The Edge Magazine December 09

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EDGE

the ISSUE NO: 158

Our voucher is for life not just for Christmas

‘THE CHELMSFORD FANZINE’

DECEMBER 2009

LLIFE IFE H HAS AS IITS TS MOMENT TSS . . .

All i want for christmas

AKE ...MA K E TH THEM UNFORGETT TA ABLE

3 Barr Barrack ack Square, Chelmsford, C 01245 5004 500499 499 www.theedgemag.co.uk

The Edge, Chelmsford, CM2 6XD.

Telephone 01245 348256

Mobile: 077 646 797 44

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. Thee Car .

Carvery rvery Hou House se O Open on Christm Christmas mas Day Sit back b k andd en eenjoy nnjoy j y a fabulous fabulou fabulo f b l uuss Christmas C Chhristmas it day dayy meal meall cooked cooke cookkeedd andd served servedd by by us!!

M Menu Our special Christm Christmas mas day menu is avai available ilable betweenn 12pm and 5pm

T Start To Minestrone Mine estrone Soup So p servedd with a crusty roll.

Chicken Chick ken Liver pate

3 courses courrsess for ££34 95 95 £34.95 £34.9 34.9

with sliced bag baguette guette and cranberry sauce.

Prawn Praw wn Cocktail

V

with a freshh salad and lemon twist.

Stuffed Stuf fffeed Mushrooms V with cheese & cchive filling and a aioli dip.

Too Follow Traditional Roas Roast st Turkey and Stuf Stuffing fffinng or Traditioonal Roast Beef Traditional with all your fav favourite vourite Christmas trimmings.

Salmon Sa almon fillet served from the car carvery rvery with seasonal vegetables. vegetables.

Wild Mushroom M risotto Other Carvery options will be available o availaable onn the day. day.

Too Finish Christmas Pudd Pudding ding with Brandy Sau Sauce uce Baked Strawberr ry & Vanilla Cheesec cake Strawberry Cheesecake Profiteroles withh Chocolate Fudge Sa auce Sauce (There will alsoo be a selection of dessertss available fo orm our dessert fridge) form 34A A Moulsham Street Chelmsford Chelm msford Essex CM2 0HX Tel: 012 01245 245 355083 info@the Email: info o@the carveryhouse.co.uk www.thecarveryhouse.co.uk www .thhecarveryhouse.co.uk

“Don’t forget “Don’t forgget oour ur live entertainment entertaainment starts in January”

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Email: chelmsford.uk@fastsign s.com

H CHR APPY I FRO STMA FAS M TH S E TS TEA IGNS M! Victoria Road Chelmsford CM1 1GP (opp.Police Station)

Interview with Spin

Oh bugger ...here we go again. ...see page 13

Think of it as a tax haven.

Purchase your SLK-Class before VAT rises January 1st.

Purchase a new SLK-Class before December 31st and you’ll still enjoy the Government’s 2.5% VAT reduction, as well as Mercedes-Benz finance that starts as low as Typical 5.8% APR*.

Contact us on 01245 399 399 for more information or to book a test drive.

Mercedes-Benz of Chelmsford White Hart Lane, Springfield, Chelmsford CM2 5EF 01245 399 399 www.mercedes-benzofchelmsford.co.uk

Official government fuel consumption figures in mpg (litres per 100km) for the SLK-Class range: urban 16.0(17.7)-25.4(11.1), extra urban 32.1(8.8)-48.7(5.8), combined 23.5(12.0)-36.2(7.8). CO2 emissions: 288-184 g/km.

