there’s any amount of toxic fumes or aromatic aromas spewed out from the old banger, dustbin lorry, or farm vehicle in front of Peopleyou. who litter are another one of my biggest ‘open top’ bugbears. It’s unpleasant enough being hit on the head by a recently thrown cigarette packet, but that’s if you’re lucky. It could even be a (very) full nappy if you are not. Or, this being the UK, there are the vagaries of our British weather. One minute you’re bathed in sweat, while the next you’re swimming in your own private mobile pool created by a sudden and totally unexpected downpour.
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Our beautiful, baking hot summer certainly brought the advantages of air conditioning to the fore. However, with energy and fuel prices rising, it can end up an expensive treat. The simple solution is to turn the air con off and open the windows. It’s cheaper on fuel, it’s instant, and if you are in your car, you can also top-up the suntan on your arm. Hey, and it works even better if you can take the whole of the car roof off.
You also never look like an idiot when an emergency vehicle need to pass. But you’re more likely to need an ambulance yourself after a near heart attack and the subsequent hearing loss caused by their unbelievably loud sirens.
All things considered, even given all of these little inconveniences, thousands of us will keep on driving open-top vehicles, smiling and spitting flies as we go, doing our best to look super cool. Like all art forms, film tastes are subjective, and if anyone asks me if they should see this film, or that film, I usually say yes, of course, because only you can know if you like it or not - don’t just go by my opinion. Case in point, we have a trio of new releases this month of which my views differ to those of the majority of film critics out there. So if I don’t like a movie, remember, it’s only my personal opinion and you may like it. Equally, just because a critic does or doesn’t like a film, don’t dismiss it. You never know, you may discover a new personal favourite.
NOPE Director Jordan Peele is being hailed in many circles as one of the greatest horror directors in cinema, which is complete nonsense as this is only his third film, previously bringing us the decent Get Out and the disappointing and somewhat pretentious Us. Hardly a great resume to be making such bold claims of his horror credentials (and a long way behind the likes of John Carpenter and Wes Craven). Nope is his latest film that critics are swooning over, with 5 star reviews and words like ‘masterpiece’ and ‘brilliant’ being thrown around with abandon. So why then did I walk out of the cinema feeling underwhelmed by it all? Nope is a mix of ideas that have the barest threads of connection, with the main focus being on siblings OJ and Emerald who inherit a horse ranch in California and are then witnesses to strange goings on that seem to involve a UFO lurking nearby. Rather than reporting this to any authorities, they decide to try and capture said UFO on film and sell the footage. Things, of course, don’t quite go according to plan and after a somewhat long and drawn out first half, the film eventually kicks into gear and offers some nice gruesome imagery that will stick with you long after the credits have rolled (a scene with some local townsfolk meeting a squishy end as they are sucked through an alien intestine is a particular standout). That in itself though isn’t enough to make a film good, and although it does indeed look the business and has some creepy moments, it will almost certainly leave you scratching your head afterwards, wondering what it was all about. A classic example of style over substance, Nope will likely generate plenty of discussion on its meaning, but I feel most viewers will be left cold by it’s purposefully ambiguous storytelling.
PREY A few issues ago I wrote about how the original Predator movie was not only one of my favourite action/sci-fi films of all time, but how it’s one of the greatest films of all time, period. And here we are, 35 years later, with yet another entry in the long running franchise as Hollywood tries to squeeze more cash out of the Predator’s slowly rotting carcass. Many critics are hailing this as a return to form with some even saying it is the best Predator film yet. Could this be true? No, of course not. In fairness to the film makers, they have at least tried to do something different by setting the film in 1715 (a connection to the end of Predator 2 that establishes Predators have been around for centuries) as a pesky Predator arrives in the new world and tests its hunting prowess against...erm...bears, snakes, wolves and the local Comanche tribe, as well as some French trappers who arrive on the scene later in the movie. In the original film, the Predator easily dispatches the squad of heavily armoured, muscle bound soldiers, leaving our hero Dutch (Schwarzenegger) to fight the Predator with sticks and a make-shift bow and arrow. By setting Prey in this time period, our new hero, Naru (Amber Midthunder) is already well skilled with such weapons, including a nifty axe on a rope, and so the fight becomes about knowledge of the land and tactical ability, rather than about brute strength. It’s unfortunate then that this isn’t fully realised as Naru escapes most confrontations through sacrificing her fellow Comanches to the Predator in order to escape. As the famous quote goes: “You don’t have to run faster than the bear to get away, you just have to run faster than the guy next to you.” A tactic our protagonist seems to have taken to heart as she leaves her friends and family behind to get caught before she does. Prey is perfectly watchable and is a rare film in that it was shot on location, so it looks gorgeous. It also offers plenty of gruesome kills for the gore hounds out there. But it doesn’t feel like a Predator movie. It could really be any alien menace thrown in and it lacks overall tension. Not bad then, but hardly in the same league as the original. Although somewhat reluctantly, I’d be up for seeing the Predator arrive in another Predatortimeline.versusthe Romans, anyone?
