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EDGE
the ISSUE NO: 163
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SUMMER’S HERE!
By choosing to open this publication, you are agreeing to enter into a B.F.Z. whereby the rest of your life as you know it is left right here!
BULLSHIT FREE ZONE
You know the feeling, right? It’s that ‘Friday feeling’, yet it’s only a Tuesday. You arrive at the station for the 7:23 to London and think.......‘F*** it! It’s a nice day. I can’t be arsed to go to work today.’ Good decision. And anyway, it does you good to take reckless, spur of the moment, decisive action every now and again. It’s what helps keep you alive. What’s more, your mum can always write you a note for the day you took off, so no harm done. Come on, readers; time’s might be tough, but the weather’s free....only it’s been slapping us across the chops for the past six months.....so let’s get out there and enjoy it!
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The Edge Editor’s Column A REAL MAN
Summer has officially arrived. It definitely has because me and the GLW (good lady wife) had our very first BBQ of 2010 on Saturday 10th April. Mind you, we had to light up our chiminea (as opposed to “firing up the Quattro” - I love Gene Hunt) and huddle around it because it came perishingly cold come 7:00pm. But just how good does it feel to be spending time outdoors again? We’re not meant to be cooped up like battery hens (and neither are battery hens, come to that). We spent the entire weekend ‘pottering’ about in the garden and it was bliss (when I was about half my age, I used to think anyone who ‘pot-
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tered’ had a tile loose - only I was wrong because it’s definitely the way forward). GLW even got our high pressure hose out and blasted the patio back to it’s former glory. All credit to her, she then accompanied me to B&Q to purchase a couple of Box Balls (Buxus Sempervirens, oh yeah) looking for all the world like she’d just completed a country hike behind a muck spreader (hey, you don’t have to dress for the catwalk all the time, ladies). However, the highlight of my weekend came late on the Sunday afternoon, when Portsmough were on the tele against Spurs in the F.A. Cup semifinals (but watching ‘live’ footy wastes far too much time, whereas ‘pottering’ is proper productive). We ‘popped’ over to ‘The Bates Motel’ in Writtle (see page 25) and while everyone else sat about in their yard sipping Chardonnay, I was let loose on their log-splitting device and managed to tackle two sacks worth (so’s we can burn ’em on our chimney thing). I tell you, it’s a brilliant contraption and makes you feel proper manly and lumberjacky, even though it’s childsplay as compared to swinging an axe. And when I finally got out of the bath and was sipping a nice refreshing cider (cider’s the way forward too, folks), it felt proper champion to stand at the patio doors and survey the fruits of our weekend’s labour, for then and only then are you entitled to let out a right contented sigh/chuff.
SUMMER WATCH
I don’t know about you, but I always take a different watch on holiday with me to the one I usually wear at home. Why? Two reasons. (1) I tend to misplace stuff when I’m away and very often things like watches don’t make it back home to Blighty, hence a cheaper one is always a good idea when I’m on me hols. (2) Like I’ll sometimes wear shirts abroad that I wouldn’t be seen dead in at home, I also think there is such a thing as a ‘holiday watch’. One I bought recently is bright yellow, and I do mean bright. So much so that when I showed it to Lengthy-Boy for his opinion, he actually commented, “Did you mean to buy that?”
OUT-OF-TOWNERS
During the course of the past few months, I’ve had cause to deal with a couple of out-of-town advertisers. I didn’t source them out; they approached The Edge, as, by rights, every right thinking individual or company should. Thing is, because they clearly weren’t familiar with that which I produce, nor myself and my practices, their attitudes were poles apart from that which I’ve fortunately come to take for granted from nice, upstanding, local Chelmsford folk. In short, they came across as pretty much, “This is what we want; take it or leave it?”
If the current financial climate hadn’t altered so much for the worse, I’d have honestly told them to poke it (as I have people in the past who’ve got their heads well and truly stuck up their arses, yet still believe it smells nice), for the simple reason that I just don’t work like that, and nor should anyone have to. What they ended up getting wasn’t as good as that which I could have given them, if only they’d shown a little bit of trust and not been so high and mighty. But hey, whoever trusts ‘the new guy’ and unfortunately that’s exactly who I was to them.
IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK
You’ll never catch The Edge knocking libraries. I’ve just picked up Chris Evans’ autobiography It’s Not What You Think from Chelmsford Library for the second time after only managing to reach page 166 during the first four week period I borrowed it from them. Now if that’s not a good enough ‘Edge style recommendation’ for a book, then I don’t know what is. But what’s the point of having a wall full of books at home? I’ve never quite understood it. Surely you never read them twice, so what’s it all about? Nor do I want house guests passing judgement on my literary tastes; Dandy, Beano, Whizzer & Chips etc. Some stuff’s best kept for private. THE EDGE Chelmsford CM2 6XD 01245 348256 shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
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ATTENZIONE: prostitute You know those red triangular signs you see by the sides of roads that indicate potential danger; perhaps depicting rocks falling down a cliffside, or possibly an old couple crossing? Well, a new one that’s recently come to The Edge’s attention was designed by Giovanni Azzolini, the Mayor of Mogliano, a town in the Italian province of Treviso. Inside this particular red triangle is the silhouette of a leggy, busty, thin-waisted, high-heeled woman with long flowing hair carrying a handbag. It’s intention is to draw motorists attention to the towns growing number of prostitutes many of whom are transsexuals - who line the streets at night. “I will not leave any citizen to combat this phenomenon alone,” says Moglano’s Mayor about a
situation that has seemingly become intolerable. Tut. And just what has Chelmsford’s Mayor got to worry about by comparison? And where would any Chelmsford prostitutes congregate after dark? Along Parkway? Nope, there’s no stopping along there. In the High Street? Nope, it’s pedestrianised. Up Baddow Road? Nope, you can’t curbcrawl due to the number of taxis and people pulling over to collect their take-aways. So where then? Well, how about out the back of the railway station; up that road that links the tradesmen’s entrance of the Original Plough to The Ship? Cars could drive in a ‘loop’ past there. And yes, The Edge thinks some colourful prostitutes leaning up against the walls might afford Chelmsford a bit of much needed lustre. What’s more, if prostitution took off in that particular area, it could be expanded to incorporate Coval Lane, because that’s also on the ‘loop’ before our town’s curbcrawlers hit Parkway and decide whether or not to have another drive-by by turning up Victoria Road South. Vote The Edge for Mayor!
Not My Name Every time I park up at the supermarket, someone invariably says to me... “Good morning, Car Wash?” as though that’s my bleedin’ name. Let me tell you, Car Wash is not my name. However, if it were, I would expect to be addressed as Mr. Wash by somebody I don’t even know. Tut. The flaming cheek of it.
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Who’s a pretty girl then? This is Kiki, ladies & gentlemen, and no, she’s not a Husky....she’s an American Akita. Isn’t she beautiful? She’s only 7 months old, but already weighs in at 30 kilos and will grow to be about 45-50 kilos. Akita’s originate from Japan, but Kiki’s owners bought her from a breeder in Nottinghamshire from a litter of eight. Whereas Husky’s are prone to buggering off and never being seen again, should they be let off their leash, Akita’s are incredibly loyal dogs and are also very intelligent (although this particular example didn’t seem to do what she was told in The Edge’s company, but that’s women for you). Akita’s are also exceptionally friendly dogs and Kiki in particular loves kids (no, not for breakfast she simply seems to have taken a shine to kiddiwinkles). Her coat is so lovely and thick, although as yet she hasn’t seemed to moult, so Akita’s are pretty damn good for not getting dog hair all over your furniture, clothes, car etc. And check out her tail - isn’t it spectacular? It’s ever such a confident tail that says, “Look at my ringpiece - isn’t it a corker?” On the food front, Kiki is partial to Baker’s biscuits with some added tender strips of chicken. She did try a bowl of Pedigree Chum once, but gagged it all up and woofed, “What’s going on? I’m not eating that muck.” Having a bit of scratch Also note how fit Kiki looks in the main photograph. Look at her chest to waist ratio. Blimey, it’s just like her dad’s - Glynn Roberts of Essex Boot Camp (see page 14). That’s because Kiki is put through her paces several times each day starting at 6:00am.. “She’s ever such a good runner,” says Glynn, as though describing a second-hand car, although there’s nowt secondhand about this lovely canine. Kiki howls rather than barks too - The Edge likes that. It’s a bit like having a wolf on a lead. Glynn’s even had to buy an elasticated version because when Kiki ‘takes off’, she’s all but had his shoulder out of its socket. If you too like the look of Kiki, you might want to check a movie starring Richard Gere called Hachiko: A Dog’s Story. It’s based on a true story and is all about the incredible loyalty of the Akita - although be warned, it looks like a bit of a tear-jerker. (P.S. How did Richard Gere get so old?). The Edge has never much been into dogs, although in my dreams, I have a house on a beach and go jogging every morning with a ‘husky looking dog’ along the shore. Check out the bullseye of So perhaps an Akita really was the dog for me all along. which Akita’s are so proud “Hey, how much do you want for her, Glynn?”