MODEL FEATURED IS A MERCEDES-BENZ SLK 200K AT £30,845.43 ON THE ROAD INCLUDING OPTIONAL METALLIC PAINT AT £606.81 AND 17” ALLOY WHEELS AT £753.62 (ON THE ROAD PRICE INCLUDES VAT, DELIVERY, 12 MONTHS’ ROAD FUND LICENCE, NUMBER PLATES, FIRST REGISTRATION FEE AND FUEL). *THIS TYPICAL 5.8% APR FINANCE OFFER IS AVAILABLE ON SLK-CLASS MODELS EXCLUDING AMG ENGINES REGISTERED BETWEEN 1ST OCTOBER AND 31ST DECEMBER 2009. OFFER CANNOT BE USED IN CONJUNCTION WITH ANY OTHER PUBLISHED OFFER FROM THE RETAILER. TERMS AND CONDITIONS APPLY. PRICES CORRECT AT TIME OF GOING TO PRESS (11/09). FINANCE PROVIDED BY MERCEDES-BENZ FINANCIAL SERVICES UK LIMITED, MK7 8ND.

www.theedgemag.co.uk

three

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shaking like a shitting dog sim. A bad attack of DTs after a night on the sauce pre-Christmas.

The Edge Editor’s Column Retailers: Now you can introduce ‘festive music’ into your stores. This month. December, right?

Only if I’m honest - and I generally try to be - I’ve had enough of the whole Christmas shebang (‘She bangs, she bangs...’) already.

The bloody Pogues mid-November whilst I’m busy trying on a coat in a shop? I don’t think so.

It’s sick, that’s what it is.

You know when you give children too many fizzy drinks and they go a bit skeewiff? Well, what do retailers honestly think they’re doing to us adults when we’re out shopping and all we can hear is the incessant droning on of: ‘Snow is falling, all around us, children playing, having fun...’?

Sheer and utter ghastly.

So yeah, by the time ‘the festive season’ really does arrive in earnest, I’m already sick to the back teeth of it.

Mrs. Edge likes Chrimbly tho’, bless her. She even gets a little sentimental about the whole affair, particularly after a couple of glasses of sherry. What’s more, this year she’s absolutely insistent that we really are putting the tree up, after I’ve managed to convince her otherwise for the past couple of years.

It’s probably an ‘age thing’, but whenever

Christmas comes around these days, I always think, ‘What? Again? Already?’

I suppose, like anything, if you do it properly, then Christmas is alright. But to do something properly takes time, imagination and, usually, money, and by and large, most High Street stores can’t be arsed with any of that, so they just bang out the same old CD music they banged out last year and the year before and the year before that...

But when you go round to someone’s house and they’ve really made an effort, and the fire’s roaring, and there’s some choice Christmas carols playing not too loudly in the background, and a glass of port is shoved firmly in your hand, and a warm homemade mince pie in the other, then that is definitely pretty handsome.

When it’s done tackily though, oh dear. Which, let’s face it, is what we’re exposed to far more often than not, and that’s when it all becomes... well, not to put too fine a point on it, it kind of drains you of the will to live.

If you think about it, there’s a massive, ridiculous, high expectation level attached to Christmas that rivals that of going on holiday. But whereas a holiday generally delivers because you’re seeing and experiencing something new and the weather’s blinding....what’s new about Christmas?

Which is why a helluva lot more effort and creativity is required by all concerned in order to turn that which to all intents and purposes is exactly the same, into something new, vibrant and fresh.

Jot any good ideas you might have onto a postcard and send them to The Edge, please.

New Years Eve: For once I’m actually looking forward to New Years Eve. For one thing, I reckon it’ll be good to see the back of 2009 because, let’s face it, it’s hardly been the best of years, has it?

We’re spending it in Sewage (Swanage) this year and our friends The F wits tell us everyone dresses up in fancy dress and congregates in the *** centre of town where much ale drinking and mer-

Do any friendly architects read The Edge?

If so, please get in touch as I need to get some drawings/plans put forward to the council to hopefully redevelop ‘Edge Towers’ a bit, only I’ve never dealt with an architect before, but I do watch an awful lot of those ‘home transformation’ programmes, if that counts for ought? riment ensues, which all sounds very Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall to me (who resides in Dorset), so it should be good. And, y’never know, Jonathan Ross might even turn up (he owns a farmhouse in Swanage)!

