The Edge August 2011

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EDGE

the ISSUE NO: 178

shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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The Edge Chelmsford CM2 6XD

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AUGUST 2011

Mobile: 077 646 797 44

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NOW RECRUITING We are currently looking for Stylists to join our busy and creative team at TONI&GUY Chelmsford Please call for details To book an appointment please call or visit : T : 01245 256460 225/226 Moulsham Street, Chelmsford, CM2 0LR

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Coming to a campsite near you...

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This is me and my mate J-Cloth, readers, at your editor’s 50th birthday celebratory weekend ‘camping’ not up a mountain, but in the middle of a field near the wonderful Dorset coast. To be fair, we didn’t go so far as to sniff each others shirts, but J-Cloth does actually own a horse and, what’s more, knows how to ride one.....which saved my hind quarters.

The Edge 077 646 797 44

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round there. Figuring I hadn’t stalled a car since I was 17, I decided to risk it.

Bingo! Ended up saving myself thirty quid on the battery. Only then I got to wondering (and not for the first time) how tight that actually makes me? I mean, it was absolutely hissing it down when the AA man got me going again and the temptation to say to him, “Oh, go on then, stick it on” when he offered me his battery was immense, as it certainly would have saved me a drive out in such deplorable conditions.

But it wouldn’t have saved me 30 quid, would it?

No, it wouldn’t, Mr. Squeaky Pockets.

Yep, that’s me. Tight as arseholes!

The Edge Editor’s Column OH BUGGER I tend to get a bit flustered when stuff such as my car not starting happens because (a) I know sweet bugger all about the mechanisms of cars, or any working or non-working machine, come to that. And (b) I immediately think that I need a new one as it must obviously be completely spent.

As it turned out, it was only the battery that needed replacing.

“I’ve got one on the van with me, if you’d like me to fit it for you, sir?” said the kindly AA man.

“How much?” immediately replied the northerner deep-set within me. “£105,” said he.

“Ooooh, in that case, can you just get me started instead, please.” I offered.

Which he did. Only then I had to suffer the sheer trepidation of a new battery costing me more from the guys I use at round at C&C (off Navigation Road, readers, if you want to save yourselves some money getting your car fixed and serviced), not to mention the terror of me actually stalling the damn thing on my drive

PULA Did you see that ‘Three Men in a Boat’ thing (Rory McGrath - The Edge’s favourite, Dara O’Briain - too fat, and Griff Rhys Jones - doesn’t drink, so don’t trust him) where they went to Venice?

Loved it.

However, as soon as Rory walked into the Roman amphitheatre at Pula, Croatia, I was clenching my fist and going “Yesss!” at the TV screen in agreement, for this is what he said: “It’s better than the one in Rome, isn’t it?”

BLOODY HELL What the hell’s happened to all me advertisers?

The July Edge was such a good edition (well, I thought it was) then woomph, the arse has just fallen right out of it.

“We’ll be back in September,” many of my regulars have said, “but everyone’s away in August, so it’s not worth bothering about.”

Isn’t it?

Well, it has been for the past 14 years, so what’s so bloody different about 2011?

Sod it, then. I may as well get our tent out and bugger off camping to Cornwall with Mrs Edge!

REFUSES TO MEND If there’s anyone out there who reckons they can fix my shoulder and receive a glowing report in The Edge for doing so, then please do get in touch.

The problem has honestly been dragging on for 2 - 3 months now and I’ve completely had enough.

It’s times like these you wish you had BUPA, I can tell you, yet nor have I the spare funds to be knocking on the door of the Springfield Medical Centre either, more’s the pity.

My shoulder is genuinely stopping me doing the sporting activities I like to participate in, not to mention restricting me in other ways too numerous to mention. So please, is there’s anyone out there, kindly get in touch.

GIMP BOY/GIRL I was actually serious when I mentioned, in last months mag, that I needed a Gimp boy/girl or college leaver (whatever) to do stuff for The Edge on t’internet, Facecock and Twatter etc., so lets be hearing from anyone who believes themselves to be wasting far too much time on such sites with no real purpose in mind.

BUS INTO TOWN Got the bus into town the other day (well, you’ve got to these days, haven’t you) and the Polish driver sullenly requested two pounds something or other to take me to the station.

“Eh?” said I. “But it was only £1.70 a week or so ago.”

“Always been this price,” he said.

Before proceeding to take me all around the fecking houses just so’s I got my money’s worth.

THE EDGE Chelmsford CM2 6XD 01245 348256 shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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The Edge 01245 348256

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SHITTO

That’s Not Me So I’m sat with the quack. Nice (youngish) lady and I am busy pouring my heart out to her over my busted shoulder. I am telling her, “It’s been three months now and the darn thing is refusing to heal.”

So she has a little feel of it (the shoulder). It’s a hot morning and her hands are nice and cold on my skin.

“Hmmmm,” she says, before picking up the telephone. When it is answered, she says, “I have a fifty year old man...”

‘Tum-tee-tum’ I am musing, as I am sitting their, patiently waiting for her to attend to her other business of the day. “....with a continuing shoulder complaint....”

AND THAT’S WHEN IT STRUCK ME LIKE A BOLT OF LIGHTENING FROM RIGHT OUT OF THE BLUE, readers, for she was actually talking about meeeeee!

Christ, when she mentioned the word fifty down the blower, I thought she was on about some old geezer like the bloke above. Only she wasn’t. She had my records up on her screen and she was damn well talking about me. Bloody me?

Well, that really was a shock, I can tell you.

Just not used to being 50 at all, yet.

What’s the point of one totally unsuspecting person winning something ridiculous like £160million (or whatever the astronomical figure was) on the weekly Lotto (or Euro Lotto or whatever it’s bloody well called) when what they ought be doing in such situations - if that’s the amount in the kitty - is guaranteeing sixteen separate winners a one million knicker cash bonanza each.

Why give just one person far too much and an amount they clearly wouldn’t be suitably capable of handling, no matter how much they might want it, when you could make sixteen people literally piss their pants with happiness instead?

For instance, The Edge spends a quid per week on the Lotto and has only ever won a tenner. What sort of a return is that?

Just say, though, just say, that if every one of the 10,000 people who pick up a copy of The Edge every month were to put a fiver each into a pot and we all drew straws, then the lucky winner would walk away with £50,000 on a regular monthly basis.

Now I am telling you straight, readers, I would far rather spend £60 per year with the chance of winning £50,000 every single month than shell out £52 per year and carry on winning sweet bugger all on the Lotto like I have been doing for God knows how long. What say you?

Because if you all think the same way as The Edge does, hell, why don’t we JUST DO IT? Oh sure, no doubt there are laws against doing such a thing, but I’m almost certain our very own Kingpin could find a way around them.

So how about it?

I honestly think it would be BRILLIANT and I’d even be happy for whoever won the fifty grand each month....whereas I both loathe, hate and despise those lucky, lucky Lotto winners.

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WHAT THIS PICTURE SAYS TO THE EDGE...

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OAP’s MON-THURS.

They were certainly playing outside the best pub in the world (the Square & Compass at Worth Matravers, situated at the head of a valley running down to the ‘Ledges of Winspit’ on the beautiful jurassic coast) and it just so happened to be on the weekend of my 50th birthday celebrations, so how lucky a bloke was I? We also got wind of the fact that the weather back in Chelmsford was somewhat inclement to say the very least, so a double-bonus for we intrepid (eight) travellers.

I’d even go so far as to say that this particular afternoon proved to be one of the best afternoons of my entire life. A great pub, great view, great people around you, lovely music and some wonderful, wonderful cider. Aye, life don’t get no simpler or taste no sweeter.

Dorset might be a few counties away from Essex, but so far as I’m concerned, it might as well be another bloody country entirely, for every time I visit, I feel as though I’m entering an entirely different land and culture, particularly the bit we go to.

When you come to think about it, the magic doesn’t happen very often in life, does it? And sometimes it really does seem to be that you’ve got to have a really major excuse to get the people you want all together, even if it’s just eight. In this particular instance, six months notice had to be given!

Well worth the wait though.

So how does this ‘old man’ feel now that his long weekend of celebrations are finally over?

Gutted. Absolutely gutted. Because now I’m just another middle-aged fella struggling and muddling his way through life, yet for one afternoon at least, it honestly felt as though things couldn’t get any better.

Dancing the afternoon away...

Big venue stadiums, crap, overpriced lager and the music belting out to a 75,000 crowd, or something far more intimate just off the coast?

Anyway, why don’t you check out both the Square & Compass and Niall Teague & The Fast Company on the web for a little flavour of what you missed.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know I should be promoting a local pub and a local band, but cut me some slack, will you, readers, cos I’m feeling incredibly tender right about now, seeing as I’ve reached such a ripe old age.

Cheers!

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up. were lapping it Even the dogs

Mr. Charisma ak a Kelvin Busher on the double bass - a right cheeky chappy if ever th ere was one. shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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crazier. And that is perhaps, just perhaps, we know how to have a bloody good time and TV show or not, other counties just can’t handle the fact.

IKR

Simply Satin The Tacky One

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Don’t you just love Essex, what with its sleazy reputation and the general consensus of it being the ‘tacky one’ of the Home Counties?

Not fair, is it?

I honestly don’t have any friends called Sharon or Tracy and I’ve never worn a pair of six inch stilettos, never mind white ones.

I thought there might just have been a slim chance of the ‘Essex Girl’ stereotype becoming dated and fading away into obscurity, and it actually did seem as though there was a fighting chance for our beloved county to redeem itself at one time. But then something happened.

That bloody TV show and its shameless typecasting, ruining any chance Essex ever had of recovering its reputation.

I think it borders on slander.

However, the thing that gets me is that many people in Essex actually seem to watch it and lap it up. Encourage it, even.

If the excited Facebook status updates about what’s going on in the nonsensical show from people who I hesitate to call my friends wasn’t enough to convince me of it, the fact that Dukes recently used a ‘The Only Way Is Essex Reunion Party’ as a promotion finally brought it home to me LOUD & CLEAR. If Dukes thought they could market the craze, then the clamour surrounding ‘The Only Way Is Essex’ was clearly worse than I initially suspected.

N.B. Just for the record, Dukes promotion did really well and I am told the night in question was “really good”, God help us.

I remember first seeing the TV ad for the show and my eyes actually widened in disbelief before turning to horror. I thought, “Oh please, God, noooo!’ And I’d hoped with all my heart that it would simply crash and burn.

Only it hasn’t. But then, it wouldn’t, would it.

Because perhaps the sheer ridiculousness of the show somehow makes it (ahem) ‘compulsive viewing’.

I honestly can’t see it myself. It frustrates me.