editor: shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
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Bird’s Eye View
F
or the last year, I've been on a mission to discover how our bodies work at every level. I think most of us know more about our cars or our mobiles than we do about our own bits’n’bobs. Along the way, I've covered a lot of baffling medical and nutritional ground, and encountered some eye opening facts and a mass of contradictory research. My bias has been towards the female body, because I happen to own one, and it's developed some nasty glitches in the past eighteen months. The medicine men stuck me up on the ramp and then told me I was looking at a lifetime of waltzing rather than pogoing unless I altered a whole manner of things. It felt a bit like being handed a weird recipe from a Michelin star chef and then being asked to produce it for Michael Winner the following day. Repetition is the key to good practice, but it's taken me a year to get my head around the rules of my new 'life' because I'm more of a tortoise with a sprinkling of Ostrich genes than I am a hare. I take my time mulling things over and throwing too many pity parties, which, according to everyone who knows me, means I'm a weak-willed, selfabsorbed procrastinator who's too lazy to mend my ways. Maybe I was, but I'm now a bloody well informed one ready for the challenge of change! The hares surrounding me uniformly agree I need a good kick up the shell, but most of them don't actually 'walk their talk' either. They put in a good sprint at the first hint of a health dip, but they soon flag if the cure curtails their pleasure seeking pursuits, or takes too much effort. Just take a look at a hare's face if they have to take antibiotics that can't be mixed with alcohol, just as the first barbecue invite arrives in their inbox. Actually, thinking about it, I've got a lot of hare genes in my tortoise and Big Bird mix. It's all very well pumping iron or pounding the pavements in your trampoline trainers, but if the inside of your toilet bowl looks like a vegetarian Slush Puppy, your wrinkles like trowelled earth and your eye bags could house a truck load of illegal immigrants, then you've got to spend a bit more time thinking about what you're putting into your body rather than what chemicals you smear on it to keep up the veneer of health. People spring clean their homes and prune their gardens for a reason; the bright spring sunshine might replenish the much depleted vitamin D our bodies require, but it
also reveals every weed, dirty carpet stain, fine cobweb and dust blanket hanging about the place. The same applies to our bodies too, because under the scrutiny of nature's spotlight, even the most expensive foundation will never hold up if it's layered over an unhealthy complexion. Even those who pack their stressful lives with healthy leisure pursuits still moan their butts off about their fatigue, aches and pains, not to mention sleepless nights. They do a lot of the right things, and their hearts and social diaries might be in better condition than most, but scratch beneath the surface and you know that they're ignoring the warning signs their bodies are constantly flashing at them. Like teenagers cramming for exams, a lot of us merely pleasure cram and use the umbrella of 'you only live once/life's tough enough without blah blah blah' as an excuse for the fact that our bodies are tired of the same old predictable routine and desperately need a mini-break. Trouble is, most women live by the motto: When in doubt, get the wine/fags/Cadbury's out. Guilty as charged on two counts, because you only live once! When my body recently craved tinned salmon and anchovies on a daily basis, I just gave it what it wanted, even if it was breakfast time or midnight. I literally scoffed the fish down like a heron on speed. The egg mayonnaise sandwich with a layer of anchovies raised some eyebrows, but tasted great. Something shifted in me after a day or two and I felt better and the cravings petered out. Most of the time it just takes a minor adjustment or two to appease the body and replenish what it's lacking; it doesn't mean full-on fun is off the menu for good. I think I'm beginning to convince myself.... Some say it takes ten day, others argue three weeks, to break a habit, or create a new one, so I'm about to put this to the test. I'm ditching a lot of my lifestyle crutches, even though I know I'm going to struggle to let go of the cow's milk; Soya stuff just tastes like crushed chalk and water to me. So, from here on in, this Bird's Eye View column is going to delve into the competitive world of women's health and beauty; the good the bad and the downright weird will be weeded out, mulled over and some things will be tried and tested. I figure that if I'm going to change, I've got to throw in some whacky experiences to make it palatable and to keep me on track. Before I start, however (told you I'm a procrastinator) I'm going to take a picture of my whole body, nails and teeth included and then measure it. If I can bear it, I'll repeat this procedure every month to monitor any progress made. I might just be at the Start Line, but we all know what happened when the hare and the tortoise had a race....
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New Fashion Boutique
Carla This is/was Carla Bruni, wife of the French (dwarf) President Nicolas Sarkozy, and they’re both reckoned to be having extramarital affairs. But anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, isn’t this a truly tremendous photograph of Carla aged circa. 25 years? Yet she’s supposedly ‘deeply embarrassed’ about the likes of the above, and others, being sold at auction. Why, love? What’s there to be embarrassed about? She looks absolutely stunning and it’s such a provocative pose, with legs to die for, without being down-market. It’s the sheer cheekiness of youth.
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Good news for all you fashion conscious females out there: a new independent boutique has opened up right next door to Bang & Olufsen on New London Road. Sam of So Chic stocks Unique Boutique, TFNC, Motel and Rare and visits Paris regularly to buy new stock. She formerly owned her own store in Epping High Street, but is now looking forward to building up a totally new clientele base in Chelmsford - the world renowned centre of the fashion universe. So Chic also stock special occasion wear, prom dresses, shoes, bags and jewellery, so don’t be shy, girls - give So Chic a look. With the likes of Escedra opening up, you really can’t afford to be seen in the same outfit twice!
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BEWARE - Tiger on the LOOSE! Hey, people, come on. You do realise that our Eldrick (yep, that’s what he’s called, only it doesn’t quite have the same ‘ring to it’ as Tiger in the bedroom, does it?) is the WORLD NUMBER ONE in his chosen sport/profession? And that there are SIX POINT EIGHT BILLION PEOPLE IN THE WORLD and, sorry, did The Edge forget to mention the fact that he is/was (at the time) the very BEST in his field? I tell you what, readers; if everyone knew The Edge was ‘the best ickle fanzine, bar none, in the world’ (it is, only not enough people know it yet), I’d walk downstairs for my Bran Flakes and raisins every morning and I have absolutely no doubts about it that I’d be a proper bloody nightmare. Seriously, much to the good lady wife’s chagrin, I can imagine myself posturing about like Chris Eubanks, no doubt with a monocle in me eye and a silk dressing gown on my back for good measure. What’s more, I’d probably expect the missus to spoon feed me my cereal whilst I continually POINTED AT MY KNOB!
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So why did everyone seemingly expect anything less of Tiger Woods? Enough has been written about Tiger Woods’ private life by people who don’t even know what it’s like to stand in Tiger Woods’ shoes, and naturally neither does The Edge. So hey, seeing as every bugger else and their dog has ‘had a pop’ at him, surely it’s only fair that The Edge should try to......DEFEND HIM! OK, so the first, and The Edge would have thought most obvious, question to pose is this: What the bloody hell did you expect? Seriously, what is everyone so (mock) shocked about? You know when that little twat Leonardo DiCaprio shouted, “I’m the king of the world” at the front of that R.B.S. (right big ship)? Well, The Edge’ll bet you ten-to-one that Tiger Woods shouts that into his bathroom mirror every single morning of the week whilst he’s having a shave. Then he probably would’ve (pre-getting caught, obviously) gone downstairs and shouted the very same at the top of his voice to his wife and kid...only The Edge reckons he presumably stuck a few eff’s into his prose for good measure, just so they DIDN’T MISS THE POINT .
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What, is it because he looks so angelic? Pagh! Do The Edge a favour. I mean, just look at him (in this loving family portrait). That is the grin of a demon if ever The Edge saw one and surely he is saying (via M.T.T. - mind thought transference): “Just as soon as I get out of here (the photographers) I’ll be dropping the wife and scrote off at home and shooting straight round to Betty Boo’s and having a three-in-a-jacuzzi sex session with her and her transsexual Brazilian mate, Rivelino (no doubt the former South American footballer).” Get this if you’re in any doubt: in 2008, Tiger was the highest paid athlete in the world, earning an estimated $110million from winnings and endorsements. In fact, surely that’s when he flipped.....when he’d outdone/outearnt EVERY OTHER SPORTSPERSON ON THE PLANET! Oh yeah, he must have positively slid down the banister of his mansion that morning and purred, “Who’s the f *** ing daddy?” Like most successful sporting icons (and former Presidents of the United States of America), Tiger wasn’t born into such outlandish wealth and The Edge genuinely thinks that when they get to the stage where it finally dawns on them that they can afford anything their little heart desires, that’s when they come to realise that they can have anything that they want. And why wouldn’t you? Because of morals? Don’t be daft. You try waking up tomorrow morning with a cool couple of billion in your bank account and let’s just see what you go and fritter it away on first.
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UFO sited as reason for bloke driving in Bus Lane
This is a cracker, and best of all, it’s true! A driver, fined £120 by Chelmsford Magistrates Court for driving in the bus lane down New London Road, contested the case on the grounds that he said he’d had to swerve (into the bus lane) to avoid a UFO fast approaching in the opposite direction. Don’t you just love stories like this? He actually said he’d been “forced to swerve to avoid a spaceship”. Tee-hee. And that he’d had to take “avoidance action as the vessel approached”. Titter-titter. “It was either the spacecraft or me, yer honour.” Oh, stop it! He told an appeal panel that he would “never normally stray into a bus Lane” - only when Martians were using his side of the road, The Edge strongly suspects. However, his plea was rejected on the grounds that parking chiefs noted that the camera used to record his misdemeanour did not show any sign of any little green men driving a silver turned-up plate (the likes of which an Indian dish might be served in down at your local Balti King). But you’ve got to hand it to him for trying though, haven’t you? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that. And The Edge loves this one too: some bloke said, after returning to his car to find a parking fine stuck to the windscreen, “Oh, I thought you could park anywhere when it was raining?” What’s all that about? Where do these people dream ’em up? A council spokesman said, “Some folk have very vivid imaginations.” I tell you what though, readers. I got caught by a speed camera once (well, it’s happened a few times, actually) and I was contemplating writing a letter to say that it wasn’t me who’d been driving, but the good lady wife. Only when I looked a little closer at the photographic image, you could clearly see the silhouette of my head with my lugholes poking out either side, just like my twin brother’s do....he of Wallace & Gromit fame. So yep, that was another 3 points plus a sixty quid fine I was forced to shell out, without a spaceship in sight anywhere.
don’t you dare let me catch you playing around
but me and rodders are booked in at channels tomorrow?