Last year, the good lady wife and I were in Krabi on New Years Eve and the sky was literally awash with those lantern things with the flame inside, and all the locals were down on the beach, and it was still warm at midnight.

Watch it bloody well lash it down whilst we’re in Sewage (Swanage).

But whatever you’re up to at the end of this month, readers, The Edge wishes you well. And remember, if we all make a little bit more of an effort, then maybe things really don’t have to be the way they’ve always been, and maybe we can make things just that little bit better.

I think both our faith and our pride could do with a much needed boost, but that’s something we’ve all got to make happen. But if we each do our bit, then collectively that can turn into a beautiful, wonderful, powerful thing.

That’s what it says on the label, at any rate.

new years eve

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

party at...

exchange way chelmsford

House, RnB, Christmas Classics & Everything Chart!

over 18+, smart, fashionable dress code ID will be required as proof of age for -21 drink promotions available all night tickets £5 in advance £10 on the door www.club-fusion.co.uk 01245 505880 www.theedgemag.co.uk

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gentleman’s wash n. A hurried washing of the male genitals (usually in the kitchen sink).

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Man About Town “There’s a new men’s barber just opened up in town.� “Is he over at the saloon (spit)?� “No, Hank. He’s got a business to run. He’s over at New London Road.� “Hmmmm. Is he lookin’ for trouble (spit)?� “What’s gotten into you, Hank?

He’s hardly lookin’ for trouble cos he’s just given me a special OPENING OFFER FREE WET SHAVE*!� “Yeah (spit)? That figures. Your chin looks like a babies bum and you smell kinda strange too.� “Ah, that’ll be the aftershave and the dab of cologne he put behind my ears after the cold towel treatment.� “Cold towel what? Say, is this boy a rooster?� “No way, Hank. You just need to lighten up a little and git with the twenty first century. Gentlemen’s grooming is all the rage these days. It’s not just the ladies that like to be pampered, y’know.� “Well, I only had a bath just last month, so I knows all about gentlemen’s grooming, thank you very much. Tut. I’m off to the saloon for a beer. You comin’?� “Just had one.� “Where?� “Stuart gave me one whilst I was havin’ a shave.� “He gave you one (spit)? What? I thought you said he wasn’t a rooster?� “He gave me a beer, Hank. A choice of Guinness or Becks from one of them there ’fridge contraptions.� *Available until 5th December “A ’fridge??? Damnit, I gotta get me over whenever convenient. there and check this new boy out!�

20%

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Valid 23rd November - 31st December 2009 +� �‰Ž] “�…Ž„ ’…‘•‰’…„ „‰“ƒ�•Ž”  ��Œ‰…„  ” ƒˆ…ƒ‹�•” …Ž”…’ ƒ�„… EDGE09

www.theedgemag.co.uk

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nocturnal emission n. medic. The end result of a wet dream.

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WHAT THIS PICTURE SAYS TO THE EDGE...

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think you all know by now that your editor is not a parent. Nor do the parents of any nephews and nieces I might have feel comfortable leaving their offspring in my charge.

That’s primarily because they do not trust me not to pour their kids a R.S.B. (right stiff brandy) and tell them mucky stories liberally sprinkled with flowery language that, were such ever to be repeated from said child’s mouth across the dining table, would immediately result in them being clipped around the earhole, like such matters used to be dealt with in the good old days.

I

However, in The Edge’s defence, these days it totally disagrees with the way in which most kids are brought up. To The Edge’s mind, it thinks Christmas should be regarded as a time for learning (a bloody good lesson) rather than pandering to greedy requests for computer games, DVDs and Arsenal season-tickets etc.

For instance, take this game for 5-7 year olds

by Acme called ‘CHRIST! THE BLOODY HOUSE IS ON FIRE.’ In a nutshell, it teaches children the dangers of having a crafty fag in their bedroom during that special couple of hours between them returning home from school and their parents getting home from work. Furthermore, it acts as a deterrent not to fall behind with the house insurance payments, which all things considered can result in a fire being a bit of an expensive doo.