I tried to bring myself to watch a full episode, but couldn’t. What’s more, I’ll never try again.

It’s not good for me (and it shouldn’t be good for anyone). I could feel my brain slowly wasting away. In fact, its only redeeming feature appears to be that it’s set off a chain reaction so a whole host of other equally God awful ‘reality’ shows seem to be popping up, like ‘Geordie Shore’ and ‘Made In Chelsea’ which, on the surface, sounds like a damn good reason to throw yourself out of the nearest window, although the way I see it is that hopefully people will be able to see that there are brainless bimbos who use far too much fake tan and boys with half-a-brain-cell who ‘go’ for said bimbos all over the country.

In short, no, IT’S NOT JUST AN ESSEX THING! However, there definitely is something about Essex that sets it apart from other counties, something that makes it just that little bit.....

I know I’m probably a little young to be saying this, but some of the stuff the youth of today come out with is plain ridiculous.

Take, for instance, the word ‘awesomated’. It’s something my younger sister brought home from school. So I looked it up on Urban Dictionary, mostly to check the spelling, and it’s defined as: the state of being better than 'awesome'.

Then there’s my brother’s favourite ‘bare hilare’ which is defined as: a phrase used to describe someone who is very funny.

Forget the words, how about the acronyms?

Bloody confusing! IKR (I know, right)?!?!

But it’s not just the youth of today, is it? The weirdest thing of all, I think, is when I hear my very own father, a learned man, using such ‘youthisms’. For instance, just the other day he replied to a comment left on a forum, mentioning in his post that he was ‘ROFL’ (rolling on floor laughing) at the other persons comment.

In fact, come to think of it, it was actually my very own dad that introduced me to ‘LOL’.

Bollocks To Poverty I’m excited!

Want to know why?

This month, I’m throwing a massive Pre-V, Post(exam) Results Party for charity as part of the ’Bollocks To Poverty’ tour, and it is going to be frigging AWESOME! ActionAid, an international development charity, works with some of the poorest people and communities in the world and co-ordinates the ‘Bollocks To Poverty’ tour. By going to, or putting on, an event as part of the tour, anyone can help their vital work in Africa, Asia and the Americas, and play a part in the ongoing fight against global poverty.

Everything’s set up. I’ve got an awesome venue, some awesome DJ’s and - yes, you guessed it an awesome charity to support!

Want to join me?

We’ll be partying at The bar in Chelmsford from 10pm ’til 2am on Thursday 18th August to the sounds of commercial, electro, house, breaks, dubstep and trance, with DJ Gary Bright plus a couple of Essential Clubbers DJ’s. Tickets are £4.50 on the door, or £3.50 prior, and at least £1 from each ticket goes straight to ActionAid (registered charity no. 274467).

In fact, it’s going to be so, erm, awesome that I know a couple of people from Holland who are thinking about coming over just for the night!

So please have a look at the website www.wix.com/vipro5/partyforcharity to find out more about the charity, the event, and the DJ’s.

Or simply go ahead and buy your advance tickets by going to www.wegottickets.com and searching for ‘Pre-V, Post-Results Party For Charity’.

Hey, and do tell all your friends and your neighbours and hell, even your neighbours dog, if they’ve got one. In fact, why not let the whole world know. Yeah, let’s get up and party and say absolute bollocks to poverty!

For more information about ‘Bollocks to Poverty’ and ActionAid, please visit... www.actionaid.org.uk/bollocks And for anything else regarding this event, tickets and any other enquiries, simply email v.i.pro@live.co.uk Hey, readers, I guess we’ve got to cut Satin some slack as she is The Edge’s youngest writer by some considerable margin...and we were young once too. Remember?

E.E. The Edge 01245 348256

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OH NO, NOT AGAIN, MAURICE!

Hi Shaun, Enclosed photo taken in Zand Square - Brugge. Had a long weekend there with my wife celebrating our 50th Wedding Anniversary.

Not looking overly happy as it rained all the time and the food and drink was very expensive.

Left a copy of the June Edge at the Park Hotel where we stayed.

Best wishes, Maurice Crick.

Ahhhh, Maurice lad, whatever is The Edge going to do with you, eh?

Come on, admit it, you just like appearing in the mag, don’t you?

I mean, whatever is this photograph? I can’t fathom it out. Looks like you’re on a rooftop with some chimney stacks, or perhaps somewhere in Beaulieu Park. Bugger, that’s it! You’re in Beaulieu Park, aren’t you, lad?

And this is just another one of your ploys to get your picture in The Edge wearing those ultra-scary sunglasses of yours that make you look as if you’re about to morph into a bluebottle or something.

Tell you what, Mo, let’s cut out the middleman (The Edge) and announce to the readers that if they want to see any more photographs of you holding a copy of the mag, they can always find you at Costa Coffee! E.E.

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www.backinntime.co.uk The Edge 077 646 797 44

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EDGE ROUND UP

Paperboys Raised £3,000 Not sure enough credit went to The Paperboys for completing the London to Brighton 54 mile cycle ride in aid of the British Heart Foundation, as featured in last months Edge, so here’s a bit more praise: “WELL DONE, LADS!” And the boys are (from the left): ‘Big Steve’ Yarnell, Ian Rice, Natalie Rice (Christ, a woman!), Mick Pitcher, Phil Antonio, Monty Montgomery, Frazer Wilkie and Colin Adams who all completed the route on Raleigh Choppers.

Self Defence Programmes, Basic Martial Arts Programmes,Black Belt Programmes, Personal Martial Arts Training Award Winning Martial Arts & Self Defence Academy ‘Laurence Sandum’s Black Belt Martial Arts Academy’

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Bacon & Eggs There’s bacon & eggs for breakfast and then there’s a canteen (on New London Road) bacon & eggs for breakfast and oh The Edge’s word, their grub is just so damn good. Look at this gorgeous lean bacon - done just right - poached eggs cooked to perfection with just the yellowest yolks you’ll ever see, and a chunky doorstep or two of toasted granary bread.

Yummy, yummy, yummy. Top quality.

The Fling “This year’s festival of assorted amusements was exactly that and we’re again overjoyed with its continuing success,” says Liam Rich, Cultural Events Manager of CBC. “Audience numbers were up on last year and there were more artists and performers on site than ever before. There’s far too much for everyone to see, but this means everyone has different stories to tell. The Fling currently displays the tip of the creative iceberg that exists locally and in future years we’ll be inviting even more people to get involved, perhaps organising their own space or revealing hidden talents for others to enjoy at the festival. Perhaps it will be bigger and last longer, although The Fling will always remain warm and intimate. many thanks to everyone who came, made stuff, dressed up and danced. We look forward to seeing you all again next time!”

Chelmsford Beer Festival 2011

Yet another resounding success - although the weather didn’t help - with cider sales amazingly up somewhere between 35% - 45%.

And can The Edge please go on record for thanking all of the CAMRA staff who lay on our fantastic annual piss-up, because they’re all volunteers, readers, ever last and lovely one of ’em. Some even have to give up over a week of their annual holiday entitlement from their real jobs, and if that isn’t showing devotion to the cause, this mag doesn’t know what does.

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David Sherman’s

BEVERAGE REPORT

The Editor assures me that, contrary to what I inferred from the conversation detailed in the June Edge, the public don’t actually want to read the same article every month. So, it’s back to the grindstone, when I was looking forward to graceful retirement….

All this controversy has got me thinking. Whatever the tedium and disenchantment engendered by reading the same content month after month, year after year, there are certain things we expect to have a similarity time after time. Take, for example, the Dickens novel to which I referred (also June Edge). Obviously no-one would want or expect Dickens to write out the same novel every few yearsw and submit it for publication in the same form with the same title; that would be crazy and pointless, wouldn’t it? Suppose, however, you had fond, schoolday memories of reading one of his tomes and decided to buy a new edition of it and rediscover its prolix delights. You wouldn’t, in those circumstances, expect to find chapters presented out of order, new characters inserted and the ending changed, simply because the editor had thought it would sell more copies, would you? You’d clearly want to re-read the book you remembered.

And so it is with beers. We all look forward to a certain degree of innovation and experimentation when experiencing a new beer we’ve not tried before, even though these days that often results in an excess of citric bitterness more suited to washing-up liquid than beer. But we don’t expect to find that someone has played around with a good beer we’ve returned to time after time, almost to the point of it being a new beer under an old name.

Oft-times, however, that’s exactly what happens, particularly when an established brewery with a certain reputation gets snapped up by one of its competitors. Is the buyer, often a large multi-national company, really interested in the flavour of the beer and the heritage surrounding its production? Or are they actually interested in the reputation that goes with the name? www.theedgemag.co.uk

It’s notable that many people, even those with some knowledge and experience of the world of beer, will ‘drink the name’ instead of tasting the beer, rather like people who went to see Bob Dylan in the nineties and ‘applauded the memory’, rather than booing the performances. The first brewery to benefit from this lack of objectivity amongst the ale-drinking public was Greene King. “I remember in the 70s,” one fifty-something drinker told me, “CAMRA members used to travel for miles to drink Greene King IPA.” He doesn’t remember that at all, of course, because there was no beer called Greene King IPA in the seventies; it’s a mid-80s re-badging of Greene King Bitter. “They won’t touch it now, but it hasn’t chnaged,” he continued.

It has changed. Last time I saw any form of ingredients listing for Greene King IPA, it included First Gold hops, a new variety developed in the late80s. Unless Dr. Who is one of GKs brewing consultants, it’s unlikely they were in the beer 35 years ago.

One has to wonder if the same fate, or worse, will befall Sharp’s beers.

Brewed in Cornwall by one of the most successful new micros, their beers have now been absorbed into the portfolio of mineral-water producers Molson Coors. Is this giant American piss-merchant really interested in keeping a small brewery churning out five or six beers in a remote corner of England? Or are they just after the flagship session bitter, Doom Bar? Doom Bar has developed, in recent years, a national reputation (which is, of course, what first brought it to the attention of the asset-stripping arm of the brewing industry), and rightly so. It’s a good, solid beer of reliable quality, striking the right balance between lightness of touch and fullness of flavour.

Or so it was. It could just be an unfortunate blip, cask beer being naturally variable and all, but the other weekend at a pub of generally impeccable quality, my pint of Molson Coors Sharp’s Doom Bar (a name which sticks in the throat for reasons other than length) was bland, featureless and dull.

Anyone remember Boddington’s?

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nicce nice

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let us m make make your garden a place plaace that hat you can relax in.....

LOCAL s

FOR A FREE QUOTE QUOTE CALL MARK K ON:

01245 249050 24905 50

m.rawlinson@nicenstripy.com linson@ @nicenstripy.com www www.nicenstripy.com .nicenstripy. com

TV presenters Neil Domoney and Bonnie Davies along with Chelmsford’s very own Chris Bonnet of Gardening Express.