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On May 6th, Ben Sherman will be taking his case for the reduction of tax on beer to the citizens of Chelmsford. Below is a brief guide as to why it is important that all pub-goers make the effort to get out and vote for him, based on questions and comments his campaign team has fielded whilst advancing the cause around the inns of Chelmsford (it's been a tough campaign, what with all that beer to drink……). Beer is a luxury product; why shouldn't there be a tax on it? Frankly, everything except water is a luxury product; there's no one thing people can't do without. But taxing an industry into extinction simply doesn't make economic sense. The beer and pub industry employs millions of people, whose salaries go towards keeping other industries in existence, following the payment of their own taxes. The unemployed are neither economically productive nor economically active, except on the most fundamental level. The main part of the cost of beer is profit margins taken by landlords, brewers and pub companies. Tax isn't the issue. Brewers hide their annual increases (some of which are unreasonable) by introducing them in the wake of the budget, so the public thinks the whole increase is accounted for by taxation. Slashing tax on beer would remove this cover. Reducing the price of beer will cause widespread public drunkenness and result in law and order problems. Such problems are clearly more widespread now than they were before the Thatcher government began to increase beer tax by a significant amount. In the intervening years, the weakest alcoholic drink, and therefore the one on which it is most difficult to become drunk, has increased vastly in price, whilst taxes on stronger drinks have remained low. Compare also the taxation rates in the rest of Europe and consider whether or not other countries are known for the behaviour which has made the British notorious around the world. Public drunkenness is caused principally by irresponsible retailing of spirits and high house prices, which have resulted in young professionals living with their parents and having an inordinate amount of disposable income. Punishing the responsible drinker does nothing to combat this. Why vote for you? You won't win. Precisely. There is very little chance of us having a different M.P. or a different Prime Minister in the next parliament. But a vote for Ben Sherman will send a strong message to all parties that this is a significant issue. Every vote he gets is a vote that will say to the other candidates: 'This one could have been yours'. Tax on beer can't possibly be that high; supermarkets and chains (such as Wetherspoons) sell beer much more cheaply than most pubs. Large businesses dictate buy-in prices to producers and use economy of scale to operate at small unit profits. In many shops, beer is sold for less than the price of the tax in order to attract trade for other products. Traditional tenanted pubs do not have such luxuries and are clobbered by the tax man in a manner against which they have no effective defence. Increasing tax on beer will drive more traditional pubs out of existence and allow enormous, anonymous chain pubs to have an even stronger grip on the market. There's already a gaping hole in the public purse. Reducing tax on beer will only make the situation worse. The increase in beer tax over the past years is nothing to do with raising revenue. Its aim is to reduce consumption of alcohol. So successful has this been that the government last year raised less revenue from alcohol sales than it did the year before despite the level of tax being higher. Reduction of tax on beer will stimulate the market and generate an increase in revenue, both directly and through an increase on taxable income from the industry. You're just after a cheap pint! Far from it. Cheap beer is already available, as discussed (above). Our aim is to help British pubs and breweries. Join us.
www.theedgemag.co.uk
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Pretty Food A good old plate of curry laid out in the colours of the Indian flag. Fine. The Edge has no problem with that as it looks like a proper M.S.P. (man sized portion) - check out how there’s not a lot of plate to be seen. But nouvelle cuisine (that’ll be the damn French again) is all about the presentation and not nearly enough about the quantity (“Go on, garcon, pile it on there, lad, and don’t be shy neither.”) . In a Peter Kay stand-up routine, he described the words nouvelle cuisine as meaning “f *** all” in French....and he’s not wrong there. Come to think of it, nouvelle cuisine must have been created by a woman for women because it’s got the word ‘elle’ in it (sniff, stands t’reason, dunnit?). So pretty food and artistic design is all fine and dandy, just so long as there’s plenty of it.
Recession
Popped in to The Lion at Boreham the other Friday evening and the place was absolutely heaving. Recession? What bloody recession?
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Decisions Decisions
When you read this, the election result will be either known or about to be announced. As it is, I’m writing this in early April and we're only on day two of the election campaign. I have less than four weeks to make a decision about who to vote for and apparently I'm not alone. According to several sources, floating voters tend to be overwhelmingly female who often leave it to the very last moment to make up their minds. Maybe it's because we're more likely to dither, but I like to think it's because we're weighing up arguments from all parties concerned.
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points of difference on any other topics. Just this week, in attempting to find out more, I filled out two online tests which questioned my views on matters various. From these questions the results would, apparently, tell me which party I’d be best to vote for. The first result told me I was 38% Labour, 33% Conservative & 29% Liberal Democrat. The second test predicted me to be 52% Conservative and 48% Labour. So a hung parliament then, and that’s just me!
Never before do I remember an election having so Cheryl Barry much focus or I have never voted involvement with the wives. Is this Conservative in my life and I'm not an American trait that we have sure I can bring myself to do so adopted, or are the men so now. Part of me is yearning for desperate to appeal to those change, but I'm not so sure that female floating voters that they Cameron is the man that can do it. have reeled in their wives to There's something quite smarmy assist? Sarah Brown has been and self righteous about D.C. and busy working on Gordon's P.R. at this stage in the game, I'm not skills and is renowned for her sure I really understand exactly constant updates on Twitter. how his party will make things any Meanwhile, Sam Cam rules the better. blog world and the fact that she is now pregnant will probably appeal On the news today, all three to some women. Fair play to leaders were shown to be Miriam Clegg though, who, unlike bickering and pulling apart the the other two, refuses to be arm other parties statements in an candy for her husband and recentalmost childish and personal ly announced that she can't afford fashion. Is this what we have got to let her own career drop. to put up with for the next four weeks? Constant arguing and Sam Cam been has been credited whinging about ‘he said this’ and by D.C. as being his secret ‘he did that’. It's worse behaviour weapon, whilst Gordon has said than kids in the playground! that he definitely wants the "love of his life" with him on the campaign Apparently personal dirty tactics is trail. These men clearly do believe another thing that turns us women that their wives can greatly help off certain parties and I have to them in getting a majority vote. say I wholeheartedly agree. I don't Both Sarah and Samantha are want to see money being wasted clearly strong, charismatic women, by the Conservative party on the which makes me wonder if we'd be printing of huge billboards depictbetter off voting for them rather ing Gordon Brown and Alastair than their husbands? Darling as a pair of ridiculous cartoon characters stamping all Like many other people I know, I'm over the ‘green shoots’ of the going to wait for the ‘live’ televised economy. Why don't they put their debates to see if anyone or anymoney where their mouth is and thing comes out in the wash as a tell us what they’re going to do clear point of difference. Whilst instead - given the opportunity? ideas and policy undoubtedly count, a lot of this is going to be At this stage in the game, it would judged on how the three leaders be good to have an impartial handle themselves on unforgiving source of information that can tell ‘live’ TV. me exactly what each party stands for. At the moment it appears to I only hope that there's more to it me that one party wants to raise than a playground scrap and that the tax on National Insurance to the debate will give me some raise funds to rebuild the economy enlightenment as to who to vote whilst the other completely for. However, whether it’ll help for ridicules the idea and wants to the future running of this country is save money by cutting public another matter entirely. spending instead. But I can't seem to get any clear cut answers or The Edge 01245 348256
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Why is it some people snigger when I tell them I'm a Pilates personal trainer? Because I'm a bloke? Because they picture me in a leotard? Pilates has a reputation amongst some as being for middle-aged ladies in Village Halls, gently stretching and getting their pelvic floor muscles back into shape. Where there's some truth in that, it is only a tiny part of the story. More and more people, including celebrities and sportsmen/women, are ‘coming out’ and admitting that Pilates and core-training plays a vital part of their regular routines. Ryan Giggs, the All Blacks, David Beckham and Tiger Woods are among those whose Pilates training is well documented. So what is Pilates? Who's Pilates good for? Pilates is a full body conditioning program appropriate for both young and old. It transforms the way the body looks, feels, and performs by incorporating modern exercise science and rehabilitation principles, whilst also emphasising neutral alignment and core stability. It helps build strength and creates a toned body and flat abdomen, as well as teaching body awareness and good posture, whilst also improving flexibility and agility. Pilates is appropriate for people who want to recover from injury or improve their posture, but it's also vital for sport. The beauty is that everyone, no matter what their current level of fitness and/or flexibility, can do Pilates and benefit. There are typically many different levels to each exercise, so the experience can be anything from gentle and relaxing to the hardest workout you've ever undertaken. And trust me, you have not done a sit-up or a push-up until you’ve done it ‘the Pilates way’. And then there's the plank....!
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Paddy Power reckon ENGLAND are fourth favourites to actually win the damn thing! Come on. Surely it’s one thing to be patriotic and quite another to be stark raving bonkers, reports The Edge Editor. As a bloke, I think the older you get, the more you start to turn into your Dad. Unfortunately, one of the things I’ve inherited from my Dad is.... Put it like this; he once told me, when I was about 11, that he never bothered looking forward to things because when he did, as a lad, they never materialised (Belgian Buns at the weekend, trips to the seaside, a brand new bike for Christmas, things of that ilk). So for me to rate England’s chances in South Africa and actually mean it... No. Sorry, folks. I can’t do that. I cannot let myself believe (in the inevitable hype?) simply because of the fear of being ultimately let down (thanks-a-bloody-lot, Dad). That sucker punch to the stomach that nonetheless almost doubles you over has happened to me on so many occasions in the past that these days, I simply don’t allow myself to be hit. Instead, I sit there, beer in hand, watching games obviously in the hope that England to win; but somewhere, deep inside, I’m secretly doing my best to protect myself from the ultimate, inevitable failure right from the very kick-off. It all began with that twat Domarski scoring at Wembley which prevented England from competing in the 1974 World Cup Finals when Sir Alf was in charge. I was barely a teenager, yet already my life had been ruined. Yeah. Sorry for it being that bad, but it was. So you see why these days I kind of hold back; it’s because of that delirious, giddy thought of victory and having it snatched away, right at the death, by a sublime piece of Spanish or South American skill. Quite simply, it would be more than I could take; so instead I steel myself for defeat right from the off. Yes, I agree, it’s an awful way to live, an awful way to feel. But if I let go, it’d be even worse getting my hopes up, only to see them ultimately dashed. You see, in my eyes, I’d only be setting myself up for a fall. Despite that, I do love white van men fluttering their England flags with pride from the moment the domestic season is over. They display such a reckless abandon that’s simply beyond me. In short, they’re old enough to know better, yet still they believe. Oh to be so woefully, blissfully ignorant. “En-ger-lund’ll do it!” they say, and not an ounce of them doubts it. “Sniff. It’s the conditions, yer see. It’s winter in Sarth Africa this time o’year, innit? Suit our boys purfectly, it will. They’ll lap it up.” The 2010 World Cup actually began with 204 teams back in 2007, yet now we’re down to the last 32. So really, I should take some comfort in that and the fact that England are ‘expected’ to at least make it to the last 16. But see, that’s already a bare-faced lie, because in reality, the ‘expectation’ is nothing short of the semi-finals. Only get there and you want that place in the final so badly it hurts, it really does. And make it into the final and....well....anything can happen. So it does me absolutely no good to let my thoughts run away with themselves, which is why The Edge will be rooting for Korea (hey, don’t knock ’em, they’ve qualified for the World Cup 8 times and even reached the semi’s back in 2002). I tell you what I didn’t realise though: the ultimate winners get $30million. Yeah, tell me about it (I could do with just a fraction of that right about now). The runners-up get $24m, the semi-finalists $20m and the quarter-finalists $18m (that’s per team from a total purse of $420m prize money, up 60% on the 2006 tournament). Another thing I didn’t realise is that FIFA make an approximate £1,000 payment per player per day to their domestic clubs for their ‘loan’ to the tournament. But back to the totally unrealistic euphoria of the contest and just look at The Tulip (below), which has been ‘dressed up like that’ since early April, so all credit to Martin and his team for helping to create a sheer fantasy world of optimism. Because England won’t win. We won’t win because we can’t. Can we? Oh God, don’t say we can!