Proper games like this also serve to act as a lesson to all schoolchildren who have aspirations of being firemen when they grow up. In short, it helps teach them not to go anywhere near smoke without wearing the proper BSC kitemark standard 6942 breathing apparatus, or you’re bound to come unstuck. (See, kids, how the fireman up the ladder has totally lost consciousness? His right leg has haphazardly lolloped over the side of the ladder and no doubt any minute he’ll slide back down to

Mother Earth, rupturing his bollocks along the way, as though it were the familiar pole back at the station....or a right greasy one on a stage in a den of iniquity such as The Cave, a gentlemen’s club, situated opposite Chelmsford railway station).

Real life games such as ‘CHRIST! THE BLOODY HOUSE IS ON FIRE’ may not necessarily be viewed as ‘fun for all the family’ by the likes of grandma and grandad, who much prefer Snakes & Ladders and Ludo (but let’s face it, they lost the plot years ago), but they are invaluable in teaching children about what life in the 21st century is really all about.

As is yet another new release by Acme, due out on 7th December, called ‘OH NO! MUM’S BEEN AT THE VODKA AGAIN’. In this one, kids returning home from school must get their mum compos mentis before the main breadwinner of the house returns home, expecting his tea on the table. Kids must get their mum off the living-room carpet, up the stairs, undressed, showered, remanicured and able to say, “Hi, honey. Had a good day at work?” without slurring her words, puking, or collapsing into a jibbering heap.

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monkey n. A ladies front-bottom. “Does the monkey want a banana?” A toothless gibbon.

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SAVE YOURSELF £££’s THIS CHRISTMAS

MILK

at Moulsham Street’s licensed ADULT DISCOUNT STORE! R18 DVD’s Sexy Adult Toys Herbal Viagra

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TOR FREE RABBIT VIBRA 8 DVD (worth £30) OR R1 spending to every customer over £20

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Polite, friendly, professional staff.

Over 18’s only.

8.OOPM 14TH-23RD DECEMBER! LATE NIGHT CHRISTMAS OPENING ’TIL 167 Moulsham Street, Chelmsford.

TEL: 01245 607604 www.moulshamstreet.co.uk OPEN MONDAY - SATURDAY 10am-6pm

C

the

ave

Chelmsford’s Only Pole Dancing Nightclub OPEN: Thursday, Friday & Saturdays 8pm-2am Free Admission before 10pm (£5 after) Topless pole dancing every 10 minutes at no extra charge Fully Nude Private Dances ONLY £10 Dress code: smart/casual OVER 18’s strict door I.D. Opposite Chelmsford Railway Station

TELEPHONE: 01245 349262 www.theedgemag.co.uk

WHO has a bloody milkman these days?

I’ll tell you who.....one of The Edge’s neighbours, that’s bloody well who.

I thought we all simply bought our milk from the supermarket these days, or the corner shop on the way home from work?

OK, I could probably stand it if it was simply a milkman whistling a Blue Mink tune as he wandered up the garden path, a couple of milk bottles chinking together in one hand, no doubt poking his nose with the first finger of his other hand.

HEY, I might even be able to put up with the sound of a cow mooing whilst it was being milked for that ultra fresh pinta first thing of a morning just outside my garden gate.

BUT what gives me the right raving hump is to have the misfortune of having but one bloody neighbour who’s daily bloody pinta is delivered via a bloody diesel wagon that the driver leaves idling right outside ‘Edge Towers’ in what seems to be the middle of the bloody night, before ramming the bloody gearbox into reverse and buggering off to presumably deliver another (singular) pinta to yet another (singular) house on another bloody estate, thus leaving me unable to get back to bloody sleep again, all for the sake of a pint of bloody milk!