Which is what I do with my old motor.
ANDREWELEY
BULLET TRAIN Bullet Train is being unfairly maligned by critics as a poor man’s Tarantino/Guy Ritchie rip-off, taking particular offense at its quickwitted banter and geezer-like attitude. But here’s the thing. Neither Tarantino or Ritchie invented this type of movie, they just happened to have a lot of success with their films that caught the zeitgeist of their time, so now anything that comes along that uses this formula is criticised for being unoriginal and out of date. Well sod that, I had a blast with this film, as did my two friends who saw it with me, and I honestly think most people who go to see it will have a lot of fun too. Although I will admit, I did have to ‘let go’ and give into the inherent stupidity of it all. But when I did, I could simply sit back and enjoy the ride. And what a ride it is, with close quarter fist fights, ludicrous CGI train crashes, celebrity cameos and slick production helping to stage this simple story of a bunch of assassins on a bullet train who try to outwit and out fight one another to get their hands on a valuable briefcase. There are plenty of twists and double crosses along the way and despite some dodgy East London accents (one of the assassins being a diehard West Ham fan), the cast, led here by a very likable Brad Pitt, are clearly having fun with it and I’m pretty sure most viewers will as well.
So here’s to 10 days of blissful relaxation before we dive back into some more chaos of getting all our windows replaced, and then it’s on to getting the house re-pointed, because that’s the sort of thing you do when you’re married, right?
On the day, we simply didn’t have to do a thing. Everything was planned for us and the staff at The Lion House made it all run seamlessly. All the staff were great, the venue is amazing, the rooms on-site are lovely and the food was fantastic. Honestly, if you’re looking for somewhere to get married, then I can’t recommend The Lion House enough. I had a brilliant time and I didn’t feel nervous at all. Even when I was standing waiting for Lou to walk down the aisle, I felt fine. Which lasted right up until I turned around and saw her walking towards me, and as soon as I clapped eyes on her, I got all choked and at that point I started panicking that my voice would go during the vows and I’d make a right idiot of myself.
It’s funny how a couple of years of planning, dozens of hours of work and thousands of pounds can boil down to a 20-minute ceremony, yet that 20 minutes honestly makes everything so worthwhile.
Once we’d signed the register, the guys at The Lion House took my wife and I into the bar, got us a drink, and we had 15 minutes on our own just to let it all sink in, which was lovely. After the ceremony, we had a few ‘formal’ photographs taken by our photographer, Tom Humble of the Humble Photography Company, and he did a fantastic job. He got all the group shots done quickly and easily - which was no mean feat when you’ve got around 100 guests to organise - and he also got plenty of brilliant candid shots over the course of the afternoon and throughout the evening. We’ve been really pleased with the preview shots he’s sent us and I can’t wait to see the finished gallery in a few weeks time. It was a warm, sunny evening and we then had a few drinks in the courtyard while the guys at The Lion House turned our room around for dinner. The pre-dinner drinks were a mixture of Prosecco, Pimms and a bottled beer called Dinkelacker (I think) and because we’re all still such children in our 40’s and 50’s, there was plenty of “Can you hold my Dinkel, please?” going on. Then it was time for dinner and the speeches, the part of the evening I knew my two best-men had been dreading. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to doing my speech either, but the groom has the easy job. I’ve done 3 best-man speeches myself in my time and I’ve been nervous on every single occasion, so I definitely sympathised with them. But they both did a fantastic job, and I was praised and embarrassed in just the right amounts, which garnered lots of laughs. To be truthful, I think they both enjoyed it once they got going, but I could see them both visibly relax as they sat back down to enjoy their well-deserved beers. We finished dinner by cutting the cake. We didn’t plan on having a traditional cake, but Lou’s Auntie Sheila kindly offered to bake us one and she did a brilliant job. I’m not a huge fan of wedding cake, but our esteemed editor’s lovely wife, Tilly, told us to try it with cheese, which introduced us to a whole new taste sensation, as well as being responsible for me putting on a couple more pounds after eating loads of cake and cheese over the following couple of Oncedays.the dinner and speeches were done, all we had to do was drink, dance and enjoy ourselves, which everyone did, and Lou and I had an absolutely amazing night. Due to Covid, we lost a couple of guests (not fatally) at the very last minute, and while The Lion House policy is not to refund under such circumstances, they very kindly offered us that money back as a bar tab.