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The Tulip Sports Bar, Church Lane, Springfield, Chelmsford. Telephone: 01245 283219 Page 17
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What's luck got to do with it, asks Angela Hall?
Are you one of those people who are always suffering setbacks? Does little ever seem to go right for you? Are you dogged by constant instances of sheer bad luck? Do you sometimes feel that the universe is out to get you? Does Murphy's Law rule your world? Is it always raining on your side of the street? Well, I’ll let you into a secret: your luck is no worse or no better than anyone else’s. So stop believing that what happens in your life is down to the vagaries of luck, destiny, supernatural forces, malevolent other people, or anything else outside of yourself. I am tired of hearing people justify how they view the success or opportunities open to others by saying: "They are so lucky…". These days, so many people fall into the trap of thinking that someone is doing better than they are because they’re plain lucky. Yeah, right! As I reflect upon my own 'luck' over the years, there have been one or two occasions that do seem to have just come up trumps out of the blue, but most have arisen, at least in part, out of decisions/sacrifices I've made that have put me in a position to be 'lucky'. But my main point is that people are neither lucky nor unlucky. They are simply hardworking or lazy, persevering or weak-minded, patient or hotheaded. The key to success is never about luck. It is about having the right kind of attitude and the will to get where you want to be.
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So why do some people seem to be more lucky than others? Can luck be enhanced in some way? Is there something to the old saying: 'you make your own luck'? I guess some people have a mindset that others just don't possess. Are some people simply born to fail at everything they do, no matter what? I've seen people bust a gut trying to better themselves by attending night school, working three jobs, doing whatever they can yet never getting ahead, whilst others pop right out of school, land the perfect job, and everything seems to get handed to them on a silver platter without them ever appearing to try. Is this because they expect it, therefore it mysteriously comes to them? Is it luck? Is it because they know the right people? Or is there some grand plan when you are born into this life that you are going to experience certain things and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it? Is it just karma? Researcher, Richard Wiseman, a psychologist at the University of Hertfordshire, set out to investigate luck. He wanted to examine the impact on people's lives of chance opportunities, lucky breaks and being in the right place at the right time. After many experiments and research, he revealed that ‘lucky people’ generate good fortune via four basic principles: ! They are skilled at creating and noticing chance opportunities. ! ’Lucky people’ make ‘lucky decisions’ by listening to their intuition. ! They create self-fulfiling prophesies via positive expectations. ! ‘Lucky people’ adopt a resilient attitude that transforms bad luck into
good. The fact is, ‘unlucky people’ often fail to follow their intuition when making a choice, whereas ‘lucky people’ tend to respect hunches. ‘Lucky people’ are interested in how they both think and feel about various options, rather than simply looking at the rational side of any given situation. Personally speaking, I think this helps them because gut feelings act as an alarm bell - a reason to consider a decision carefully. ‘Unlucky people’ tend to be creatures of routine. They tend to take the same route to and from work and talk to the same types of people. They also miss ideal chance opportunities because they are too focused on looking for something else. They go to party's intent on finding their perfect partner and so miss opportunities to make good friends. They look through newspapers determined to find certain types of job advertisements and, as a result, miss other types of jobs. On the other hand, ‘lucky people’ are far more relaxed and open, and therefore see what is there rather than just what they might be looking for, which introduces variety into their lives. Do you have the Luck Factor? It isn't ALL chance! You can't just sit back and wait for luck to take its course. There are ways in which you can open yourself to a mass of opportunities. For instance, get out into the world more often, meet more people, volunteer, pursue your passion, do nice things for others, open yourself up to new (and sometimes uncomfortable) situations, and thus remain flexible and aware enough to recognise unique opportunities that present themselves to you.
You should also realise that every 'nobody' you meet could become a 'somebody' overnight, so dismiss people out of hand at your peril.The only thing separating the somebodies of this world to the nobodies is that somebody had an opportunity and seized it with a fantastic outcome. Everybody is a somebody at the end of the day, so the best thing we can all do is support others with finding their opportunities too. So, for those of you who think success, fame and fortune are down to sheer luck, think again. Luck is random - that's what chance means - so so-called ‘lucky people’ are just as likely to suffer setbacks as anyone else. What’s different about them is their response. When things go wrong, they quickly look for ways to put things right. They don't whine, pity themselves, or complain about ‘bad luck’. They try to learn from what has happened to avoid or correct it next time and get on with living their lives as best they can. Losers, on the other hand, are those who are convinced they will fail before they even start anything; sure that their ‘bad luck’ will ruin any prospects they might have of success. They rarely notice that the true reasons for their failure are ignorance, laziness, lack of skills, lack of forethought, or just plain foolishness - all of which they could do something to correct, if only they would stop blaming other people or ‘bad luck’ for their own personal deficiencies. So, for all of you self-pitying, greeneyed monsters out there, your luck, in the end, is pretty much what you choose it to be.
‘Give it a Grow’ this Compost Awareness Week 'Give it a Grow' is the message being put out by Recycle Now to mark the tenth annual Compost Awareness Week, which runs from 2-8 May 2010. This year, the Recycle Now campaign and Chelmsford Borough Council is encouraging us all to try our hand at new composting activities in order to do our bit for the environment, writes Mark Smith of Chelmsford Borough Council’s Recycling Team. Chelmsford residents are in for a treat once again this year as celebrity gardener Christine Walkden from 'The One Show' will be joining us in Chelmsford High Street on Friday 7th May. Christine will be offering top tips on growing your own food, showing you how to make the most of your garden, and answering all of your compost related questions; so why not pop down and get some advice from an expert on top of her game? Christine says: "During this Compost Awareness Week we are encouraging everyone to give composting a go. Even those of us who are already composting at home could compost more things more often, or try new things, such as greener, peat free composts. However you choose to get involved, there are plenty of new things you can try, which will not only help the environment, but also help your garden grow greener."
Here are just some of the things we could all try this Compost Awareness Week. ! New to composting? Why not give composting a go. Anyone with
outside space can compost at home. To buy a compost bin at a subsided rate, visit www.essex.getcomposting.com or call 0845 130 6090 for more details. ! Already a compost champion? Think about additional things you could compost, such as vacuum cleaner contents, tea bags, or even coffee grounds and filter paper. Check the list of compostable items at www.recyclenow.com/compost ! Don't know what to do with your compost? Try using your homemade compost to enrich your borders or to give your potted plants and containers an extra boost ! Ever tried peat-free compost? It's made from recycled materials and that's good news for the environment because it helps to cut down the amount of organic waste that is sent to landfill. ! Fancy being a wormery wonder? Wormeries are ideal for people who don't produce garden waste or have limited outside space. Small amounts of garden waste can go into a wormery, together with some cooked food scraps. It’s also a useful alternative to keeping goldfish! For further information on home composting or any other reduce, reuse, recycle related questions, please see www.chelmsford.gov.uk/recycling email: recycling@chelmsford.gov.uk or call us on 01245 615800.
www.chelmsford.gov.uk/recycling, email recycling@chelmsford.gov.uk or call 01245 615800 Page 18
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Do You Play Sport? Anyone who plays competitive sport will benefit from at least one monthly massage session, writes Alice Bayless of Chelmer Massage. You can warm up beforehand and cool down afterwards as much as you like, but a regular, professional sports massage really should play a part somewhere in the mix. Adding a sports massage to your fitness schedule can even help improve your performance levels. As your training and playing time piles up, so inevitably do those niggling aches and pains. Left untreated, you are asking for trouble. Left untreated, what at first might seem like just another niggle can often turn into a serious injury that might well leave you out of your chosen sport for months. Regular sports massage helps alleviate the chances of that happening by reducing the tension in your muscles in order to help keep you playing on a regular basis. It can also increase your recovery time between performances, meaning that you can train harder and more often. At Chelmer Massage, our goal is your well being. Whether you want just a one off massage or regular treatments, we are here to help. After a full consultation, we will treat your problem areas, reduce your muscle tension and increase your general well being, leaving you physically fit enough to unleash your inner Lionel Messi onto the world around you! The Edge Editor chips in: I still play sport (squash) regularly, but the older I get, the longer it takes my inevitable injuries to heal. Why oh why I don’t have massage sessions more often than I do I’ll never know. I have recently had a groin strain, after never having had one in my life, and apart from all the ooerr-snigger jokes associated with such an injury, did I seek help? No. I just left it and it has literally taken almost six months to heal....and it’s still not 100% right. Then there’s the recurring ‘tennis/squash elbow’ in my swinging arm. Not to mention my lower back which constantly aches. I was fortunate enough to have Alice’s ‘healing hands’ on both my elbow and lower back of late (I politely omitted to tell her about my groin strain) and apart from what she’s explained above, it is so wonderfully relaxing. If we hadn’t been chatting, I could have honestly fallen asleep! Personally, I know I take my body for granted and never treat it like it should be treated. I just expect it to work and get annoyed when it doesn’t. So don’t you be as daft as me. Don’t make the same mistakes I have.