WHEN I were a lad, the milkman used to come ’round on his little milk-float and deliver to everyone’s house, not just one. And there’d be little love-notes left for him, like: An extra pinta today please, Milkman. x THEN there was the POP MAN who used to come every Wednesday and I’d choose between Dandelion & Burdock, Limeade, Coca Cola and the ultra delicious Cream Soda.

BUT none of them, none of these buggers ever made so much bloody noise as that bloody milkman in his diesel bloody truck who ruins my bloody dreams these days.

Honestly, there ought to be a bloody law against it.

NOISE pollution is one of the greatest blights in our society these days and as we’re forever being more and more crammed in, it’s all the more important for people to show respect for their neighbours and not disturb them.

SO, Mr Milkman, why don’t you either park at the end of the street, or buy a quieter bloody van? Either way, I need my beauty sleep, and what’s clearly in evidence is that I am far from getting enough.

Ay thank you.

pair of twats have been drowned at birth?

Answer: Quite simply, no, because their mummy and daddy love them.

But look, people, if we’re not part of the solution, then we must be part of the problem. Right?

And in The Edge’s humble opinion, everyone who has (a) never watched the X-Factor and/or (b) has voted for these two talentless twats must feel a certain sense of responsibility for, for....

For either celebrating and/or wallowing in that which is distinctly less than mediocrity.

Only for Christ’s sake don’t blame the brothers Grimes. They’re just a couple of chancers from Dublin who’ve happened to make good above and beyond their wildest dreams. They have, because let’s face it, they won’t be forgotten in a hurry, will they?

And do you know why? It’s because (a) their hair, and (b) the fact that there’s two of ’em (one twat on his own is easily dismissable, but a pair of twats really is a very good hand).

The bottom line is that John and Edward are nothing more than a pair of earrings in Ratners.

They are NO DAMN GOOD at what they profess to be/do (they can neither sing nor dance). But hey, it’s not about that anymore. Oh no, it’s gone way beyond being judged on talent.

The Edge fervently believes that what has happening is that all of life’s losers who watch the X-Factor (and that’s completely different to saying that only life’s losers watch the X-Factor, so make certain you’re reading this correctly) are having their say. They know that their lives are shit and deep down they accept that what they are seeing is shit. But hey, there’s no way (and here’s the thing) that that’s going to stop them voting for that which resembles the shit of their own lives, because the fact that they’ve got a say in the matter makes them feel better about their own shit lives. And shit is what, unfortunately, is increasingly being dished up to the rest of us, poorly disguised as ‘acceptable fayre’.

It’s that unacceptable pub lunch that you don’t bother to complain about.

It’s that rude and unhelpful member of staff who’s attitude ought to be severely questioned. It’s the driver who shows no consideration for anyone else but himself. It’s the supermarket queue-jumper. It’s everyone who is out for themselves and **** everyone else.

Jedwood are merely a sign of these increasingly depressing times.

And it’s our fault for letting it happen.

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Ghandi’s flip-flops adj. Descriptive of the dryness of a nun’s lower quarters.

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Essex Cars & Limos Weddings - Parties - Airports - Executive Travel Cars & Limousines for all occasions Special Christmas Party Limo service offers now available.

Please ring for details.

WHY NOT ARRIVE IN STYLE? Telephone for further details

01245 442 777 www.essexlimocompany.com essexlimocompany@aol.com

Colon Hydrotherapy

NEW to Exquisite Beauty & Tanning What is colon hydrotherapy?

In short, colon hydrotherapy is better known as colonic irrigation. It is a safe and painless procedure in which accumulated fecal matter is gently released from the colon by introducing warm filtered water.

Special massage techniques are used to soften the deposits and cleanse the colon.

Benefits of colon hydrotherapy Clearing the colon of hardened waste material Stimulation of the body's immune system Allow free passage of nutrients into the blood stream Prevention of toxic absorption Provision of a favourable environment for friendly bacteria and micro-flora aiding digestion Strengthening muscular contraction of the colon (peristalsis) Facts and information about Colon Hydrotherapy The colon is a major part of the excretory system, responsible for eliminating food and other wastes, as well as protecting the body from infection and disease.