[V[HS NHYKLU THPU[LUHUJL WH[PV HUK KYP]L^H` JSLHUPUN MLUJL^VYR N\[[LY JSLHYHUJL [V[HS NHY KLU THPU[LUHUJL WH[PV HUK KYP]]L^H` JSLHUPUN MLUJL^VYR N\[[LY JSLHHYHUJL

Gardening ON-LINE Have any of you readers received a copy of the chunky, glossy, highly polished (although can you ever really polish a turd?) So Essex magazine through your letterboxes recently, readers?

In it, on pages 70 and 71, to be precise (Jesus, it’d take The Edge a few issues to produce that many pages), there’s an article on a local Chelmsford bloke called Chris Bonnett who’s built up his online internet gardening plant & shrub supply service from a patch of unused earth in his parent’s back garden into a £1million turnover business over the past 10 years, and the fella’s still only 29.

Well, Chris got in touch with The Edge and invited me over for a brew and a chat. I say ‘a brew’, only I noticed he declined when offered one by a member of his staff, and when I tasted mine, bugger - it surely qualified as the worst cup of char anyone’s ever made me, bland and tasteless as it was.

In fact, I was actually preparing to sod the interview and jump straight back into my Edgemobile when...

“I’m going to be on the tele,” said Chris. “It’s a brand new C5 show called Garden ER, which also spells gardener.....get it?.”

“Oh eye, lad, eye,” I confirmed. “There’s no flies on me.”

MARQUEE FOR HIRE! Newly refurbished marquee now available for viewing for 2011-12 bookings.

MONDAY-THURSDAY NO CHARGE! Friday-Sunday from just £250

“It’s a weekly show aimed at putting the fun back into gardening, and I even managed to wangle a brand new water feature for my own garden out of them as well, which was handy. The show covers real garden makeovers, with real prices and the time involved. And there’s some great ideas on how to turn a garden shed from shabby to chic...”

Can be extended to accomodate 200 people.

Terms and conditions apply

“Every man loves his garden shed,” chimed I. “Someone even bought me a couple of books about the subject for my birthday, entitled ‘Shed Men’ and ‘Men & Sheds’.

They’re about....”

5

“Whoa! Edge bloke. This article is surely about me and not you yet again, isn’t it? So, as I was saying, Garden ER....yes, you’ll no doubt be interested to know that there’s a pimp my shed section, where rundown garden sheds are totally transformed. Then there’s a help and advice section as the team sorts out viewers embarrassing gardening gaffs. There’ll also be a bit of green-fingered gadget testing, plus a look behind the garden gate into some of Britain’s celebrities’ gardens. The whole aim of the shows is to demystify gardening and bring back the fun element that Ground Force used to tap into.”

Thursday 6th October

Michael Buble & George Michael £12.95 inc. 2-course dinner + coffee

Thursday 8th DEC.

Jacko’s BACK! price to be confirmed + 2-course dinner + coffee

“W’hey, Ground Force,” I repeated. “The Edge should feature that on its TV Gold section as I honestly used to love that programme, and not just because of Charlie Dimmock’s hooters either.”

“Quite.”

“OK, Chris, back to you then, sir. Now, The Edge gathers that you already send plants out to all corners of England, Scotland and Wales, so whatever next? Ever considered thinking about Europe?”

“To be honest with you,” says Chris, “I have been thinking about it. One step at a time though, so it’d be Germany first. In fact, your Edge might be able to help us recruit someone who could help us translate our website into German and handle all the customer calls the new site would hopefully produce?”

www.lodge-country-inn.co.uk Hayes Chase, Burnham Road (A132), Nr. Battlesbridge SS11 7QT. TEL: 01245 320060 Page 12

Any budding gardeners and/or bi-linguists out there should simply log on to

gardeningexpress.co.uk The Edge 077 646 797 44

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20% 20 % off off all all repairs repairs tthroughout hroughout AAugust ugust 22011 011

JJewellery ewellery - Clocks Clocks - W Watches atches

Looking Gooooooooood!

A lovely couple by the name of Liz & Eddie took over The Crown in Sandon in February and after a complete overhaul......damn, it is looking mighty fine, reports The Edge Editor.

You know when you step inside somewhere that’s just right, just so? Well, that’s the feeling I instantly got when I first set foot inside The Crown just the other week and unfortunately that is such a rare feeling because most folk who take over pubs honestly tend to balls things up.

But not Liz and Eddie. No way. Without a shadow of a doubt, they have put there mark on the place and made The Crown look, in The Edge’s humble opinion, exactly how it should have always looked, yet never has in all my infrequent visits to the place.

Take the sign outside, above the downstairs windows. Some people taking over might well have decided to ‘made do’ with the old sign as technically there was nothing really wrong with it. Other than the fact that it simply wasn’t good enough and The Edge 100% appreciates such wonderful sentiments.

“I even wanted uplighters,” says Liz, “but we weren’t allowed!”

The Edge is confident that new visitors to The Crown are now going to enjoy this pub as at last it strives to fully achieve its potential.

rm A wa ME CO L E W its awa you!

We’ll W e’ll b buy uy your your broken broken and a nd unwanted unwanted jjewellery eweller y Best prices while wait Be st p rices paid paid in in CASH CASH w hile yyou ou w ait for for Gold, Gold, Silver Silver and and Platinum Platinum 8-10 8 -10 NEW N E W LONDON LO N D O N ROAD R O A D - CHELMSFORD C H E L M S F O R D - ESSEX E S S E X - CM2 C M 2 0SW 0SW TT:: 0 01245 1245 2 267089 67089 - w www.asjewellers.co.uk w w.asjewellers.co.uk - E E:: iinfo@asjewellers.co.uk nfo@asjewellers.co.uk

Large courtyard garden to the rear Gatehouse function room available for private hire.

Three real ales + 2 guest ales always on tap Good food served every lunchtime and from Tuesday to Saturday evenings Daily Specials Board Cosy, intimate restaurant for relaxing dining

The Crown, The Green, Sandon, Chelmsford, CM2 7SH. Tel: 01245 477164 www.theedgemag.co.uk

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Spotted at The Fling

how beautiful is that?

And it is so annoying when some people literally refuse to get into focus!

What do you mean, “It’s rude to refer to a young damsel as that?”

The Edge is talking about the bloody pint of beer....beautiful, it looks. In fact, it’s making the mag feel quite parched just looking at it.

Tut, of course the true object of The Edge’s desire is the pretty young lady in question.....but what if she’s got a horrible personality, eh?

She probably hasn’t, but with looks like that, you possibly can have and still get away with it (The Edge strongly suspects). As in:“Hi Chloe” (wild guess).

“Go drop dead, dog breath.”

“But Chloe....I....I....”

“Save it and get out of my face.”

Like The Edge says, the young lassie in question is probably not called Chloe and, heaven forbid, doesn’t treat people like that.

BUT with her looks, if she had a mind to, she probably could....and folks would still keep coming back for more!

Spotted on the floor somewhere in Chelmsford...

...can somebody please explain?

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And cheers to you too, sir. My word, what a splendid way to dress.

Tut-tut, no belt tho’.

UNFORGIVABLE!

22/07/2011

15:59

Page 15

Craigg Hubert Hubb

WORLD CHAMPION HAIRDRESSING

CRAIG HUBERT WELCOMES L COME BACK JASON DYER, LCOME LEAH MAXTED AN AND INTRODUCES CHERYL ND INTR SIMPSON THE TEAM. SO N TO TH

Craig Hubert Hubberrtt is looking for a Senior Sennior Stylist to join j our creative team team WWW.CRAIGHUBERT.CO.UK GHUBER RT.CO.UK - 01245 260077 The Edge 01245 348256

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www.lancejames.co.uk

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the duck pub & dining newney green, chelmsford.

If you have been fruitlessly searching for a pub that is quintessentially English, then The Duck Pub & Dining is the place to visit locally.

Since taking over the reigns, we are constantly striving to make The Duck better, with our outside grounds currently taking presedence.

Nestled between the picturesque villages of Writtle and Roxwell, The Duck sits in the tiny hamlet of Newney Green and enjoys all of the peace and quiet of the English countryside as if from a bygone era.

However, future plans include a kitchen garden and a small holding in which we will keep pigs, chickens and an assortment of little animals that will further enhance your visit to our pub.

Now under new ownership, The Duck operates as a free house.

In order to wet your palate, there are always 4 regional real ales available on draught plus at least 2 on the back bar poured at gravity. Our first class selection of other drinks also includes a quality wine list and a huge selection of Malt Whiskies.

Birthday, anniversary and all celebrations are also naturally catered for, as are business luncheons, so please do contact us for further details.

We very much hope to welcome you to The Duck real soon!

3 Course Lunch £10 & 3 Course Dinner £15 ‘Sample Menu’ Soup of the Day Duck Liver Parfait Melon & Grape Cocktail Fisherman’s Catch Toad in the Hole Avocado & Brie Bake all served with potatoes and a medley of fresh veg Summer Fruits Bread & Butter Pudding served with Crème Fraiche Cheesecake of the Day Selection of ice-cream

On the food front, our menu reflects everything that is great about Great Britain and draws on the excellent range of food available locally, put together in the shape of simple, honest, hearty dishes.

The Duck welcomes one and all, whether it’s to enjoy a traditional three course meal in our wooden beamed dining room, or simply to join the cyclists and walkers with a country platter sat around our fireside.

Families are most welcome too, so why not make full use of our spacious garden, complete with children’s play area.

Beer, food, music, wine and entertainment!

Friday 26th August Corporate 2-course platter luncheon + FREE glass & pint 12-4pm + complimentary tasting & rustic local platter.

Saturday 27th August

Monday 29th August

Tuesday 30th August

Local food stalls for a bite to eat

Afternoon Tea Menu + Chelmsford Morris Men from 3pm

Drink us dry until it’s time to say goodbye!

HALF PRICE BEER to empty the barrels!

BABY GO BOOM

TICKETS £25 Kicking the weekend off 7pm supper with the legend that is Jimmy Greaves.

Fantastic band playing live from 8.30pm.

Wick’s Manor bangers & mash, Lathcoat’s apple pie & custard.

TICKETS £25

OPEN from 12-12 each day over the AUGUST BANK HOLIDAY WEEKEND period!