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YOUR letters
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This month’s STAR EMAIL!
&
e-m@ils
to theedge!
CHELMSFORD, CM2 6XD. shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
Dear Edge, Please can you tell me what has happened to Lengthy Boy’s Bizarre News column and (a) is he as lengthy as it says on the tin, and (b) did he used to write those columns all by himself? Yours, Geoffrey Witchell, Chelmsford. My word, Geoffrey, your letter almost sounds like it could have been written by me, such is (seemingly) your disdain for The Lengthy One. Oh yes, ‘Young Matthew’ is definitely still hop, skipping and jumping about, as you can quite (not so) clearly see (above) when he found himself with his camera in hand beside that ‘Angel of the North’ contraption one morning at 6:00am, which to The Edge looks like some sort of cast-off piece of junk from an old Duran Duran video. As regards’ Lengthy Boy’s writing abilities, or complete lack of them....well, what do you think? E.E.
New Flavoured Crisps
Dear Edge, Is it right that Walkers (who use the
jug-eared Gary Lineker as their mascot) are bringing out 15 new flavours of crisps for the World Cup
Finals in South Africa? Yours munchingly, Jason Bartholemew, Tidcott St. Jasper. Apparently so, Jasper. I mean Jason. Each flavour supposedly represents a different nation. For instance, there’s Japanese Chicken Teriyaki flavour which supposedly tastes nothing like (more chicken stock than anything from the Orient). Then there’s Flame-Grilled Argentinian Steak which, and The Edge quotes from Crisp Monthly magazine, “requires a leap of the imagination so vast to identify any actual carcass you might as well use it to imagine something far more exciting, such as pouring olive oil over Russell Crowe’s chest, or Cheryl Cole’s (take your pick)”. Finally, English Roast Beef & Yorkshire Pudding flavour apparently lingers on the palate like a cold Sunday roast, stale grease et al. Lovely. E.E.
Moulon Rouge
Dear Edge, I am looking to impress my girlfriend by taking her out somewhere special. Tell me, is there anything like the Moulon Rough in Chelmsford? Regards, Gareth Holmes, Billericay. There’s Cafe Rouge, but that’s about it, Gareth. Sorry to disappoint. E.E.
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Industry expert Gary Wray of New Again, Chelmsford, thinks he has devised an easy way for motorists to find the best solution. Modern auto repair techniques, such as a smart repair, can very often save a driver £hundreds, not to mention all the hassle that goes with making an insurance claim. However, how do you know whether the scrape, scratch, dent or scuff mark that is affecting your car’[s appearance can be repaired without the need of a respray? And if it can be, how much would it cost? Gary says, “Most people simply don’t have
“Then it’s simply up to the motorist to decide whether he or she would like to proceed with an insurance claim, or choose a smart repair instead. “One of our many experts in their field will always be on hand to guide you, but it’s entirely up to you which company you use to carry our the suggested repairs. “At New Again, we choose to draw on the skills and experience of industry experts from all over the country.....in total fifteen
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Tel: 01245 350035 Page 20
The Edge 01245 348256
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EDGE REACHES
CHINA
THE HAIR BUSINESS L’Oreal Salon
Beauty
The Edge’s sincere thanks go to the Wood family of Chelmsford who recently bothered to take a copy of this fine, upstanding publication all the way out to the Far East with them. Check out Nic Wood (top left) showing the mag to the Terracotta Warriors at Xian. Only it’s Mrs. Wood (left) that’s the real reason to chortle. Just what is it about ladies of a certain age being shy over appearing in the mag? I mean, there she’s stood, on some giant pathway (it’s bound to be some tourist attraction or other), yet she clearly doesn’t want to be identified. Why not? Whatever have you got to hide... Teresa?
www.theedgemag.co.uk
Foil Highlights from £35 Gents Haircuts from £10 Cut & Blow Dry £30* * Afro-Caribbean hair extensions/braiding/weaving now available + hair extension & relaxer products for sale.
She was actually at it again in Tiananmen Square too, bless her.
14 Rainsford Road, Chelmsford, CM1 2QD.
But big thanks for taking the trouble to take these snaps and for sending ’em through, Ted.
TEL: O I245 358253
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ONLY JOKING! Einstein
Albert Einstein was born March 14, 1879. He would be 131 if he were alive today. Few people remember that the Nobel Prize winner married his cousin, Elsa Lowenthal, after his first marriage dissolved in 1919. At the time he stated that he was attracted to Elsa because she was very well endowed. He postulated that if you are attracted to women with large breasts, the attraction is even stronger if there is a Family Connection. This came to be known as Einstein's theory of 'Relative Titty'.
Skinny Dipping
An elderly man in Louisiana had owned a large farm for several years. With it he had a large pond out the back. It was properly shaped for swimming, so he fixed it up nice with picnic tables, horseshoe courts, plus some apple and peach trees. One evening, whilst he was out stretching his legs, the old farmer decided to go down to the pond, since he hadn't been down there for a while, simply to look it over. He also grabbed a two-gallon pale to bring back some fruit. As he neared the pond, he heard shrill voices shouting and laughing with glee. As he drew closer, he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping. He thought it only polite to make the women aware of his presence with a cough and they all scurried off to the deep end. One of the women said, “We're not coming out until you leave!” The old man frowned. “That’s fine,” he said. “I didn't come down here to watch you ladies get out of my pond naked.” And with that, he held up his bucket. “I only came down here to feed the alligator.”
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Change
There's an old sea story in the Navy about a ship's Captain who inspected his sailors and afterwards told the Chief Boatswain that his men smelled bad. The Captain suggested perhaps it would help if the sailors changed their underwear occasionally. The Chief responded, "Aye, aye, sir. I'll see to it immediately." So the Chief went straight to the sailors berth deck and announced, "The Captain thinks you lot smell disgusting and wants you to change your underwear. OK, Pittman, you change with Jones. McCarthy, you change with Witkowski. Brown, you change with Schultz." And the moral of this story is: Someone may come along and promise ‘change’, but don't count on things smelling any better.
Auntie Sharon
A teacher gave her class of 11 year olds an assignment: To get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it. The next day the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories. Adam said, “My father's a farmer and we have a lot of egg-laying hens. One time we were taking our eggs to market in a basket on the front seat of the car when we hit a bump in the road and all the eggs got broken.” “And what's the moral of this story?” asked the teacher. “Don't put all your eggs in one basket,” said the child. “Very good,” said the teacher. Next up was Sarah and she said, “Our family are farmers too, only we raise chickens. One day, we had a dozen eggs, but when they hatched, we only got ten live chicks.” “And what’s the moral to this story?” asked the teacher. “Don't count your chickens before they've hatched,” said the child. Then it was Little Jimmy’s turn. “My daddy told me a story about my Auntie Sharon. Auntie Sharon was a flight engineer on a ’plane in the Gulf War and her ’plane got hit, so she had to bail out over enemy territory. All she had with her was a bottle of whisky, a machine gun and a machete. So she drank the whisky on the way down so that it wouldn't break before she landed right in the middle of 100 enemy troops, seventy of which she killed straight off with her machine gun until she ran out of bullets. Then she killed twenty more with her machete until the blade broke. And then she killed the last ten of them with her bare hands.” “Good heavens,” said the teacher, horrified. “And what kind of moral did your daddy expect you to extol from that particularly horrible tale?” Little Jimmy said, “To stay well away from Auntie Sharon when she's had a drink.”
Coco Pops
A 7 year old and a 4 year old were upstairs in their bedroom. "You know what?" says the 7 year old, "I think it's about time we started swearing." His 4 year old sibling vigorously nodded his approval. "OK, so when we go downstairs for breakfast, I'm going to swear first, then you swear after me and back me up. Got it?" Once again, his 4 year old brother nodded enthusiastically, grinning like a Cheshire cat. So at the breakfast table, when their mum asked her eldest what cereals he wanted for breakfast, his reply was, "Sh*t mum, I guess I'll have some Coco Pops."
WHACK! He flew out of his chair, tumbled across the kitchen floor, got up, then ran upstairs to his bedroom, crying his eyes out. “And what about you, young man?” she said sternly, eyeing her 4 year old. “What sort of cereals would you like?” "Definitely not f *** ing Coco Pops,” came his petrified reply.
Wedding Anniversary
A couple were having an intimate meal to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary. At one point, the man leaned forward and softly said to his wife, "Darling, there’s something I must ask you. It has always troubled me that our fifth child never quite looked like the rest of our brood. Now, I assure you that the last forty years have been the most wonderful years of my entire life, and whatever your answer, nothing can take that away. But I must know. Did our last child have a different father?" His wife immediately held her head in shame, unable to look into her husband’s eyes. She paused to compose herself before admitting, "Yes. Yes, he did have a different father." Her husband immediately turned white, for he was shaken to his very core. The truth of what his wife had just admitted hit him very hard indeed. But he composed himself and, with a great big lump in his throat, asked, "Who? Who was he?” Once again, his wife hung her head in shame and said nothing at first, although she knew she had to tell her husband the truth. Finally, she said, "You."