In a normal functioning colon, this is achieved with the help of billions of friendly bacteria; however, the delicate balance of this internal ecosystem can be easily disturbed by factors such as stress, pollution, poor diet, certain drugs, smoking and exposure to toxic substances.

Did you know that the healthy transit time for food through our bodies is less than 24 hours? Yet, on average (in the UK), the timespan has now risen to 60 hours for men and 70 hours for women.

Cost First treatment, including initial consultation (1hr 15 minutes) £60 Follow up treatment (45 minutes) £50 Introductory offer available until 31st January 2010 3 sessions for £110 Exquisite Beauty & Tanning already have around 50 people who have put their names down on a waiting list for colon hydrotherapy. If you would like to add your name to the list, or require any further information, please contact Danielle on 01245 256152.

D&A HAIRDRESSING DOWN TOWN DENTAL CLINIC

Dental Surgeon & Orthodontist Della, Andrew, Christine, Jay, Kate & Nina (beautician from Therapyland at Great Waltham) would like to take this opportunity to wish all of our clientele and readers of The Edge a very MERRY CHRISTMAS and a preposterously HAPPY NEW YEAR! Stylist Required.

Please contact us urgently!

Main Road Great Waltham Telephone: 01245 360080 The Edge 01245 348256

199 Springfield Road Chelmsford Telephone: 01245 257925

N.H.S. & PRIVATE PATIENTS 19a High Street (above Optical Express), Chelmsford, CM1 1BE.

TELEPHONE: 01245 256797 info@downtownclinic.co.uk

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Springhealth Leisure Centre Brian Close Chelmsford Essex CM2 9DZ

Extravaganza Thursday 10th December - Thursday 17th December Buy 3 gift vouchers, cheapest one free Universal Contour Wraps £50 each. Buy 2 get another free Dermalogica and OPI gift boxes available.

Bikini line £210

IPL hair removal special course of 8 Brazillian £300 Hollywood £350 Underarm £170

December Special offers.

Spray tanning 50% off Semi permanent lashes now £75 10% off all acrylic nails 30% off all sunbed courses.

Semi-permanent make up Eyebrows reduced to £250. £50 off all other semi-permanent make-up.

Offer ends February 2010

Lip £150

Botox at Exquisite. £99 per area for all new clients to botox who book in or pre-pay on 11th December.

Stephanie’s Hairdressing Cut & blow-dry £23 Highlights from £20 Full head tint only £30 Gift vouchers now available 10% off your total hairdressing bill for all new clients with this voucher Not to be used in conjunction with any other offer.

To be used tuesday- Friday till end of Febuary 2010 - Only one voucher per new client

New to Exquisite - Colon Hydrotherapy (irrigation) Benefits detoxify/aid in weight loss/helps IBS and constipation/boost energy levels and immune system Introductory offer ‘til end of January 2010 - Buy two get the third FREE! Total £110 First treatment £60 Follow up treatments £50

All offers are subject to availability and the house holds the right to withdraw any offer without prior notice. All price’s are E. & O.E

01245 256152

www.exquisitebeautyandtanning.co.uk

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ale stones n. Downpour of marble sized tods after a night spent quaffing the ale.

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David Sherman’s

bar b ar & b bistro istr to

BEVERAGE REPORT HIDDEN TREASURE

The winner of the Essex Food & Drink Awards 2009 Best Newcomer Restaurant is open Christmas Day for a sumptuous 4-course, Champagne Christmas lunch at £75 per head.

Book now for a true festive feast – we promise you and your family a warm welcome, and a relaxed friendly environment.

The way Christmas should be!

Visit our website for menus and full details, or call 01245 266612. info@mustardbistro.co.uk

Knight Meats Ltd. Knight Meats are local suppliers of high quality meat, poultry, game and delicatessen products to the trade. Years of experience, together with well trained, highly motivated staff working in an excellent environment means that you get exactly what you want: consistency.....time after time after time.