It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I love Lou very much indeed, but even I was surprised at how quickly I went from absolutely fine to a borderline wreck. Obviously I’m biased, but she looked amazing, and as soon as she stood next to me I couldn’t wait to say our vows and get married to such a gorgeous woman.
As I’m finishing this column off, I’m but hours away from going on honeymoon and I can’t wait. We’ve booked 10 days at a gorgeous place in Kos, and after the rollercoaster of the last couple of years, we’re both really looking forward to kicking down a gear or two and just enjoying being together.
Because of the whirlwind of trying to spend as much time with as many people as we possibly could during the evening, I completely forgot about that until I went to the bar for last orders and was reminded we still had around £70 left over. So at that point I got all the guys behind the bar a drink and then walked out with 3 trays worth of assorted booze (including 4 whisky’s for me, of course) and we wound down the evening sitting in the courtyard chatting and drinking with those family and friends who were staying overnight with us at the venue, which really was the perfect end to a truly perfect day. I honestly never really saw myself getting married. I wasn’t against the idea, but it just wasn’t something I’d ever really wanted, until I met Lou. But now that I am, I absolutely love it. I know that a lot of people say it’s just a piece of paper, and I’m sure I’ve said that myself in the past. But now I’ve experienced it for real and felt the emotion of making those vows to the woman I love, I know that, for us at least, it really does mean something.
We originally planned to go a bit further afield and spend a bit more on the honeymoon, but as much as Lou and I are very much in love, we’re also distressingly practical and we want to get some new windows fitted to our house as well.
shaun@theedgemag.co.uk Page 27 Tying the Knot I’m writing this as a newly-minted married man and at the risk of sounding overly gushing, I honestly couldn’t be happier. Lou and I had two years of saving, planning, changing those plans and then changing them again, due to Covid, and both of us were feeling the stress of it towards the end, particularly factoring in the suddenly rising cost of just about everything, while at times we wondered whether we shouldn’t have simply eloped instead. But in the end, it was worth every bit of planning, every bit of stress and every single penny we forked out for our wedding. Even though there were some headaches at the planning stage, our aim was for our day to be as stress-free and relaxed as possible, and that’s exactly what we managed to achieve.
Having not worn rings or any jewellery for around a decade, my wedding band is taking some getting used to, but I love my choice of titanium mixed with wood from a 100-year-old whisky barrel.
After the last couple of years and all the shit going on in the world at the moment, to have all our friends and family together, having all the people we love in the same place at the same time to share such a special moment with us, was absolutely amazing.Wehada twilight wedding, so it didn’t kick-off until 4.30pm, but I was all dressed and ready by 3pm, so got to spend a good hour with all those family members and friends who had already arrived, enjoying a beer (or two) with them and just having a really nice time both living and loving the day. Lou and I got married at The Lion House in Boreham and I can’t praise them highly enough. Our wedding planners, Georgina and Kayleigh (who stepped in at the last moment after Georgina unfortunately went down with Covid) were fantastic. From day one of booking the venue they were on the ball 110% and we both felt really confident that they had everything under control.
KiNGPiN The Kingmeister reports
Sancak In-Flight Services provide in-flight meals for SunExpress Airlines. They said the snake’s head must have been added to the meal after they had prepared it.
‘We at Sancak did not use any of the ‘foreign objects’ that were supposedly in the food when cooking (due to the technical and thermal conditions used in the in-flight catering facilities).’
Page 28 The Edge 01245 348256 Max Headroom’s BIZARRE NEWS
‘Recent allegations in the press regarding our in-flight food service are absolutely unacceptable and a detailed investigation has been initiated. Until the research process in question is concluded, all preventive measures and actions, including stopping the supply of the relevant product, have been taken immediately.’
The intoxicated events occurred in the early hours of a Sunday morning and it’s no wonder the poor bugger was confused as Bournemouth apparently has at least five Premier Inn establishments.