EMAIL US AT

theduckinn1@btconnect.com The Edge 01245 348256

Sunday 28th August Food & craft stalls 9-4pm

Evening Barn Dance with the Metric Foot Band from 8pm accompanied by a ploughman’s supper £15pp

Watch an evening play ‘BLIND DATE’

by Frank Marcus whilst enjoying a pie from 7pm £10 Ticket

REGULAR PUB OPENING TIMES Tuesday - Sunday 12noon - 11pm FOOD SERVED 12noon -9.30pm every day Closed Mondays (but OPEN on Bank Holiday Mondays!)

20 different ales, stouts, porters & ciders Newney Green, Writtle, Chelmsford, CM1 3SF.

TEL: 01245 421894 Page 17

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GOODNESS GRACIOUS

GIMP MASKS!

This, dear readers, is an ETM (Elevation Training Mask) which mimics the effects of HAT (High Altitude Training).....or you can simply slip it on whilst dashing to catch your train. For years, top athletes and oversleeping commuters alike have been forced to fork out huge sums from their money pots in order to put their bodies through their paces at high altitudes so that when they return to sea level, they are “better than they were before ....better, stronger, faster” - (The Million Dollar Man/Steve Austin, right?) and have loads more endurance. But with an Elevation Training Mask, anyone can get those exact same benefits wherever they train. Yes, even you, you w nker.

*

Strengthens the diaphragm Conditions the lungs by creating pulmonary resistance Increases surface area and elasticity in alveoli Increases lung capacity Increase anaerobic thresholds Decreases workout time (hurray) Includes three nose pieces for three levels of intensity: 1x 3x 9x restricted breathing Recommended for ages 16+ (no animals) “Never catch a train without one,” says $6m man Steve Austin.

Page 18

http://www.ko-sports.com/product/981386

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X-Walk

exercising in the great outdoors!

)XOO\ ÀWWHG EDWKURRPV VXSSOLHG DQG ÀWWHG IURP £3495.00 Bathrooms, Ensuites, Cloakrooms, Wetrooms, Shower rooms Building work, Heating, Plumbing, Electrics, Tiles, Flooring, Carpentry, Ideal Standard, NoCode, Aqualisa Hi-Qu, Bette, Kaldewei, 6KRZHUOX[ 0+6 UDGLDWRUV 0RQWURVH ÀWWHG IXUQLWXUH

Trying to keep fit these days is, for many people, proving to be more and more difficult. Apart from making time to exercise, many people find gyms monotonous and certain outdoor activities, for example running and cycling, too demanding or even downright dangerous.

A great new and original alternative is X-Walk. It involves guided hill walking followed by low resistant body toning moves and stretches whilst using telescopic walking poles. It is a low impact, aerobic exercise and is practised around the woods and commons of either Danbury or Little Baddow. Classes last for approximately 80 minutes and the routes, of which there are seven, take in some of the most scenic and challenging countryside in Essex.

To find out more go to www.xwalkdanbury.com or call Nick on 01245 226911.

V

ER M M U S IAL SPEC R OFFE

Nick Lyons of X-Walk comments: “X-Walk is particularly suitable for people who want to exercise in the countryside, but lack confidence with navigation and require a workout that is not too strenuous. “Providing you can walk continuously at a reasonable pace for at least 45 minutes, you should be able to both manage and enjoy X-Walk classes. To date, mothers and people who are retired have found XWalk particularly suitable, probably due to the friendly and very sociable atmosphere and an intensity of exercise that is not overly daunting, yet very beneficial and theraputic.�

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)XOO\ ÀWWHG NLWFKHQV VXSSOLHG DQG ÀWWHG IURP £3495.00 Building work, Granite, Lighting, Tiles, Flooring Appliances, Sinks and taps, Electrics, Wood worktops K Kitchens, Made to measure kitchens, Granite, Solid wood worktops, Franke sink and taps, Abode, Appliances

)XOO\ ÀWWHG DGDSWHG VKRZHU URRP IURP £3995.00 )XOO\ ÀWWHG ZDON LQ EDWKURRP IURP £5995.00 3OHDVH SKRQH IRU \RXU IUHH QR REOLJDWLRQ VXUYH\ DQG TXRWDWLRQ )ULHQGO\ SURIHVVLRQDO VHUYLFH /DUJH HQRXJK WR FRSH VPDOO HQRXJK WR FDUH Family run business

&KHOPVIRUG 6KRZURRP 122 Byron road &KHOPVIRUG Essex CM2 6HJ Tel : 01245 269778

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0DOGRQ 6KRZURRP 1A Edward Bright Close Maldon Bathrooms and Kitchens Essex CM9 5RU Tel : 01621 859966 ZZZ EDWKWXERQOLQH FR XN

All You Can Eat! AUGUST ONLY served personally to your table!

SPECIAL PRICE Sunday - Thursday:

Adult ÂŁ13.90 Child ÂŁ6.90* Friday - Saturday:

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10% service charge is applicable with this offer.

With a choice of 25 starters including soup, crispy duck and spare ribs, plus a selection of 75 main dishes including prawn, beef, chicken and much, much more!

136 MOULSHAM STREET, CHELMSFORD. TEL: 01245 290099 www.theedgemag.co.uk

Page 19

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YOUR letters

&

emails

15:40

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find the July five weekend days in the years 1960, 1966, 1977, 1983, 1988, 1994, 2005 and 2011. The next times are 2016 and 2022.

From this you can work out that they fall in a sequence of 6, 11, 6 and 5 years in every 28 years. If you doubt me, check out an old diary with dates for 2005!

I think you must have had the Beer Festival on your mind when you printed that story.

Cheers, Gifford Harrison.

What, doubt an undoubted Edge reading maths professor against that dimwit Lengthy Boy who supplied me with such ‘internet twaddle’ in the first place? Not likely, Gifford, you sex machine, you.

E.E.

Raleigh Choppers Oi, Edge bloke!

Rayleigh is a town in Essex. They do not make Choppers (July Edge) Raleigh do.

Tut! Andy Ballentyne You disgusting pedant, sir. E.E.

William & Harry

to theedge!

CHELMSFORD, CM2 6XD. shaun@theedgemag.co.uk Galactic Slag Alreet Captain, Enjoyed the mag this month (July).

I noticed your bit about how you hate the winter months and thought you might like to know that (even though they don’t seem it) Winter and Autumn are shorter than Spring and Summer (at 89 days to 92 days respectively).

This is due to the Earth’s elliptical orbit around the Sun, meaning at some points it is closer to the Sun than at others, so it moves round it quicker. What is also interesting is that during the Winter months, the Earth is actually at perihelion, which means that’s when it’s closest to the Sun. You’d think it would be warmer then, wouldn’t you?

I think it just goes to show that the very universe itself is out to ensure that thee and me are as miserable as it can possibly make us, the huge galactic slag.

Kingpin.

A ‘perihelion’ sounds like something you’d find in a Safari Park, old lad.

E.E.

Internet Rubbish Dear Edge Editor, I really cannot believe you fell for that internet rubbish about five Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays happening in July only once every 823 years. That story first did the rounds at the start of the year, but referred then to January.

In (almost) your lifetime, you will Page 20

Dear Edge, Here's something for you to get into. Those two Prince’s William and Harry are so different, I refuse to believe they are of the same father. William's nearly bald, like Charlie, while Harry has a full head of red hair.

Facial features don't match either.

Their mother was known to ‘put it about a bit’ so I reckon Harry is the son of that butler, James something-or-other.

Regards, E. Lucas.

Blimey! Talk about an off-thewall email. To be fair, surely it’s crystal clear that the brothers are not of the same dad, and furthermore, The Edge thinks that you are somewhat confusing Messrs. Paul Burrell and the dashing rogue that is James Hewitt, sir.

E.E.

things up by having a go at Islam, Judaism, Buddhism, etc.

I suggest you start with Islam, if you've any 'balls', and see what happens.

Islam has loads of peculiarities and you could have a field day going on about it as you've certainly the talent to do so.

Go on! It's time to put the crap that is religion firmly in its place, especially as it's declared war on western culture.

You say “all religion is crap”, so name ALL of them.

You only pick on those that do not fight back, you damn coward!

I bet you won't even publish this letter and I'm NOT even religious.

Yours disgusted, E. Lucas.

Nothing for 15 years and then two letters in the very same issue, eh? OK, look, it was actually The Grumpy Goose that said “all religion is crap” and you can read all about what The Goose has to say on page 23.

Personally speaking, I’m not a fan of religion, but then this whole episode was about something The Goose wrote to which ‘somebody of a religious persuasion’ took umbrage to and it all spiralled from there. But as editor, I’ve never once thought, ‘I know. Let’s do an article about what a crock of shit religion is’, or have any desire to start writing about Islam, Judaism and Buddhism, as you’ve suggested the mag does, simply because I honestly feel (a) I couldn’t justify the sheer amount of space such a subject would require, and (b) I doubt the majority of The Edge’s regular readers would be interested. Let’s face it, you’re never going to turn a non-believer into a believer, no matter how much they pedal it, and vice versa. So what’s the point in trying?

Perhaps religion’s really no more than some people needing fags and others needing alcohol.

It is an emotional crutch.

E.E.

Circle of Trust Sudbury Curry House Dear Edge, Stumbled across your July issue whilst waiting for my take-away in a curry house in Sudbury, Suffolk.

Best read in a long while.

I would happily write to all your advertisers to tell them this, but I think that would make me as sad and as stupid an arse as Mark Kreamer (mistaken in Letters section), so I haven’t bothered.

Regards, Gareth Evans.

Wow! How did a copy of The Edge work its way up to a curry house in Suffolk? Which one amongst you was it, readers, eh? Come on, cough up?

E.E.

Damn Coward Dear Edge, Well, you've had a go at Christianity, so it's time to balance

Hi Striker, I wanted to respond to your recent father-in-law article in last months Edge (July issues).

Where as your father-in-law is similar to Harry Enfield’s ‘Only Me’ character, mine’s slightly more ‘Jack Burns’ of The Fockers fame.

No, I'm not saying he’s ex-CIA or Mi5, even though that might explain the ‘listening device’ in his ear (he admits to being a bit mutton in the one lug-hole, but I've never been so sure).

I'm also not even saying it's because he’s oh so often given me the "I'm watching you, Focker" treatment either (I'm sure he said focker???). No, it's the simple fact that, like Ben Stiller’s character in the Focker trilogy, I'm never going to be completely good enough for his ‘little girl’, or ever be included in his damned circle of trust.

OK, OK, I accept it might have something to do with the fact that 17 years ago, there was an incident of him walking into his daughter’s bedroom, only to find a 5'10” skinny (yes, that's right, I did weigh less than 11 stone once, you know) only ever so slightly ginger haired lad attempting to do ‘rude things’ with his angel.

Or maybe it's the fact that I’ve already failed 10 times whilst trying to pass my driving test (including once where I got into completely the wrong car) and his beloved daughter has to drive us everywhere ("I just don't get why that tosser can't pass a simple thing like his driving test?")