Taxi Ride
A passenger sitting on the back seat of a taxi leaned forward to ask the driver a question, so gently tapped him on the shoulder to gain his attention. Immediately, the driver screamed, lost control of the cab, nearly hit a bus, drove up the curb and stopped but inches from a plate glass window. For a few moments everything was silent in the cab. Then, still shaking uncontrollably, the driver asked, “Are you OK?” The passenger, still stunned, said, “Yeah. I think so.” The driver said, “I'm so sorry, only you scared the living daylights out of me.” The badly shaken passenger apologised profusely and said he didn't realise that a mere tap on the shoulder would startle the driver so badly. The driver replied, “No, no, I'm the one who should be apologising. It's entirely my fault. You see, today’s my first day driving a cab. For the past 25 years I've been driving a hearse.”
Strange Pair Of Balls
Paddy is planning to get married and asks his family doctor how he can tell whether his brideto-be is still a virgin. His doctor says, "We Irish use three things for what we call a Do-It-Yourself Virginity Test Kit.... a small can of red paint, a small can of blue paint, and a shovel." Paddy says, "Aye. And what do I have to do with these three things, doctor?" The doctor replies, "Before you climb into bed on your wedding night, paint one of your balls red and the other ball blue.” “Aye,” says Paddy. “Is that it?” His doctor says knowingly, “If she says, "That's the strangest pair of balls I ever did see,” you’ll be sure to hit her with the shovel.” Like it says below.....so think on and DON’T SHOOT THE MESSENGER if you think that this little lot are crap!
All jokes published are supplied by Edge readers. Please send your ‘egg yokes’ to shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
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Posh Totty When they think about ‘posh totty’, as blokes have a penchant to do every now and then, most inevitably go for Relocation’s Kirsty Allsop, only The Edge cannot quite see the attraction. For starters, she’s F.T.H. (far too hefty), and for mains, well, she’s rather gobby too. So let this publication throw a name into the ring if it may: Naga Munchetty. Yes, I thought the vast majority of you might say: Who? Naga, whose first job was as a writer on the City Pages of the Evening Standard, is a financial journalist and currently a presenter on BBC2’s Working Lunch, that The Edge sometimes has a look at over a cheese and tomato sandwich. To all intents and purposes though, Naga, born in Streatham, The Edge thinks is pretty much East London’s answer to (isn’t it obvious?) Halle Berry.
“Perk to be enjoyed” A university vice-chancellor has been slated for suggesting that female students are a “perk to be enjoyed by male students”. He went on to say that many lecturers knew girls who “flaunted their curves” and compared the experience to a visit to Stringfellows, where one may look, but strictly not touch. The lecturers comments appeared in an article in the Times Higher Education magazine focusing on the seven deadly sins of university life. Such comments were condemned by the National Union of Students.
www.theedgemag.co.uk
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One of the many wonderful things about this country, apart from ASDA, is that we are free to exercise our right to
VOTE
So for Pete and Joanne and Bob and Michelle’s sake, and that of their children and parents, DO make sure that YOU do not abuse such a privilege on
6th May It’s a cop out to abstain. The very least you can do is put a little cross in a box.
The Virtual Movement
If you're a trend-following modernite, you'll have heard of the emergence of the Virtual Assistant, writes Sarah Bennett. However, if you descend from a more, shall we say Amish lifestyle, then let me educate you. The media love to describe Virtual Assistants, or VA’s, as women (usually) who have left their high-flying city careers to work from home and offer their acquired skills to those in need, usually for an hourly fee. Such an article is usually illustrated by a picture of a smiley girl sitting on her bed with her jim-jams on, hair-curlers in place, and a laptop perched on her knees. No, no, no, NO! VA’s are professional business people who choose to quit the rat-race to become their very own boss and fill an opening in the marketplace where the recession has left a huge gaping rut. Employers unable to take someone on full-time can now choose a capable, fully-trained VA and use their services as and when desired - similar to a pay-as-you go phone package - except there are no hidden costs. So what do VA’s do? From mail mergers to picking up your dry-cleaning, from arranging business travel to sorting out spreadsheets. VA’s exist solely to take on those tedious office burdens that a small business owner may not
have the time, energy or inclination to complete. Therefore, VA’s save on office space, overheads, permanent employee costs and reduce the stress of tedious employment law procedures. The array of VA is vast and any potential client should shop around to make sure they get the correct service to suit their business. Many offer free trials for the curious, whilst others specialise in certain areas, such as Marketing, Web Design, Recruitment, I.T., Lifestyle Management, Social Media, Book-keeping etc. My organisation, Your Diamond PA, is and does as its name suggests. It is a Virtual Business platform providing assistance with Admin, I.T., Recruit-ment, Book-keeping and much, much more. Although you might never meet me, I am very much alive and very much a real person dealing with your back office strains (oooh) whether you operate out of Baddow Road or Outer Mongolia - just so long as you have some means of modern communication. So if you are an unorganised business professional looking for the help of an organised business woman to assist your needs, do get in touch and experience the Diamond treatment. Chelmsford 01245 690177 info@yourdiamondpa.co.uk www.yourdiamondpa.co.uk
Chelmsford Property Professionals Recognised For Training Excellence
A Chelmsford based estate agent has secured a nationally recognised industry qualification and has joined a growing number of qualified agents across the UK. Lee McGoldrick, Scott Mason and Merrick Allen of The Home Partnership (pictured above) have passed the National Federation of Property Professionals (NFOPP) Technical Award in Sale of Residential Property, the industry standard for all estate agents working in this area. It is the required qualification for entry to the National Association of Estate Agents (NAEA).
Lee, Scott and Merrick have been working as estate agents in Chelmsford for a combined 30 years. Scott Mason comments, "We decided to start our studies as a result of wanting to gain formal recognition for our knowledge and experience within our industry. We are all thrilled to have secured the Technical Award. "For me, it is evidence of our professionalism and shows our clients they are dealing with people who are knowledgeable and who can be trusted to do a good job." The NAEA operates alongside three of the property sectors other leading professional bodies: the Association of Residential Letting Agents (ARLA), the National Association of Valuers and Auctioneers (NAVA), and the Institution of Commercial & Business Agents (ICBA). The NFOPP Awarding Body is accredited by the government's Qualifications and Curriculum Authority and offers nationally recognised qualifications across all disciplines in the property sector. The NFOPP Technical Award in Sale of
Residential Property is a Level 3 qualification within the National Qualifications Framework. The examinations for the qualification cover:Health and Safety, Security and General Law, Law relating to Residential Property, Practice relating to Residential Property Sales, and Property Appraisal and Basic Building Construction. Ruth Lilley, Head of Membership and Professional Development, explains: "The Technical Award is designed to offer a flexible, cost effective route for agents, or those seeking to join the profession, to improve their knowledge and gain a well-respected, nationally recognised professional qualification. "I heartily congratulate Lee, Scott and Merrick for their achievements, which represents a commitment not only to developing their careers, but also to achieving the high industry standards we seek as a body to promote."
The Estate Agent that works ...for YOU!
www.thehomepartnership.co.uk 88 Duke Street, Chelmsford CM1 1JP Telephone: 01245 250222 Page 24
The Edge 01245 348256
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GOLD - STARSKY & Jamie HUTCH TV GOLD - THETVMUNSTERS
‘GOLD! Always believe in your soul, you’ve got the power to know, you’re....’
does...
He might be a kipper-lipped cockney, but you have to hand it to ‘The Boy Oliver’, he is bloody good. That Jamie does... series that’s currently showing on the box (C4 on Wednesdays)...The Edge is just loving it, loving it, loving it. The one where he went to Marrakech readily springs to mind; it made me want to go there, which is always a good sign. Everyone’s got their favourite ‘celebrity chef’ and this lisping lardarse is definitely mine. I’ve managed to get hold of his recipe (without buying his book, tight get that I am) for his American Mountain Meatballs - I’m pretty sure that’s what they’re called - and I cannot wait to have a go at making them on a Saturday, when I’m all nice and relaxed (I couldn’t ponce about cooking during the week; I’m generally in far too much of a stressful state for that....but poncing about in the kitchen on a Saturday is quite a different matter). I also favour his measurements: “a good glug of this” and “whack some of that in there...larvely”. Yep, Jamie’s alright.
THE SWAN INN @ HATFIELD PEVEREL
The Street, Hatfield Peverel.
‘Live’ Music in May’10 Fri. 2ND 7TH SAT. 3RD Fri. 14TH Fri. 9TH 21ST 28TH Fri. 16th SAT. 23RD 29TH Fri. SUN.30TH 30th FRI.
HB E AD G LEEHSO G ENAO S ET XE CRU DS EI SSC O DMIACDK I HE AHBEI AT SR T Dc aO pG t Hu rO eUdS E DMREADGI COINN ES L A Y E R S SC THAAKREI OT YU TD I S C O
THURSDAY NIGHT ‘JAM NIGHTS’ One of the best weekly ‘jam nights’ in Essex with resident band Legend.
All musicians welcome. Just turn up, plug in and play!
Telephone: CHELMSFORD 3 8 0 2 3 8
And this month it’s The Munsters, that lovely sixties American sitcom depicting the home life of a family of monsters, headed by Herman with his square head and neck bolts. They considered themselves to be a typical working-class all American family, with Herman the only bread-winner. Whilst there were certain similarities between The Munsters and The Addams Family, the latter were principly eccentric, whilst the former were regular blue-collar citizens. Herman was played by actor Fred Gwynne, who could actually double as Bruce Forsythe’s cousin, if he weren’t dead. The original Victorian home of the Munster family was 1313 Mockingbird Lane in the fictional Mockingbird Heights. The town’s actual location was never specified in the series, but in later incarnations was described as a small town just outside of Los Angeles....if anyone cares?