A drunken man staged a kerbside protest after not being let into his hotel, on the grounds he’d got the wrong hotel. The worse-for-wear drinker was found lying in a Bournemouth street and eventually escorted to his correct hotel by police. Prior to which he had decided to lie on the pavement, with his head in the gutter, 'in protest' after being turned away from the Premier Inn establishment on Westover Road. Yet Dorset Police quickly established that the man had in fact got the wrong hotel and was booked into another one nearby. So they frog-marched him back to his ‘real’ hotel room pronto, but not before snapping a photograph of his pavement antics.
‘SunExpress Airlines is a valuable client in our country and a popular airline in Europe, which recently decided to further expand its fleet and route network.
Bet the chap had some hangover the next morning.
Police cheekily tweeted: ‘Officers have dealt with an intoxicated man who was trying to gain entry to a hotel he wasn’t even booked into.’
No doubt they’ll get to the bottom of this mystery in due course. But until then, readers, the Headroom Crew strongly suggests you swerve SunExpress flights for the foreseeable future. Having said that, let’s be hearing about some of your ‘In-Flight Horror Stories’ as you’re surely bound to have had some? .. o
SNAKE’S HEAD FOUND IN IN-FLIGHT MEAL
A gruesome severed snake’s head somehow ended up in an in-flight meal on a budget airline. The clearly recognisable face with eyes was filmed glistening on a meal tray by a stewardess. It happened on a SunExpress flight from Ankara in Turkey to Dusseldorf in Germany.
SunExpress said: ‘It is our top priority that the services we provide to our guests on our aircraft are of the highest quality and that both our guests and employees always receive a safe and comfortable in-flight experience.
This story fairly tickled the Max Headroom crew.
ONE-MAN’S DRUNKEN PROTEST
N.B. Any readers ‘into’ gas masks should think carefully before abandoning your top lip to hirsuteness.
So, how have we ended up back here with an outbreak of ’tache fever? This recent headline from The Guardian says it all: ‘Radical, romantic, rebellious...why the tache is back in vogue’. Going on to say: ’Whiskers make a comeback, displacing the beard as fashion’s must-have facial accessory.’
MOTCO
But I also read this in the ‘Fail on Sunday’, which mentioned how moustaches could affect property prices in your area (well, we have to read all sorts in the name of research, dear readers).
There were the spivy pencil moustaches of the thirties and wartime forties and, of course, retired generals and country squires of old who sported big ruling class buggers. Those aside the moustache wearer could be seen either as a dullard, reliable type in his shed, or an unreliable type who wanted to do unspeakable things with your daughters in his open top sports car.
Let’s face it, the ’tache has had a long and chequered history. It’s been a favourite of dictators who have sported some of the finest examples, while the rest of their standards didn’t match their facial hair. There is also a strong link with poets and romance; Lord Byron sparked a certain trend with his in the early 19th century. Fast-forward to the 1980s and Tom Selleck’s masterpiece certainly launched many a crush. Oh yes, the humble ’tache. Desired by young shavers as soon as they can, because they can, no matter how bad they look. For a few centuries the ’tache has also been ‘a symbol of freedom and rebellion’. Allegedly it’s all about there being a bit of activism about, like right now. Whereas back in the seventies, which was a super hairy phase, there was a feeling of fear for the future, which began in the late sixties with plenty of peace and love. So are we seeing another anti-establishment political protest led by the addition of facial hair? We shall see. But at least, in these gender fluid times, everyone can join in this time around.
Yours aye,
Man
on the Clapham Omnibus The ’Tache is Back!