On the other hand, it could also be the fact that I'm totally crap at D.I.Y., where as the father-in-law is naturally a legend in all trades and has to come round to ours and do absolutely everything (from laying the wooden floor to fixing the water tank in the loft....I hate heights), together with the fact that I don't have a ‘real man’s job’ as I work in fashion, as opposed to doing some honest work, such as any form of labouring.

Or maybe it’s simply confessing, when drunk (more than once), that the mother-in-law is definitely worth a shag!

And you always know that you’re never going to be the complete apple of anyone's eye when, during dinner parties (or at your very own wedding reception), your father-inlaw says, “I always hoped and prayed that one day my girl would meet a man good enough for her...and to this day, I'm still hoping and praying." (I think he was joking. I'm sure I saw him smile when he said it. Then again, it might have been a bit of windy pops from the volovants.)

There have also been far too many occasions to mention when I've been pushed aside because he can ‘do it’ far better than ever I could, from cooking on the BBQ to simply changing a toilet roll.

So will I ever be good enough for his little girl? Doubtful. Very doubtful indeed.

All I know is that my own little angel is already 7 this year and I rub my hands with glee in anticipation of becoming a 'Jack Burns' type character one day myself and properly putting some unsuspecting tosser through the ringer, rather than writhing in the 'Gaylord Focker' position I currently occupy.

And hey, that’s because I’ve learnt from the very best.

Jan Attrell.

Love it, Jan, just love it.

E.E. P.S. Plus you’ve a girl’s name!

The Edge 01245 348256

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LOOK HOW EXPERTLY YOUR EDITOR CUT OFF ‘THE LENGTH’

THERE’S ONLY ONE MICKEY DUNBAR

“One Mickey Dunbar.....there’s only one Mickey Dunbar.....one Mickey Dunnnnnbar.....there’s only one Mick-ey Dun-bar!”

That’s what they used to sing whenever former inside-forward Mickey Dunbar used to pop one of his balls out.....eh? Sorry.....slipped a ball inside to his centre-forward is what The Edge meant to say.

Now some would say that Mickey used to be Mick Bolingbroke’s right hand man, whereas these days he’s known as ‘the man behind the glasses’.

“It’s true,” says Mick, who sounds like a cross between former Blackpool, Everton and Arsenal midfielder Alan Ball and a piece of sandpaper. “Even when I go into my local butchers for a string of sausages for my Sunday breakfast, instead of just saying, ‘Hi Mick, how’re you doing?’, my butcher will say, ‘Backs to the wall please, ladies and gentlemen, here comes the man behind the glasses.’ It really can be quite embarrassing when there’s a shop full of people.”

Meanwhile, Mrs Dunbar says, “He got them free....they came with the nose.”

I’M NOT FOLLOWING YOU, MATE???

Brilliant snapshot! There’s always one that doesn’t get the joke, isn’t there?

Whilst Kevin ‘beef jerky’ Swinney, ‘Dapper Rob’ Moules-Mariniere and Mod-Boy Yarnell all seemingly get the ‘egg joke’ that your editor’s just cracked, ‘Big Shaun’ is left pondering for a good few weeks until he eventually cracks on.

I dunno tho’.....talk about being plucked from obscurity. But now look at ’em, eh? That’s right, these ’ere Scooter Boys are now frickin’ famous.

Take Swinney, for example. He’s only been approached to turn on Chelmsford Town Centre’s Christmas tree lights this year, hasn’t he?

“H’hey, lovely job,” says Swinney. “Nice little speech, a few glasses of wine, perhaps a salmon and cucumber sandwich with the crust cut off and it’s all money in the bank, this ’ere celebrity lark, innit?”

Yes, but Swinney, me old mate, what about The Edge’s commission....as you’re new found frickin’ agent???

? ??

The Edge Crew beat the crowds to vacate the 2011 Chelmsford Beer Festival. “We won’t get done for drink driving up here!” shouted The Kingmeister, who cannot even drive, let alone inflate a hot air balloon (fully all liveried up design based on Kingpin’s mum’s undercrackers).

The Three Elms 1st EVER Beer & Cider Festival Essex’s premier ‘cider provider’!

19th-21st of August 2011 Featuring ‘live band’ TRASHED on Saturday night Join us for REAL ALES,REAL CIDERS, FOOD & FUN!

“Run that by me once more???” says ‘Big Shaun’. www.theedgemag.co.uk

Chignal St. James, Chelmsford, CM1 4TZ. Tel: 01245 443151 www.the-three-elms.com Page 21

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ONLY JOKING! Cameron: Take Note

The Irish have solved their own financial problems. They’ve imported 50 million tonnes of sand from the Arabs and are now going to start drilling for oil.

Wind the Baby Went round to a friend’s house today. His wife was sat there with their newborn baby. She asked if I'd like to wind it. I thought that was a bit harsh, so I gave it a dead leg instead.

Paddy’s Goldfish Paddy goes to see the vet with his goldfish.

"I think it's got epilepsy," he tells the vet.

Vet takes a look and says, "It seems calm enough to me."

Paddy says, "Wait ’til you see what it does when I take it out of the bowl."

Not Happy Statistically speaking, 6 out of every 7 dwarfs are not happy.

No Problem A mate of mine recently admitted to being addicted to brake fluid, but when I quizzed him about it, he reckoned it wasn’t a problem as he could stop at any time.

Sad Tale Three Irishmen are sitting in the pub’s window seat, watching the front door of the brothel over the road.

The local Methodist pastor appears and quickly scurries inside.

"Would you look at that!" says the first Irishman.

"Didn't I always say what a bunch of hypocrites they were?"

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They carry on drinking, only shortly afterwards, a Rabbi turns up, furtively knocks and is quickly ushered inside.

"Another one!” cries the second Irishman.”Tut. Trying to fool us all with their pious preaching and stupid hats and wotnot."

After a short while of continued drinking and angered condemnation of both the Vicar and the Rabbi, they suddenly see their own Catholic priest knocking on the door opposite the pub.

“Ah, now dat's sad," says the third Irishman.

"One of the girls clearly must have died."

Balance I was at a cashpoint yesterday when a little short-sighted old lady asked me if I could check her balance. Not being one to disappoint, I effortlessly pushed her over.

Skint Bloke walks into a pub and asks for a pint of anything except VB. Barman asks, "What's wrong with VB?" Bloke says, "I had 12 pints of VB last night and when I came round, I was fookin’ skint."

Barman says, "Twelve pints of anything pretty much costs about the same these days."

Bloke replies, "Skint's my dog."

disgusted by anything involving the animal body.

As an example....” he said, before pulling back the sheet, sticking a finger up the dead cow's arse and then sucking it.

Well, his students were shocked at that.

“Go ahead, try it for yourselves,” the Professor instructed them.

After freaking out for a bit, the students eventually took it in turns to stick their fingers up the dead cow’s arse before sucking them.

When everyone had finished, the Professor looked at them and said, “And the second most important quality is observation. I don’t know whether you noticed, but I stuck my middle finger up that cow’s backside, yet sucked on my index finger. Learn to pay attention.”

New Job Life's tough, and it's even tougher if you're stupid. I start a new job in Seoul next week.

I figured it would be a good Korea move.

Pregnant Paddy shouts frantically down the ’phone, "My wife’s pregnant and her contractions are only two minutes apart."

The nurse replies, "Is this her first child?"

Paddy hollers, "No. This is her husband!"

Racism

2012 Olympics

Everyone seems to be in such a hurry to play the racism card these days.

Take this particular instance. A customer asks a store manager in what aisle could he find some Irish sausages?

Retail chappy asks him, “Are you Irish, sir?”

Well, the fella, clearly offended, confirms that yes, he is Irish, but counters saying, “Supposing I’d asked you for some Italian sausages. Would you have asked me if I was Italian?

“Or if I had asked you for German Bratwurst.

Would you asked me if I was German?

“Or if I‘d wanted some kosher hot dogs, would you have assumed I was Jewish?

“Or perhaps Mexican, if I’d asked you for some Taco’s?”

Store manager scratches his head and replies, “To be truthful, sir, no, I probably wouldn't."

Customer claps his hands together and says, “There you are then. So why did you immediately presume me Irish, just because I happened to ask you for some Irish sausages?”

Store manager says, "Because this is Halfords."

It's 2012 and it's the Olympics in London.

A Scotsman, an Englishman and an Irishman want to get in, but haven't got any tickets.

So the Scotsman picks up a manhole cover, tucks it under his arm, and walks up to the gate.

"McTavish, Scotland, discus." he announces, and walks straight in.

So the Englishman, impressed at the Scotsman’s ingenuity, picks up a length of scaffold, slings it over his shoulder, walks up to the gate and announces, “Waddington-Smythe, England, pole-vault," and in he walks.

Well, the Irishman is majorly impressed and not to be outdone looks around and picks up a roll of barbed wire and tucks it under his arm.

"O'Malley, Ireland....." he proudly announces at the gate. "Fencing."

Spider My son's been asking me for a pet spider for his birthday, so I went to the local pet shop and was shocked, saddened and dismayed to discover they were selling for £70.00 and upwards.

‘Bollocks to that,’ I thought. ‘I’m bound to be able to get him one cheaper on the web.’

Drunk as a Skunk Paddy is driving home, drunk as a skunk.

Suddenly, he has to swerve to avoid a tree.

Then another. And then another.

Cop car eventually pulls him over as he’s veering about all over the road.

Paddy tells the cop about all the trees in the road.

Cop says, "For God’s sake, Paddy, that's your air freshener swingin' about."

New Aftershave I tried some new aftershave that smells like breadcrumbs. The birds absolutely love it.

Do Not Bend Paddy spies a letter lying on his doormat. It says on the envelope: ‘DO NOT BEND’.

So Paddy spends the next two hours trying to figure out how to pick the damn thing up.

Freshers Freshers at the Edinburgh Veterinary School were receiving their first anatomy class with a dead cow.

They all gathered around the surgery table where the carcass was covered with a white sheet.

Then the professor strode in and started the class by telling them, “In Veterinary Medicine, it is necessary to possess two important qualities as a Doctor. The first is that you need not be

Sex Wife says to her husband, "You only ever want sex when you're drunk.”

Husband replies, "Hey, that's not fair and that’s not true. (Thinks for a moment.) Sometimes I want a kebab."

Memory Stick Bought the wife a Memory Stick.

It's great. She hasn't forgotten my beer, dinner or sex once since the first beating.

Q&A Q. What's the difference between a boy and a girl in Liverpool?

A. Girls have a higher sperm count.

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

The Edge 178:The Edge 172.qxd

The Grumpy Goose!