NEW FOR SPRING/SUMMER 2010
NOVELTY GIFT IDEA How about this for a novelty birthday present? You can now get your own facial image put onto a box of 6 eggs. When they’re cracked open, instead of a yolk pouring out, a little miniature brain drops out which is in fact a ham flavoured chewy sweet. Ah, but it’ll never catch on, will it? But hey, that doesn’t stop pizza delivery companies thinking that if they stick enough leaflets through our letterboxes that one day we’ll eventually crack (now there’s a proper eggy term for you) and order a bumper 12-inch from them. Or how about estate agents continually sticking notes through our doors, telling us they can rent our houses out.....only then where would we live? shaun@theedgemag.co.uk
Paper mill Lock Our Old Stable Tea Rooms are open 10am - 5pm seven-days-a-week throughout Spring & Summer serving teas, coffes, hot chocolate, freshly made sandwiches, hot toasted sandwiches and real home-made cakes. Canadian Canoes available for hire £10 per hour. Now taking bookings for River Chelmer boat trips on our ‘Ceffyl’ and ‘Victoria Barge’ - the latter also available for private hire inc. birthday parties, weddings, anniversaries etc. ‘Live Music’ boat trips 7pm - 9pm on Thursdays (please ring for dates) at £20pp inc. Ploughman’s supper. ‘Live Music’ the first Sunday or every month in Tea Rooms 2pm - 5pm (All weather permitting....so pray for some sunshine!) FOR FURTHER DETAILS PLEASE SEE WWW.PAPERMILLLOCK.CO.UK
North Hill, Little Baddow. Tel: 01245 22 55 20 Page 25
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Meet Gustave. My article on Psychopaths last month inevitably led me to look into a few serial killers as well, and it was when I was comparing their respective body counts that I stumbled across someone who outstripped them all, and was certainly too good not to write about on this page. Gustave is a 66 year old Nile Crocodile who rules the waters of the Ruzizi river in Burundi. He is rumoured to have killed upwards of 300 people in his decades long career. In a strange way, it would be more comforting to put this impressive score down to the fact that he's a large, meat-eating predator, so of course he's going to eat people if he gets the chance. Unfortunately, Gustave usually feeds on Zebra and Wildebeest. People? Oh, he just kills them for fun. Dozens of witnesses over the years have reported Gustave rocketing from the water and literally tearing groups of people into little bits, before simply swimming off again, without even taking a cheeky lung to snack on later. I imagine you're wondering how anyone knows that all this is being done by the same Crocodile, right? Well, Gustave is easily recognisable. Not only is he an impressive 27 feet long, weighing in at 2.5 tonnes, he has several bullet scars across his massive body, including one in his face. That's right; even a rifle shot right in the face wasn't enough to stop Gustave from one of his numerous murderous rampages. I'm also going to assume that people know it's Gustave as, when he surfaces (presumably from the very bowels of hell itself), birds fall dead from the sky and the river boils and turns to blood.
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AND THIS MONTH... then found a pair of the stupidest goggles ever manufactured. Oh, and let's not forget the pimptastic cane that he's rocking as well.
Crocs can even live for about 80, so Gustave has still got a good few years of reptilian terror left in him, although at this point, scientists are theorising that he may actually be immortal as he gains his powers directly from the sound of human screams and the wailing of orphans.
writes
OK, I made that bit up, but I wouldn't go swimming in Burundi until at least 2030, just to be on the safe side.
Who is that masked Dickhead Hero? It's no secret that I'm a massive superhero nerd. I've been in love with the idea of costumed heroes dispensing justice to evildoers ever since I was a small boy, and at 35 years of age, there's still no sign of me growing out of it just yet.
Crocodiles are an interesting species in that, given enough time, living space and a steady supply of food, they pretty much keep on getting bigger. The average life span of a Croc in the wild is around 40 years, so Gustave is already ahead of the curve, even with various people trying to catch him and/or shoot him in the head. Page 26
On the ‘Superhero Registry’ website I found all these lunatics on, it gives each of them a little biography, listing their aims, and what drove them to become ‘Super’ heroes in the first place. Each of them also has an ‘Arch-Enemy’ section, and I found it strange that none of them had written ‘Common sense’ in there. Apparently, ‘Doktor Discord’ isn't interested in ‘Victimless crime such as drugs and prostitution, just the crime that makes old ladies scared to leave the house.’ Well, of course you're not against drugs and prostitution, Doktor. Without the double-whammy of hookers and Rohypnol, you'd never have sex again.
Pictured: A Twat After watching my Blu-Ray of Watchmen for about the 15th time the other night, I decided to look at the special features and found one all about vigilantism and people who’ve actually lived the dream, donning a costume and patrolling their home cities as masked avengers. No, I'm not making this up. These people actually design themselves a (usually shitty) costume, make up a (usually shitty) name, and then go out each night to fight the forces of evil.
Humanity 0 Gustave 300
Somehow, I just can't see the denizens of the criminal underworld shitting their pants when he leaps out from the shadows, though the posof a laughterKingpin sibility induced hernia should not be ruled out.
Of course, part of me absolutely loves this idea, almost to the point of reaching for the spandex; but that small part of me that is actually pretty sensible has to admit one simple fact: these people all look like complete bell-ends. Just take a look at self-styled ‘Doktor Discord’ (above) for a case in point. Basically, he's stolen a French onion seller's T-shirt, chucked on a coat from TK Maxx, wrapped some of his pants round his face, and
As much as I love the idea of superheroes, it's a sad fact that they just don't work in the real world. Unless you have an honest to goodness superpower; unless you can fire lighting from your fingertips or croissants from your arsehole, you'll just end up a complete and utter laughing stock. However, I feel an honourary mention must go to our very own UK born and bred ‘Angle Grinder Man’. Yep, I know it sounds a bit stupid, but A.G.M. spends his weekends patrolling the streets of London (with an angle grinder, naturally) freeing motorists who have had the misfortune of being wheel clamped, which really is striking a blow for justice.
though, I don't have the moral outrage about lying that a lot of people do. I see it as a useful (almost necessary) survival skill and have nothing but respect for a well structured lie, told to me with absolute sincerity. Apparently, we learn to lie at a very early age, and if we get away with that first foray into the world of politics (sorry, lying), then we're far more likely to keep on doing it, whilst developing and honing our skills. The more attractive among us are also considered to be the best liars, seeing as we're all predisposed to believe something said by someone we find good looking. So that’s me doubly screwed then, seeing as I look like a cross between Bob Hoskins and Christopher Biggins. The truth of the matter (boom boom!) is that we all do it, so surely it's better to do it well than to be crap at it? At the very least, knowing the usual tell-tale signs of lying is something that we should all educate ourselves in, so that we're far better equipped to talk to car salesmen, politicians and/or attractive people. The 3 core ‘tells’ for lying are: ! Speaking quickly with excessive fluctuations in both tone and pitch. ! Avoidance of eye contact. ! Hesitancy when questioned on details.
Of course, the really good liars among us already know about these and will doubtless ensure they portray none of these signs, so it really is a very tricky situation. I find the best course is to take the default stance that everything I hear is bollocks, including anything I say myself as well.
So now all I need is a real life ‘Marlboro Man’ to swoop down with a new pack of twenty every time I run out.
Liar, liar, pants on fire. Are you a good liar? I'd love to be a good liar, but I suck at it. A good lie should be simple, to the point, and easy to remember, only I can never stop embellishing things, due to my love of a really good yarn. Pretty much every lie I ever tell ends up involving a lesbian volleyball team and 58 Ninja turtles, so people can usually tell when I'm telling porkies. Personally speaking
No smart-alec caption required. Everything that comes out of his mouth is bullshit.
Kingpin www.theedgemag.co.uk
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BIG cars They’re not the place to go solely to buy a big car....although they can get you ‘a big one’ if you like....if that’s how you define your cars (i.e. big, medium-sized, small etc.). Fact is, you can buy any make (or size) of car from Big Cars.
Page 27
Wella trend vision finalist, Axis Hair Studio, is situated in the West End of Chelmsford, in Wells Street, just behind the railway station (off Duke Street, opp. Bus Station).
welcomes back Heather!
Axis have recently welcomed back Heather to their creative fold. Heather rejoins the Axis team after taking a year out to have her beautiful son, Henry. Heather is a professional hair stylist of some 20 years standing. In that time she has represented Great Britain on stage in Paris, Belgium and London.
They source both new and used vehicles at discounted prices from a network of some 600 UK motor dealerships. They can also sell your vehicle for you too, if you’d like them to. And they offer low finance rates for customers with a good credit rating. Formerly based in Hatfield Peverel, Big Cars turned over a cool £1million last year....easy, tiger.
Remember, there’s often far more to a name than meets the eye.
09:03
its all change at
The Edge doesn’t want any of its readers to be confused where Big Cars are concerned, newly opened in Wharf Road, Chelmsford (on route to Waterfront Place).
For further details, contact Adam Stott on Chelmsford 200300 or adam.stott@big-cars.co.uk
23/04/2010
Heather has also being invited to complete a photo shoot with Wella UK. The all new Axis Hair Studio will have its make-over complete by early May. Not only has the salon been reinvented, but the whole creative team are feeling reinvigourated and remotivated for summer! Watch out in The Edge for future Axis promotions and discounts. We look forward to seeing you.
your first Bring this advert along on your visit to receive 50% OFF cut & finish!
8 Wells Street, Chelmsford, CM1 1HZ.
TEL: 01245 284444
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Bang & Olufsen of Chelmsford 16-18 New London Road, Chelmsford, Essex, CM2 0SP Tel: 01245 266117 Email: chelmsford@bang-olufsen.co.uk www.bang-olufsen.com/chelmsford
Bang & Olufsen of Leigh on Sea 91 Broadway West, Leigh on Sea, Essex, SS9 2BU Tel: 01702 477741 Email: leigh@bang-olufsen.co.uk www.bang-olufsen.com/leighonsea The Edge 01245 348256
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FIFTY...NOT OUT topdraw media.com web site design solutions that work! website design media design internet promotion www.topdrawmedia.com T: 0208 133 8279
A Little Bit of Greenery Hands up if you consider yourself green. If that question had been asked twenty years ago, it's only Martians and people feeling sea-sick that would have their limbs aloft. But the English language has evolved, as it has forever, and we all now have a completely different understanding of the word green.