Reading the Sunday ’papers whilst laying in the burning August sun, a most disturbing article jumped out at me. But first, here are a few words you don’t normally see together…..“laying in the burning August Becausesun”!tradition would normally mean sitting indoors, watching Columbo, as the rain drizzled down the windows whilst we complained, as is our national want, about the sodding weather. Yet here we are, actually praying for rain. As I write, we are in the early stages of moving house, so sorting our 23 years of stuff out has begun, including masses of paperwork. I sorted out our filing cabinet and ended up with a pile around me that was two foot wide and over a foot high. I am honestly shredding paper faster than a South American dictator getting rid of Swiss bank account statements at the start of a revolution! It was suggested that we burn it. But the old statement of: “Well, there goes the neighbourhood” would doubtless take on a whole new and terrible meaning. But I digress from my troubling revelation, for the Sunday ’papers did indeed announce that ‘the moustache is back’. Now we have already covered the semiotics of good beard housekeeping in a previous article in this publication, as diligent readers will know, but the return of the stand alone ‘tache really is big, big news. I have already been forewarned by senior management that no moustaches will be tolerated on my person. I know for some (you know who you are) that the moustache has never gone away, and they are the people born to have a moustache (and I am not talking about your gran either). Indeed, the person I refer to in the brackets is such a person. I have known my friend Mr X, as we shall call him, for over three decades and he is a good and trusted mate. A close friend, having built a couple of trading teams together. He for his mathematical brain and mine for having a shiny suit and being a good broker and stretcher of truths. (Errr, shouldn’t that be ‘spiv salesman’? Signed, EE.) During this time, Mr X has always been the keeper of a rather fine moustache and such is a sight to behold, especially when it got angry; such a bristling ‘tache with the lip underneath flexing with rage. Honestly, if it could have left his lip and attacked you, it would have. We always likened it to a famous Monty Python sketch called ‘Killer Rabbit’. This harmless and obviously stuffed toy rabbit would be sitting still, when the cry went up….“DON’T PANIC, it’s only a rabbit!” before it suddenly flew through the air and attacked people’s throats. Which is this month’s You Tube look up for younger readers, by the way. So we used to shout this when Mr X’s ’tache was starting to bristle and flex…“DON’T PANIC, it's only a KILLER MOUSTACHE!” But there was a day back in the 1990’s when we were still trading on those shouty-shouty trading floors, in our bright jackets, when it finally happened. Oh yes, he suddenly appeared at a morning briefing and it was gone. The ’tache was no more. In its place, just a pasty, ultra smooth top lip, now glowing, as opposed to glowering at us. We had never seen its like before, and we didn’t want to see it. We didn’t need to see it, but there it was. There were about six of us in the sterling team then and we just stared. I, as senior, made the opening gambit of: “What the feck happened there?” Only I can't really repeat the next statements from my colleagues in a semi-family magazine. After a few minutes, the team once again looked to me, as captain, to provide leadership. “Right,” I instructed, “grow that fooker back and be sharpish about it too. And that’s a management order, I’ll have you know, and we will never mention it again. Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?” And so it was. Right up until this day. Naturally we are still firm friends and his ’tache has since mellowed and greyed, but it is still in its rightful place, on his top lip, that somehow nature has decided is absolutely right for that particular person. After all, is the moustache a facial murkin that should be confined to history, or do men need to get growing them again before the likes of ‘Movember’? Personally, I love looking at old WW1 military pictures as there’s always a lovely selection of fine General Melchett type moustaches on parade. But then, before you know it, your eyes are also drawn to the mousy efforts within the ranks. Why bother? Well, because they had to back then, that’s why. It was actually the law. From 1860 to 1916, the British Army imposed mandatory dress regulations on their soldiers, including the requirement to have a moustache. This explains why, in amongst the luxurious fulsome ‘taches, there was always the wispy runt that looked like the wearer should be on a court martial. Up until this directive was passed in the mid-19th century, facial hair of any kind was uncommon for British troops. It was one particular general who decided to remove the need and stated that soldiers in the trenches should be clean shaven. It also had something to do with gas masks that had since become a requirement.
Indeed, the moustache is slowly developing a new identity as a ‘statement of individuality’.
You need only look to moustache-wearers from the past for evidence of that; think Jimi Hendrix’s fine, lip-skimming horseshoe, as compared to Clark Gable’s matter-of-fact ‘line’ in Gone With the Wind
So there you have it. A moustache can be whatever you want it to be, from retro, to Victorian, to 70s pornstar, Edwardian dandy, your favourite screen legend, whatever you like. Apparently, the majority of the most stylish current examples tie into the nostalgia for the 70s; remember when flares were on your trouser rails? Yet you probably thought things couldn’t get any worse.
shaun@theedgemag.co.uk Page 29
There’s also a lot of channeling of both Burt Reynolds and Tom Selleck going on too, for I have even read claims it is the sexiest thing a man can wear. I quote: “Everyone can name a guy with a great moustache, but no two great moustaches are ever the same.”