The Catholic Church There has been speculation that, as a result of my article about the men in white dressing gowns, The Edge Editor had suspended me, or I had chosen to ‘lay low’. Nonsense. I'm still here, and, to prove it, I'm writing this column.

In reply to a letter from clearly a small boy (see Letters Page): In my original article entitled ‘Ridiculous’ (May Edge), I used the phrase “all religions are equally bogus”; note the word ‘all’ - it means inclusive, not exclusive.

Let me make it plain: THERE IS NO GOD. Whichever religion you choose, you are deluding yourselves. It’s just us. We are responsible for all of the good and all of the evil in the world.

I have no problem with people who believe in a god; go ahead, delude yourselves, deceive your children.

However, I do have a problem with the Catholic Church.

Why, I hear you ask? (But only the Catholics are asking - everyone else knows.)

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The Catholic Church is the main religion in Europe and affects our daily lives. It preaches to Catholics and non Catholics alike. Catholics are entitled to their beliefs, as are Muslims.

However, Islam does not affect our daily lives. Muslims do not abuse children in care homes, their leaders do not live in a golden palace full of treasure, they are not hypocrites. In fact, I'm not sure any other religion is as hypocritical as the Catholic Church.

As I write this, I'm watching the BBC news at 6; yet another incident of abuse and cover-up by the Catholic Church. Father John McGee, an adviser to the pope, has been found to have covered up incidents of child abuse by Catholic priests; after the pope promised it would not happen again. BUT STILL IT GOES ON. As Catholics, you know all these news reports are true. ‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark’ if I may quote Shakespeare.

Aren't you ashamed of your church?

You should be. The Catholic Church is truly morally bankrupt, but you'll defend it, won't you, because you are morally bankrupt as well. So for once, do the right thing and condemn the systematic abuse perpetrated within your religion.

But wait, I think I have a solution to the problem.

I propose you live your lives by a different book. You've used the bible for 2000 years; it’s time for a change. I suggest you use a book(s) that is more widely read than the bible; something more relevant - Harry Potter. It’s got a man with long hair and a beard, there are spirits and

demons and spells and magic (miracles even).

Lord Hanningfield He’s an unashamed arrogant common thief; it’s official.

He stole from the hard working and over burdened tax payers of Chelmsford.

His supporters claim that his imprisonment is a travesty; he did a great deal for the county, he spoke very highly of it. Is that it? He spoke? What else did he do for the county? Did he collect refuse? Did he drive a bus? Did he work in a hospital?

No, but he stole from the tax payers who did.

The people who defend him are equally corrupt and morally bankrupt.

At least his incarceration is not all bad news for him; I believe his ‘preference’ is quite prevalent in prison.

Debenhams I walked through Debenhams the other day. As I passed the cosmetics counters, I wondered how the female staff managed to get their skin to look so orange and waxy?

Race for Life A (female) friend entered Race for Life; her boyfriend wanted to participate too.

However, he was rejected, on the grounds that he is not female.

What an idiot. Doesn't he know only women get cancer?

Men don't get it, do they? They can't do, or Race for Life would include men. The women who organise this event aren't stupid, or selfish, are they? So it’s time us men admitted

that we only get ‘man cancer’; you know, a bit like ‘man flu’, not real.

Only women get real flu and real cancer. So come on, all you men, get out of that hospice bed, there’s nothing wrong with you; stop malingering.

Those beds are needed for women.

Government Advice Employ British workers over foreigners; it’s the only way to ensure full employment. ‘They come over here (even though they are entitled to do so) and take our jobs.’ We British want our traditional jobs back: cleaning cars and picking fruit & veg etc.

Even I, The Grumpy Goose, have first-hand experience of this thorny employment issue.

On three occasions last year, as part of my ‘real job’, I had to interview job applicants. I advertised the vacancies through Chelmsford Job Centre.

On all three occasions, out of approximately 30 applicants, only 7 arrived.

Of those 7, four were more than 30 minutes late. I was greeted with the likes of: “Alright, mate. I'm ’ere about the job,” by people in track suits and hoodies; one applicant even kept his earphones in and listened to his i-Pod for the duration of the interview (true).

Contrast this with a man from the Czech Republic, wearing black shoes, black trousers, a white shirt and a tie; he greeted me with, “Good morning, sir. I'm here about the job interview.”

Sadly, most (not all) of the British apes that frequent the Job Centre couldn't get a job picking up dog shit.

Ahem, readers. These are the exclusive views of the GG and not necessarily blah, blah, blah...

Fishy Goings On

The Edge Editor is a regular visitor to Blissful Soul in order to unwind from the stresses and strains of his complicated life in their Floatation Tank

Blissful Soul, run by Tony and Danielle Smith in Moulsham Street, has proved so successful in such a short space of time that they are about to open two further fishy outlets in Maldon and Harlow.

“We combine 8 individual fish pedicure spas with massage and floatation therapy,” says Danni, “so we’re more than just a one stop shop.

“Our fish are called Garra Rufa, originally from Turkey,” chips in Tony, “and to be honest, we haven’t seen any as big anywhere else. It’s an incredible feeling having them nibble away at the dead skin cells on your feet, but they’re hardly piranhas, so there’s really no need to worry!”

The price is just £10 for 15 minutes (£5 for children) followed by a moisturising foot rub. Or alternatively £20 if you wish to follow up your treatment with nail filing, cuticle work and a toenail polish.

Meanwhile, floatation therapy is perhaps the most unusual way to destress and allows you to float your cares away in an i-sopod tank in water that includes 800lb of Epsom Salts.

Prices start at just £20 for 40 minutes, or £25 for 1 hour.

Gift vouchers available 20% discount for students and OAP’s (proof required) Private parties catered for - prices upon application Check website for all package prices 177 Moulsham Street, Chelmsford.

Telephone 01245 690167.

2 people for the price of 1 @ Blissful Soul!

Definitely not The Edge Editor’s feet, readers....but I was brave enough (just) to have my toes nibbled and it genuinely is a feeling like no other www.theedgemag.co.uk

Simply bring this EDGE voucher along and TWO people can experience a FISH PEDICURE or float in our FLOATATION TANK (seperately or together) for the price of ONE* at Blissful Soul on any day excluding Saturdays (might be a good idea to book in advance)! *Terms and conditions apply

177 Moulsham Street, Chelmsford. Telephone 01245 690167 Page 23

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Dream Homes

I think this house is in Ilfracombe, North Devon....although I’m not completely certain as it’s a while since I took the shot.....but it’s definitely a marmite house, wouldn’t you say?

Personally speaking, The Edge loves it as it’s got character coming out of its, er, funnel (oh yeah, and it overlooks the sea too, for good measure), but I can well imagine some of you going, “Ooh noooo.”

I reckon it’d probably look a little out of place in Chelmsford, where as in Maldon it’d go down a treat.

The Edge has recently been glued to its TV set for that Restoration Home series, although it’s none too

keen on its choice of presenter and also thinks it spends more time than necessary on the history of the projects rather than the actual restoration work itself that the programme’s title would seem to suggest it should. Thing is, why I even bother to put myself through it each week I’ll never know, because I always end up sick with envy.

Kevin McCloud and Grand Designs is still by far The Edge’s favourite and the sooner that reappears onto our screens, the better.

Change of subject: those six new semi-detached houses by Moody Homes on Victoria Road in Writtle.

Are they overpriced, or what???

BUY-TO-LET BACK ON TRACK

Jo Williams - Partner

The Estate Agent that works for

YOU!

Landlords are increasingly optimistic about the prospects for the buy-to-let market.

According to a recent survey by LSL, the UK’s second largest estate agency group, some 49% of landlords think that now is the right time to invest in more property (only To quote the world’s greatest investor, Warren Buffet (worth £25 billion), “Always buy at the point of greatest pessimism.”

Well, it seems that we have already passed that point.

In the past year, some 185,600 fewer firsttime buyers than usual entered the sales market, prompting an increase in rental demand. Indeed, over half the landlords polled have seen a rise in tenant demand in the last three months alone.

David Newnes, Divisional MD for LSL said: “Optimism among landlords is not only buoyant, but increasing. Soaring rents and climbing demand from frustrated first-time buyers are not only making buy-to-let an attractive proposition for new property investors, but are encouraging existing landlords to grow their holdings before property prices increase once more.”

Rents now equal their all-time high of £692

per month.

However, one of the frustrations is that despite 68% of landlords expecting rental demand to grow during the next 12 months, 54% are finding mortgage finance harder to source than a year ago.

Interestingly, of those landlords who have bought in the past year, 48% were cash purchasers.

Landlords with mortgage finance typically have an average rental ‘profit’ of £3,288 per year after mortgage repayments - more than enough to absorb even the most bullish forecast for interest rates. Many landlords are now investing this surplus into extending their portfolios.

So with the Bank Base Rate once again remaining at it’s all time low of 0.5% (and forecast to remaining low for the foreseeable future), landlords can expect to see rents rise without a corresponding increase in mortgage payments.

So, what would Warren do?

Can’t you guess!

For further advice or information on buy to let mortgages, please contact me, Jo Williams, on the number below.

www.thehomepartnership.co.uk 11 Duke Street, Chelmsford CM1 1HL Telephone: 01245 250222 Page 24

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TV TESTGUIDE CARD TV GOLD GOLD -- THE ROUGH

‘GOLD! Always believe in your soul, you’ve got the power to know, you’re indestructible....’

And this month, readers, it’s the turn of the Rough Guide series of holiday programmes on C5 hosted

by Julia Bradbury and Toby Amies that is practically The Edge’s favourite spot of TV of all time.

Why? Because The Edge loves its holidays and the Rough Guide gets to the meat and two veg of the destinations it covers with no mucking about. It was always like ‘BAM! This is what you want to be doing/seeing...’

They never used to beat about the bush and if a certain holiday/destination didn’t come up to scratch, they’d say so. Which is great. That’s what The Edge is after. No point shilly-shallying around, is there?

What’s more, The Edge loved it’s presenters, Julia Bradbury (particularly Julia Bradbury and her quite frankly totally amazing bod) and ‘the other bloke’?

Ah yes, Toby Amies (only joking, Toby, lad).

Brummy boy Amies was just as important as Ernie Wise to Bradbury’s Eric Morcombe and was very much his own man (this mag has particular fond memories of him in raptures over Cuba, somewhere The Edge has never been). I also used to love seeing him belting about the back streets of some far off foreign climes on a scooter and think, ‘What a bloody amazing job to have, the lucky bastard’.

Meanwhile, Bradbury was forever getting her kit off and The Edge really can’t fault her for that, the sex kitten.