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What it means now, of course, is that you are aware of the environment. There we go again, another word that means more now than it did a while back. Environment has taken on a special meaning. It's no longer a term that describes the area around you - your desk, for example, or your house, or any other space in your vicinity. No, the environment now means greenhouse gasses, global warming, driving horrible looking cars, and segregating your beer cans from your wine bottles. Which brings us to today’s sermon. In fact, sermon is a good word to use because most greenies are evangelical about the environment. They will nag for hours if you leave a light on, or use a supermarket plastic bag, or, heaven forbid, have the central heating thermostat turned up beyond luke-warm. Greenery is now a religion, and in its follower's eyes you are either a convert, or you aren't. But you don't have to be a climate change denier to express a few doubts about the zeal with which greenies bang on about their chosen subject. It is entirely possible to be a responsible human being without going to extremes of environmentalism, just as it's entirely possible to be a good person without believing in any sort of divine entity. So why is it, then, that a certain type of person gets totally obsessed with your rubbish? What we are talking about, of course, is the nameless bureaucrat in the town hall that decides you are to be persecuted over what you throw away, and how you do it. This harassment can take many forms. For example, should you not correctly segregate your empty whiskey bottles from your discarded copies of Tits’n’Bums, then woe betide you, my son, for thou shalt be fined by that great rubbish
master in the town hall. Then again, you might have left your wheelie bin ten centimetres to the left of where it should be, according to council rules, and for that dreadful sin you will be punished by it not being emptied. So that's a stinky back yard for you this week, you evil person. Where this leads to, of course, is the notion that it's no longer bond traders and derivatives dealers that are Masters of the Universe, to use Tom Wolfe's wonderful phrase. No, the new kings of all they survey are bin-men, because they have the power to make your life a misery. What’s more, they'll probably take great pleasure in doing so too. So don't forget to tip them at Christmas or these people could lead you to the lunatic asylum if you don't give them the respec' dem deserve. There is a further point to be made around this. It's a certainty that the vast majority of people in this country that get worked up about the environment, greenery and recycling issues are relatively affluent middle class people. They're the ones with a conscience - the great unwashed of the underclass don't give a flying fig and far from thinking about recycling, can't even be bothered with ordinary litter bins. They just chuck their empty burger boxes on the pavement. Crucially though, these people don't have much money. So, as usual, it's the easy targets that are being, well, targeted. The conscience that makes you worry about the environment is an ideal excuse for the government and local councils to extract ever more taxes from you. They will say that it's to help pay for green initiatives, but we all know they'll simply waste it on more civil servants doing non jobs with nice copper bottomed pensions. Alcohol Tsar, for example, or maybe Equalities Officer. You know, the sort of jobs that add not one jot to human happiness, and in fact are there to make life more uncomfortable for every normal person, but crucially allow a few more boxes to be ticked on one of Gordon Brown's lists. That's where your green taxes are going, matey. Meanwhile, all that rubbish you've so carefully segregated will be chucked in a bloody great ship, taken to China and buried in a big hole in the ground because that's cheaper than doing anything else with it. One last test of your green credentials for those who raised their hands back there a bit. Have you really, truly, honestly, never chucked the two dead AA batteries from your remote control into the general rubbish? If you can answer that in the positive, then we should salute you. But actually, you are a saddo.
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IDEAL HOME EXHIBITION LESS THAN IDEAL ALL CARS WANTED Telchristie Car Sales
The Edge definitely won’t be rushing back to the Ideal Home Exhibition at Earls Court in a hurry. For a start, we opted to go by train, on a Saturday, only to discover, once at Chelmsford railway station, that we’d have to disembark at Romford and catch a bus to Newbury Park (I don’t even know where Newbury Park is), where we’d then have to get on the tube. Sod buggering about like that for a game of soldiers. As a non-commuter, news like that is enough to send me scuttling off to the hills. What’s more, I’d already had to turn down a lunchtime Easter invite “Guaranteed to pay a fair price” to the pub to watch the Chelsea v. Man. Utd. title decider (presumably) ‘live’ on Sky, so my day was already going from bad to worse....but I’d promised the wife (you know how it is). So instead, we jumped back in the car and headed for the DLR, only that wasn’t working either. Any car, new or old, with or without I couldn’t believe it. an MOT. All cars bought & sold. Eventually we ended up at Stratford and parked in the Stratford Centre, which would cost us either £12.00 or £17.50 depending on how long we were, which had me sweating (just a bit). TEL: 0800 2343207 or 07980 923760 Thank God we managed to take advantage of a ‘two for one’ (internet offer) to get into the exhibition itself, or that’d have been another seventeen quid down the swanny. And what a load of rubbish it was. You might just be able to make out the Nissan stand in the photograph below, and there was also ‘a right big boat in some water’. What’s Ideal Home about either of those? Get back to Birmingham and Southampton respectively. What capped it for me was when The truth revealed! I saw the good lady wife join a gaggle of other women around a bloke demonstrating a revolutionary new dishcloth. Yep, at that precise moment, I really did start to look around for the nearest noose to put my head through. The way I see it, we might as well have driven to the nearest retail park and gone into Topps Tiles, followed by a shop selling rugs, followed by a couple of kitchen showrooms etc. etc. etc. and then gone to watch the match down the pub with my mates. Unit 8, Sandon Lodge Farm, Sandon, Chelmsford, CM2 7SG. Tel. 01245 477022 What a hideous bore. Some things you can forgive your wife for....and some things you can’t.
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I don't know about you, but one thing that has really started to irritate me is shops that keep trying to sell me things I don't need. Take, for instance, the other day in a well known chemists. I popped in at lunchtime to buy some women's personal things and joined the inevitable queue to pay. I’m an old fashioned girl at heart and hate those adverts that say ‘have a happy period’ and show a woman skateboarding all over the place. I just want to be left in peace to be a woman, discreetly, if you know what I mean. Eventually the female cashier picks up my purchase and asks me whether I’ve used them before. “Every month,” I say. She then asks me whether I’d like a consultation on the product. I spot some spotty youth nearby wearing a sash that says ‘customer advisor’, so immediately say, “Thank you, but no thank you.” Only then she asks me whether I’m on any medication? I was about to say, “DO I LOOK LIKE I TAKE PROZAC?” but shake my head instead and hold out a five pound note. She then holds up the product and shouts to the pharmacist, “Can you come and authorise feminine products, please?” Only for the pharmacist to blatantly ignore her. Fancy having a box of Tampons waved about above you head? By now, about 10 people are in the queue behind me, all staring at me. So much for being discreet. Eventually the pharmacist looks up and nods his approval. I sigh with relief. At last I can pay and go now. But oh no. “Have you got an advantage card?” No, I haven't. “Would you like one?” No, I wouldn’t. “May I ask why?” No, actually, you may not. “Would you like a bag?” That’d be handy as I hardly want to walk through town with a box of Tampax in my hands. “Four pence bag or a six pence bag?” By now I am starting to lose my grip. “Have you got access to the internet?” No, I lie. “You could win £1,000 if you recommend 10 friends.” Ten Friends? Would I choose to put any of my friends through this kind of hell? “Do you have a mobile phone? You can text to this number.” I tell her that I don't want to text anything or anyone. I just want to pay and go. “Do you use Ruby & Millie cosmetics?” By this time the queue is probably snaking half way down the High Street. “If you spend £20 today you’ll qualify for a free voucher for 10% off.” I exploded and informed her in no uncertain terms that I simply wanted to pay and get the hell out of there. I didn’t want anything for free, nor did I wish to join any schemes or buy any make-up. I simply wanted to be on my way.
“We don’t tolerate customers who are rude to staff and use bad language.” Then she fairly banged my change down on the counter. Did I hear a, “Thank you for shopping with us?” Nope, I must have missed it. I abruptly turned on my heels and and stalked out, utterly speechless and silently fuming. I went straight to a coffee shop to calm my nerves. I ordered a cappuccino and a scone. “Sorry, no scones left,” the girl informed me. I opt for a muffin instead. “Sorry, no muffins left either.” I ask her what she has got left. “Er, nothing.” I settle for the cappuccino. “No cappuccino either.” What? A cup of tea with skimmed milk then, please, I plead? “Sorry, no skimmed milk.” Nor full-fat milk either, if you can believe it. “But you're a coffee shop?” I point out. “And it’s still only lunchtime. What the bloody hell’s going on?” Blank look. “Surely someone must be in charge around here?” “Manager’s away on a risk assessment course this week. Customer safety and food hygiene. She does all the ordering.” “Waste of time,” says I. “No-one’s going to choke to death in this shop. There’s nothing to choke on.” I settle for a glass of sparkling water. “Can I interest you in one of our loyalty cards; buy 10 coffees, get one free?” I was tempted to inform her that no sane person would remain loyal to this particular franchise, but refrained. After which I was forced to adopt the stance of a rugby player to run the gauntlet of all those people in the town centre with clipboards, who chase you down the street trying to sell you power schemes, catalogues, and charity subscriptions. In all honesty, I am sick to death of being harassed to join this scheme or that, when all I really want is good service from the places I visit. And heaven help you in WH Smith nowadays if you pop in merely to buy a ’paper. “Can I interest you in half price bar of chocolate?” Er no, just the ’paper, please. “Do you need any ’phone credit? What about stamps?” Clearly they are being taught to say this, but are they not forgetting that I took my custom into their shop voluntarily and deserve to be treated with a little bit of respect and gratitude? I have little to no willpower as it is, so I hardly want bars of chocolate stuffed in my face. Tut, walking around the shops is about the limit of my daily exercise regime, so the last thing I need is a half-price family sized bar of Galaxy to munch on. So please take note, all you shops out there, if you don't want to go the way of Woolworths, who used to employ butch women with big badges whose sole purpose in life was seemingly to hard sell their customers DVDs and half-a-pound of pick’n’mix at the checkouts. People obviously began to get scared of going in there by chance they got lumbered with 20 out-of-date Easter eggs and an Eldorado box-set that they began avoiding the store altogether. Surely that's the real reason the Woolies went bust - they frightened all of their customers away! So come on, shops, give us a break. I love visiting you, but even a shopaholic like me is beginning to think the internet’s a far safer bet.
Tracie123@aol.com
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