01245 348256
The Edgetracie123@aol.com
Page 30
Getting through Security is a nightmare, while trying to cram all your toiletries into a tiny plastic bag? I got stopped and had to decide which item I wanted to discard. Would it be my Maybelline Sky High Mascara or my Le Mere £90 Face Cream. I thought it was only liquids, but no, apparently face creams count too. I spent 10 minutes pleading with the woman, who was drunk on power. I appealed to the security man, who tried to comfort me and help me choose which item I would throw in the bin. But I could not choose between them as both were vital to my mental wellbeing. So I made them open my plastic bag again and throw my perfume away instead. I then spent another 5 minutes trying to push the face cream and mascara into the plastic bag and stretch it enough to close. It was like an episode of The Generation Game. I was nearly in tears as the woman held my perfume in the air and dropped it in the bin with a cackle. It makes me sick that, once you walk through the ‘golden doors’ into the departure lounge you can then proceed to buy it all back again at hugely inflated prices. It’s got nothing to do with security. Hardly any other countries do this. Granted they do not allow bottles of water through, but that’s just so people don’t smuggle a litre of vodka on board and get drunk. But they don’t worry about mascara or lipstick. I mean, what do they think terrorists do up there in the sky? Put make-up on? Cleanse their faces before they hijack a plane? Can you imagine it: “Out of the way. Make way for the toilets. I have to put on my Max Factor Sky High Mascara - before I blow up this ’plane!”
Olivia Newton John died (‘died’ - what an awful word) on Tuesday 9th August and Nichelle Nichols went the same way on 30th July. There’s no real point to what I’m writing. This is hardly an obituary to either. But at my age, I remember these two beauties when they were in their prime and it’s just genuinely sad that beauty does wither and then, well, we all know what eventually comes after that. Which is why old age really ought to be respected a lot more than The Edge feels it is, as the alternative’s not great, is it?
The older you get, the sadder it gets. When people pass away. I guess because you feel far more vulnerable yourself, because you’re that few years older now yourself.
TOTALLY TRACIE
They say all we Brits ever talk about is the weather and I think they might be right. This month’s column is honestly being written with a wet towel wrapped around my head. Oh my….it’s been so incredibly hot! No one can say we have not had a good summer this year; so good, in fact, we nearly all fried! Why is the sunshine in the UK so fierce? You can travel the world and you get a happy kind of sunshine; hot, but with a gentle breeze on your face. Yet here in the UK, step outside your front door and it’s like walking into the furnaces of hell; the heat just blasts you head-on. I have even been taking siestas in the afternoons because I simply haven’t ben able to sleep at night. You open the windows and you get flies and gnats in that drive you mad. I hate any ‘flying things’ in my bedroom at night. I bought one of those tennis bat contraption things from the Pound Shop that you whack flies with and it stuns them long enough to throw them outside where they recover. I am honestly like Steffi Graf most nights - I really cannot be doing with this nonsense anymore. I swear I will end up on some dodgy website soon, as I now live in a glass fronted house, so end up charging around naked with a bat in hand and a towel wrapped around my head, which is not a pretty sight. The neighbours are absolutely lovely, but everyone has a breaking point. But I am loathe to moan because by the time you get to read this column, I guess we will all be praying for a mild winter, because those energy bills are going to hammer us all. “Enough to give you a bleedin’ ‘eart attack” as my Nan used to say. We will all be layering up and walking around like Michelin Men. I noted that the Government recommended that people do star jumps to help keep warm, especially the elderly. Well, I don’t know about you, but my days of doing star jumps are long gone - I just want an easy life these days; get home, have my tea, watch a box set. I cannot be doing with any Mr. Motivator stuff anymore, even if it means dying of hyperthermia. Ten years ago I won a Boot Camp regional challenge. There I was, most nights at 7.30pm, out in the snow and rain, covered in mud, hauling logs on bits of rope through ditches, climbing rock walls etc. Yet fast forward and it pains me to get off the sofa these days. I went abroad in August to get some medical treatment and it was absolute hell at the airport. Why do we put ourselves through such and call it a holiday? You need another week to get over the stress of queuing. Stansted gets more like Disney every day with its queuing system up and down roped off areas with signs that say ‘Fast Pass’ this way. For £7 you can join a shorter queue and the ropes are red - you almost expect Minnie & Mickey to greet you.
I have a theory and Heaven help me for saying this - I bet I get strip searched next time - but I think they do it so that travellers have to spend a fortune in the shops minutes later to account for the exorbitant rents the shops are paying, or they would all close down. I mean, it’s even £7 just to drop someone off at the airport and should there be a queue at the barrier to pay, it rapidly goes up. Is that not the worst charge of all? No airports abroad do this. So why do we have to wrangle every last penny out of people who work hard all year round who simply want to get away for their summer holidays? And don’t get me started on RyanAir as that’s a whole sperate column! Anyway, have a good one and thanks for all the lovely messages.
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