Suppliers to: BARDA, BARN BRASSERIE (Great Tey), THE BLUE BRIDGE (Writtle), BLUE STRAWBERRY (Hatfield Peverel), BISTROTHEQUE (London), FLASH (Royal Academy of Arts, Burlington Gardens), GRAHAMS ON THE GREEN (Writtle), IVORY ROOMS (Billericay), THE LION (Boreham), MASONS RESTAURANTS etc.

“Knight Meats play an integral part in the success of the restaurant and banqueting facilities within our hotel chain.”

David Hart (Group Executive Head Chef, Elizabeth Hotels)

Unit 1, 29a Robjohns Road, Widford Industrial Estate, Chelmsford, CM1 3AG. Telephone: 01245 354167 Fax: 01245 354123 Email: knightmeatsltd@tiscali.co.uk www.knightmeats.com The Edge 01245 348256

Chelmsford CAMRA has been dishing out the awards again, this time in the form of the Fred Dowry Award for Most Improved Pub. This trophy, named in memory of a late activist of the branch (and avid Spurs fan, although that will not be held against him) has been given annually for the past few years to a pub deemed to have shown a marked improvement in a significant campaigning area, such as range of beers, internal environment, or beer quality. Previous winners have included the Woolpack in Mildmay Road and the United Brethren in Moulsham Street, both of which made considerable strides in several areas following a change of tenant.

This year's winner is a pub renowned in the history of good beer in Chelmsford, but which remains unknown to many residents of the town The White Horse in Townfield Street. Often, when I tell people I drink in The White Horse, the response is either, “Oh, that foody place in Great Baddow?” or “Isn't that called Mason's Too these days?” No, no, no - we are blessed with a third Achromatic Equine, and it's right in the town centre, tucked away just behind the railway station.

After a few years as some kind of music venue (I'm too young to remember it in that guise), The White Horse was already established as Chelmsford's premier beer house by the time I accrued sufficient years to drink there. Nigel Crofts was the man charged with running the place and many a merry night was spent in there with several pints of Otter Bitter or some of his many other guest beers. Nigel moved on, and the pub suffered the usual disease of pococurante stand-in management - poor beer, inferior selection and consequent loss of trade. Rob Furber (formerly of The Royal Steamer and The Rendezvous) managed to revive the place to a considerable degree during his tenure of three years, achieving CAMRA's Branch Pub of the Year award before he too moved on. I shall not relay my understanding of the cause of either his or Nigel's departure, lest a pubco's solicitors should be reading; suffice it to say that we were soon back to the days of temporary managers, the only merit of which situation is to give your correspondent an excuse to write 'pococurante' twice in one article.

Further revivals of fortune took place in more recent years, but trade never reached anything close to its former levels and, 12 months ago, the pub was looking distinctly shabby. Enter new managers Chris and Cam, who closed the pub upon their arrival for a major refurb. When they unlocked the doors again, it wasn't just the décor that had improved. Beer range had been given a major kick into the current age, and the place actually had life! Chris and Cam clearly realise that having a bit of personality and enthusiasm is a desirable requisite in managers and staff alike; I'm not drawing specific comparisons for fear of those legal eagles, but I'm sure you can imagine that such characteristics have not always been noted here in the past.

Two Adnams beers are generally on sale, with a preference toward the standard pair of Bitter and Broadside, although these have, on occasions, been replaced by others from East Anglia's finest brewery, such as the golden ale to end all golden ales, Explorer. A dark beer is invariably offered, particularly the superb Brains Dark from Chris's home territory in Wales. Fuller's London Pride remains as a house favourite of many year's standing, a reputation it has kept in defiance of several months of bad quality under previous management. Guest beers from breweries of all sizes and geographic origin make up the rest of the six or seven usually available. What's more, it's working; the fine selection and good quality of the cask beers has attracted many customers back to the place, and no doubt the reputation has made many others curious enough to pay their first, but not last, visit.