But what this mag truly cannot understand is why Rough Guide is no longer on our screens, particularly as the shows proved to be so very successful?

OK, so Bradbury’s currently up the duff, which hurt when I found out, I can tell you. Through a glossy magazine rather than a ’phone call too, I might add, which is never nice.

I’ve even emailed Julia’s PA, Gina Fox, so we’ll see whether any information transpires about a new series. So watch this space...

DOORS - DOORS - DOORS ‘Cheerful Bob’ & Bros. inc. ‘Serious Chris’ & ‘Forgetful Dave’ - ‘all Alive & Fitting!”

Family Business Est. 1979 Internal/External, Hardwood/Softwood, Stairs & Spindles a speciality.

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Sounds too good to be true, bring this advertisement into the showroom now and take advantage of this special opportunity to treat yourself.

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shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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From Russia with Love I’ve always had a soft spot for mother Russia. Throughout the ages the Russian people have been put through some of the most horrifying forms of hardship imaginable, but like an AK-47 toting energy bunny fuelled by vodka and sheer bloody mindedness, they just keep on going.

History for the Russians was basically like a millennia long episode of ‘Endurance’, with history metaphorically burning their nipples with a magnifying glass and randomly kicking them in the bollocks.

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ME & MY adamantium skeleton

quick wank, although if reports are to be believed, the monkey gangs of Delhi have better taste in music and you can hold a decent conversation with them. In fact, the once deputy mayor of Delhi actually died from a monkey attack, falling off his balcony while trying to fight off a shrieking horde of the things.

And then they sang protest songs against ‘The Man’.

The Kingmeister reports “Thanks a bunch, history!”

One thing this proves is that you just don’t mess with the Russians, and if you don’t believe me, go and ask Napoleon and Hitler about their ‘Russian Front’ ideas, or the Russian guy that cut his own head off with a chainsaw during a drinking game to prove that he was the hardest bloke there.

Granted, he wasn’t around to celebrate his victory, but you can’t deny he definitely put that particular argument to bed.

It’s not even just the people in Russia that aren’t to be screwed with. Russian dogs are also in the top 10 of ‘Eastern Bloc things the Kingpin doesn’t want to mess with’ (just behind female shot putters at number 7). Moscow has a big problem with large packs of stray dogs and statistically you’re actually more likely to get attacked by a dog than mugged over there.

These canine gangsters mainly live in the subway systems and have learned how to navigate through the city using the trains. I know people that still can’t figure out what train they have to take to get from Liverpool Street to Kings Cross, yet these are stray dogs we’re talking about here!

Apparently, it’s not that uncommon for someone to be late and running for the train when they’re set upon by an entire pack of hounds, which is at the same time both horrifying and completely awesome.

Being the pragmatists that the Russians are, they’ve adapted to this four-legged threat by carrying sausages with them to distract the dogs if they’re attacked. No, I’m not joking either.

“Hand over the pork and apple and nobody gets hurt.”

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Taking stuff like this into account, it’s not surprising that it was the Russians who came up with what is possibly the best idea for a game show known to human kind. The 90’s saw the dissolution of the once vast Russian empire and a whole host of woes came with this transition, from the meltdown of the economy to the meteoric rise of organised crime. As well as yet another shit and broken glass sandwich for the beleaguered Russian populace to chew on, the 90’s also gave them ‘The Intercept’.

Like all certifiable works of genius, ‘The Intercept’ was based on a simple enough premise. A man would be approached in the street by the film crew and offered a brand new car. All he had to do was drive it away and keep hold of it for the next 35 minutes. Easy, right?

What they didn’t mention was that the car had been fitted with transmitters to enable it to be easily tracked and that they’d just reported the car as stolen, so the contestant would in fact be spending the next 35 minutes in a high speed chase with the police through the streets of Moscow.

Oh, and when the police caught them (which they almost invariably did), they could, and would, drag the contestant out of the car and give them a richly deserved roadside beating. Like I said: genius.

Not surprisingly, ‘The Intercept’ was hugely popular and it’s not hard to see why. Who wouldn’t want to watch it every week?

N.B. If you’re a bloke and you answered “no” to that question, I would suggest removing your testicles from your girlfriend’s purse and trying them on for size again.

What’s also not surprising is that it’s only the Russians who had the brass balls to come up with a show. such as this. Not even Japan, the land of school girls panties in vending machines and signs on the train reminding men that it’s not actually OK to grope women on their daily commute, would come up with something like ‘The Intercept’.

In another stroke of genius, it seems the brains behind this game show were the Russian police themselves, probably thinking it a good bit of propaganda as well as a much needed image boost.

Just think about that for a second and imagine the uproar if the Met came up with that idea, tearing through the crowded

“What’s wrong with our image comrade?” streets of London for a game show and then giving the ‘lucky’ contestant a jolly good hiding for the cameras. Then again, with all the budget cuts to public services, perhaps it’s time we all started thinking outside the box to generate extra revenue?

Transplant patients could go on a ‘Deal or No Deal’ type show to see if they can pick the correct box with a kidney in it. Or perhaps one day, if we’re very, very lucky, we’ll actually get a proper ‘Running Man’ game show.

Monkey Magic By now, I think most of you know that I have an ongoing love affair with our simian cousins, so I’m always keeping an eye on what my favourite species are getting up to.

And now that we’re getting no more ‘Monkey News’ from Karl Pilkington, I figure someone has to pick up the slack.

It’s a sad state of affairs, but instances of human beings coming into conflict with the animal kingdom are lamentably common.

Name a species that you couldn’t possibly believe we’d find fault with and I can find you at least one instance where that animal had the verb ‘menace’ attached to it.

Monkeys are old hands at this now and, to be honest, probably sound better with ‘menace’ after their names anyway.

We like to think of them as little fellas in funny clothes, perhaps dressed in brown overalls pushing a piano upstairs before having a well earned cuppa, or maybe doing that adorable thing where they tear your wing mirrors off and shit on your windscreen in a safari park. In Delhi and Kenya however, they’re definitely not so cute.

Delhi is prey to gangs of monkeys that act much like our own native grown Chavs by regularly breaking into people’s houses or just loitering on street corners having a

Exacerbating the problem is the fact that monkeys are revered creatures in large parts of India, so officials in Delhi can’t solve their monkey crisis by the simple expedient of just shooting them, so in a move of stunning brilliance (and stupidity) they have decided to fight fire with fire.

Enter the Langur, a small ape that’s bigger than the troublesome monkeys and is being introduced to guard buildings and frighten the little buggers away. Now there is a clearly appreciable logic to this, but it’s sadly lacking in common sense. Monkey experts agree that the most likely outcome is of the apes and monkeys finding a way to live in harmony with each other, while the likelihood of homo sapiens living in harmony with pretty much anything is like placing a bet on a 3-legged donkey to win the Grand National.

Personally speaking, I’m hoping that they don’t realise this when Plan-A fails and they just keep trying it with bigger and bigger apes until the problem is resolved. I’ll put my money on that being when the apes actually outnumber the humans and just start running the place.

Meanwhile, in Kenya, our monkey brethren are making a nuisance of themselves in the village of Nachu by regularly stealing crops.

This in itself isn’t that uncommon, but this particular tribe of monkeys are now in the crosshairs for sexually harassing the village women. The monkeys have learned that the men of the tribe are much more likely to attack them, and so they avoid the farms when the men are around.

Not only do they have no fear of the women though, but they openly mock their attempts to stop their vegetable based larceny and they’ve also developed a tendency to mock the women by gesturing at their little monkey cocks before running off with the yams.

The intrepid women of Nachu tried to combat this by going to the fields dressed as men, only to find that the monkeys weren’t fooled and simply pointed at their breasts before getting back to thieving.

“Are those things real?!”

At the time of writing, I can’t seem to find if the villagers of Nachu have come up with a solution to their randy monkey woes, but hopefully they’re sending someone to Delhi for some tips.

www.theedgemag.co.uk

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g

A better way to divorce?

If you are facing a breakdown of your relationship, the things that you may dread the most are how you can sort out the finances; the house; the children. The thought of arguing and going to court is both frightening and expensive. There is, however, another way.

Collaborative Family Law is a process where you and your spouse have your own solicitor, but instead of being adversarial, you work together to find the right solutions to your problems. You agree that you will not resort to court proceedings and by having a series of meetings you can reach agreement on all of the things that matter to you. These can be things that the court can not help you with because of the way the traditional court system operates.

Family Law at

THB Solicitors 73 Springfield Road, Chelmsford, Essex, CM2 6JG Offices also at Freeport Office Village, Braintree and Ipswich

T. 01245 349696

thblegal.com

You set the pace of the process, you set the agenda, and you make the decisions. Your lives are not left in the hands of the courts or the judges.

At a time when the court system is becoming even more pressured due to cut backs, the collaborative process can offer a far quicker resolution.

Many people are finding the collaborative process a better way to divorce and come away feeling satisfied that they have aired their views and reached an agreement that will work. Children have especially benefited from their parents dealing with their divorce in a collaborative way as they see their parents working together rather than arguing about them.

Collaborative Family lawyers are trained to deal with separation in the collaborative way and are experienced family lawyers committed to providing a professional service to their clients. Most collaborative lawyers will offer a free chat about collaborative law to see if it would suit you.

For more information, contact Teresa Foss on 01245 349696, email: tfoss@thblegal.com or visit www.thblegal.com.

T H B

line online on

S O L I C I T O R S

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The Edge 01245 348256

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by Steve Ward Wimblebury As this edition of the Edge hits the newstands it will be early August and the damp and cold days that constituted June this year will be a far distant memory. Yeah, but. Two things happen every year in June, and although it was a couple of months ago, the chronology doesn’t really matter to the point to be made here.

Mid-June sees the annual Festival of Middle England. No, not the church fete, or the family fun day (an oxymoron if there ever was one) but that gathering of the white and genteel class that descends on London SW19 every year. Or, if they can’t get there in person, they at least attend in spirit via the wonders of modern technology. Or in this case, the BBC, which isn’t necessarily the same thing. Yes, we’re talking about Wimbledon.

This year, and with a level of wit that was as exceptional as it was unexpected, certain members of the crowd started shouting “C’mon Tim” at Andy Murray. What these people were doing, and you have to assume it’s unknowingly, is backing the argument made above that Wimblebore is a completely English middle classes thing.

Murray is Scottish, and worse, a bit of a raggamuffin. He likes to win things and is prepared to be nasty to do it, if that’s what it takes. Sadly for him, he plays in an era where there are not one or two, but three exceptional players that make it very difficult for him to excel. But that’s not the point here. No, the point is that the crowd don’t want to have to cheer for a hairy rough boy; they want a nice, clean cut, mild mannered Tim Nice But Dim that represents them and all they aspire to. The sort of man they would want their daughters to marry.

The annual Lawn Tennis Championships is one of the so called crown jewels of televised sport that, by law, Rupert Murdoch can’t buy up. Which is a huge shame, because the cosy BBC/Wimbledon relationship needs a damn good shake up. Years ago, the BBC was arrogant enough to assume it was the natural home for televised test cricket - until all of a sudden it lost the rights. Then Sky big bad Sky - took over and all of a

sudden we’re watching a totally different game. Hawkeye, hotspot, dozens of cameras, HD, super slomo. Do you really think we’d have all those innovations if it were left to the BBC? Of course not. We’d have old buffers in blazers. Or maybe, in what they mistakenly thought would be a modernising drive, old buffers in jumpers and slacks.

The BBC’s coverage of the tennis is fronted by Sue Barker. Sue Barker, for chrissake. The most annoying public school jolly hockey-sticks head girl on the planet. It says it all about the BBC’s image of itself that it would allow such a total ninny anywhere near a camera.

However, at exactly the same time, the complete antidote to Wimbledon also happens to be taking place. In fact, antidote is what it should be, but it too has succumbed to the white middle classes and is now exclusively their preserve. This time we’re talking about what the Daily Mash brilliantly described as “a muddy hellpit filled with twats”. Yup, Glastonbury. Or, as you’re supposed to call it to show how hip and on the ball you are, Glasto.

So how can all that mud and squalor really be the same as those nice people in nice clothes at nice old Wimblebore? Well, for a start, it has its own rituals and air of good humoured camaraderie which are just as likely to result in the call for a sick bag as the tennis people’s behaviour is. Then there’s the fact that the audience is exclusively white. And, just like its SW London counterpart, Glasto will not be playing host to the inhabitants of sink estates. Food and drink at both venues is ridiculously overpriced another means of keeping the oiks at bay.

There’s one more similarity. The BBC. Yes, Glasto is now another of the BBC’s staples and one it plugs relentlessly. To be fair, the coverage is not as anodyne as that of the tennis, but it is very careful not to frighten the horses. Nobody sticks a camera in a tent to see what’s going on, because they may well get a nasty shock. The phrase ‘sex and drugs and rock and roll’ is not a lie, but the BBC pretends it is.

Having berated the two events for being a bit too middle class, we should balance things up a bit by stating that nobody begrudges people sticking together with others of their ilk if that’s what turns them on.

Neither should it be anyone else’s business if being ever so slightly naff isn’t a matter of concern to the individual concerned.

But you can’t help but wonder if the BBC couldn’t be a bit more adventurous in its coverage of major events. It seems stuck with a mindset that thinks that just because something’s been done a certain way for the last 30 years, then it’s the only way to do it.

Which is why Mark Lawrenson still has a job.

Sadly.

steveward2000@hotmail.com

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WRITTLE INTERNATIONAL SCOOTER COLLECTIVE

‘Big Shaun’ in his Harrington jacket

‘The Collective’ congregated outside the recycling zone at Tesco - and some of ’em look as though they have been!

The Edge got wind of this right local motley crew just before they scootered off for a right refreshing (aka boozy) long-weekend away at Camber Sands in Sussex (Pontins, that is).

To be perfectly honest, it’s not often The Edge becomes intoxicated by anyone or anything it happens to interview, but the day after bumping into these guys of the W.I.S.C., I not so accidently found myself inside Newcombe’s on New Street in Chelmsford and almost purchased a ‘Limited Edition’ 300cc Vespa right there and then, such was the spirit and camaraderie that these guys evoked.

running the place didn’t know what’d hit her.”

When the guys eventually reached their cell blocks at Camber Sands, they immediately set about getting stuck into the 350 quids worth of beer that their Albanian back-up driver had couriered down from Tesco, Chelmsford.

Then it was a case of having the three esses - a shit, a shave, and a shower - before 3,000 scooter boys/blokes all congregated together for some serious drinking, dancing (dancing?) and partying to doubtless Mod-type-tunes until the Burger Van took a proper pasting at 4:00am.

But I’ve honestly never been into scooters. Not as an adolescent. Not even when Jamie Oliver first sprang onto our screens with his scooter in the hallway. Never. Not until I started hiring them out for peanuts on Thai holidays where you drive all over the islands without a helmet. Marvellous.

“Snoring’s a real problem,” admits Oz. “Our group do seem to be able to make a great deal of noise.” (Christ, let’s be hearing from some of their wives and girlfriends then, please, ladies!)

I think that what it was....what it was when I first saw the W.I.S.C.....I think I just thought, ‘What a cracking excuse to have a mid-life crisis.’

Only this is what really worries The Edge: the guys were back up at 8.30am for a scooter trip en masse to Hastings, and seriously, how many of ’em would have passed a breathalyzer test, hmmm???

Maybe some of these guys are reliving their youth? Whatever. But if I get a scooter, it’ll be a whole new ball-game for me as I’ve never even owned one before.

Ozzie (Austen Burrows - below right) is their leader. Their Sting (in Quadrophenia - 1979).

Their leading man. “Took us seven hours to get to Camber Sands in the end,” he informed The Edge, “what with all the breakdowns, punctures and fag stops. Sometimes we’d make detours through towns just for the crack and it was hilarious when all 32 of us poured into the same rickety little caff for a late breakfast. Poor old dear

The Edge does take its hat off to ’em all though, because scootering is pootering and the bottom line is: it’s really kinda quirky, man!

Edge Ed. gets straight down to Newcombe’s to try one out The Edge 077 646 797 44

Paul Weller’s Dad, per chance?

The guys stock up on isotonic drinks and health food bars for their ‘back-up vehicle’, pre their trip to Sussex.

W.I.S.C. ‘leader of the pack’ Oz & his ‘Man From U.N.C.L.E.’ t-shirt at the Chelmsford Beer Festival Page 29

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GREEDY PIG TOTALLY TRACIE Say Hello - Wave Goodbye Before I launch into this months tirade of nonsense, I want to be serious for a moment and whole heartedly assure every single Edge reader out there that no-oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mobile â&#x20AC;&#x2122;phone was hacked into in order to produce this monthâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s column.

The work you see here is purely off my own back after a couple of G&Tâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s and a bit of prodding to get my arse into gear

by The Ed. Thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s not to say I wouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have hacked into anyoneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s â&#x20AC;&#x2122;phone had I been able to get a signal long enough to do so. You see, these days, I spend my whole life hanging out of the front bedroom window, clinging onto the window sill for dear life, whilst trying to balance the â&#x20AC;&#x2122;phone in my ear and press the keys in the vain attempt of possibly getting one bar up on my cell to actually make a call. â&#x20AC;&#x2122;Course, none of the slick sales people told me that there is no signal in my area and, indeed, it seems to be most areas! The cheeky so and soâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s even called me up the other day to remind me that I still had 2999 minutes left to use up of my monthly allowance.

Chance would be a fine thing. Oh to be able to hold a conversation lasting over 10 seconds without the line cutting out on me.

Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a dead cert no â&#x20AC;&#x2122;phone hacker came from this county, thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s for sure.

But I have to say the one thing that puzzles me more than anything in this whole sorry saga of â&#x20AC;&#x2122;phone hacking is how the heck did Ross Kemp, aka Grant Mitchell from Eastenders, ever manage to marry Rebecca Brooks, the woman who ran the newspaper behind the â&#x20AC;&#x2122;phone hacking scandal, in the first place?

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know is how the hell they smuggle these weapons onto the aircraft in the first place? I cannot even manage to get a pot of face cream on board in my hand luggage, let alone a rocket launcher.

One thingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a dead cert though; these so called terrorists obviously donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t fly with a budget airline with a restriction of but 18 kilos of luggage, now do they?

Villagers near the airports are being urged to dial 999 if they spot anyone suspicious lurking in the hedgerows with a missile launcher.

I ask you.

Given that, in the past, the police in Essex have not been adverse to issuing some Neighbourhood Watch groups with speed guns to keep us all in line, letâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s just hope they donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t start letting them play with surface-to-air missiles, because put it this way, I wouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t want to be any motorist going but a few miles over the speed limit near Stansted in the near future.

For all those of you about to fly off somewhere sunny for your hols, be assured for although we live in dangerous times, Neighbourhood Watch is on full alert. Whilst most Neighbourhood Watch meetings concern themselves with day-to-day crimes such as speeding, lawn mower thefts and a bit of antisocial behaviour, police around London airports and Stansted have been touring village halls with a rocket launcher to warn residents of the dangers of terrorism.

Officers have been drafted in from the special aviation squad and are said to be particularly concerned that cheap surface-to-air weapons smuggled in from Afghanistan could be used by terrorists to bring down â&#x20AC;&#x2122;planes.

Now hang on a minute. What I want to

Top 5 For anyone who has decided to holiday at home this year and is looking for a whole new experience, then look no further than Pevors Farm in Essex, the proud winners of the Essex Tourism Award for two consecutive years and Essexâ&#x20AC;&#x2DC;s best kept secret. You certainly wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t need to worry about lots of baggage as this is exclusively a holiday for naturists, set in acres of woodland and meadows, situated right in the very heart of our county. Pevors proudly boasts itself as being in the top 5 of â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;bare allâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; places in the UK. It is run to a very high standard by John and Margaret Lewis, who themselves love to sunbathe in the buff and regularly join their guests for cocktails.

When asked what the best advice they could offer to first time guests, they said, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Always look the person in the eye and do remember to sit on a towelâ&#x20AC;&#x153; - (especially useful advice when sitting on the cream sofaâ&#x20AC;&#x2DC;s). So, if you fancy getting naked - Pevorsfarm.co.uk could be the holiday destination for you.

Red Red Wine - Makes Me Feel So Fine For all of us who have struggled with fitness programmes and have trouble sticking to diets (says me eating a bar of dairy milk whilst typing this), finally some good news. Scientists have made an exciting breakthrough, calling it â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;exercise in a bottleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;. (I just love the sound of this one already!) Research shows that drinking red wine every day helps fight the flab. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s apparently got something to do with an antioxidant called â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;reseveratrolâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; (try saying that after a few bottles of Merlot).

A long term study of 20,000 people revealed that those who drank a couple of glasses of red wine per day put on much less weight than those who stuck to soft drinks and water. So stick that up your jumper, all you health freaks who walk around proudly clutching a bottle of Evian to your lips 24/7.

Presumably the theory must be that the more you drink, the more fitter you get?

Well, after a couple of crates of Pinot Noir, undoubtedly I could have the arse of Kylie Minogue.

Now where did I put those metallic shorts?

LOVE IS IN THE AIR

Tracie123@aol.com

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