Other attractions include good basic pub grub, Chelmsford's only bar billiards table, plus a loyalty card scheme which entitles carriers to 20% off just about everything prior to 7 o'clock (a least, that's my understanding; whatever the precise terms, it means you can get a pint for much less than £2.50 without having to drink in an aircraft hangar). So hearty congratulations to Chris and Cam and all their staff.

To find The White Horse, head out the side doors of the railway station, past the car park of The Original Plough (on your left) and turn right at The Royal Steamer. Alternatively, cross Duke Street from the bus station, walk along Wells Street (next to the Co-Op) and go straight across the junction into Townfield Street.

Enjoy!

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Dutch miracle n. The magical appearance of bongo mags under a mattress or on top of a wardrobe in a hotel room.

“Waterfront Place nearly killed me!”

It occurred to The Edge that it hadn’t done one of it’s ‘Having a Brew’ pieces on anyone for a while. Clearly it’s always nice to have a brew and a bit of a chinwag, but pray, who could I choose as a ‘high profile’ subject?

Indeed, does Chelmsford have any high profile subjects?

The Edge thinks it does.

Having lived in this parish for the past 27 years, your editor genuinely believes that the most dramatic change-of-face that has happened to our town during that period is not the pedestrianisation of our High Street, nor the opportunities offered by the creation of the Anglia Ruskin University, nor the construction of Beaulieu Park.

Nope, The Edge thinks it was the opening of a mere restaurant that made our town’s eyes pop out of its head the most. And that restaurant was Waterfront Place, as it was then, because it was the very first time that Chelmsford appeared to have something that didn’t necessarily look as though it belonged here. It simply wasn’t what we were used to. It felt as though the town didn’t deserve it. It appeared as though it had been lifted straight out of the streets of London.

And one man as responsible....

E.E. So, Spin, how did you get into the restaurant game?

Spin: I’ve always loved America. I must have been one of the first to climb aboard Freddie Laker’s sky trains. I used to go back and forth across the Atlantic because I just loved it over there. I used to bum around and particularly enjoyed the whole ethos of the All American Diner. What did we have to compare it with?

Just the Hard Rock Cafe in London. So I opened Simply Blues in Leigh-on-Sea in 1981.

E.E. What, just like that? Without any experience in the catering game?

Spin: (Smiles) When I was a young man, I used to work for a guy called Andy Barrett, initially on one of his hot dog stalls.

E.E. No shit?

Spin: Andy was an innovator. He also had a record shop and a clothes shop in Baddow Road and went on to run The Prince of Orange, which he turned into the best pub Chelmsford has ever seen, bar none. You’d get all sorts of people in there, from the suits to bikers to students. People just loved the atmosphere and that’s what Andy was so very good at. And, in essence, that’s what I’ve always tried to do too; create an environment that people like.

E.E. So let me get this right: a bloke called Andy Barrett and your love of the good ole USA were behind you opening up your very first restaurant when you were...how old exactly?

Spin: Twenty-six.

E.E. Whoa! I’d only just learnt how to tie my shoelaces by then, yet there’s you opening up your very first restaurant. Then what?

Spin: Back Inn Time in Chelmsford followed in 1986. Then came Simply Blues in Hornchurch in 1989.

E.E. All of which you sold to free you to open up Waterfront Place?

Spin: Yes. Waterfront Place was the big one.

E.E. I’ll say. But what you’ve recently created at The Lion Inn in Boreham is hardly small scale by comparison, is it?

Spin: Oh, it is in terms of the number of staff employed, particularly on the chef side. If I’d stayed at The Waterfront, I honestly think it would have killed me.

E.E. Really?

Spin: Without a doubt. The trouble was, I simply had to be there, constantly, in order for the standards I’d set to be maintained.

E.E. For what it’s worth, The Edge doesn’t think Waterfront Place has been the same since you left. It’s almost as if you’ve got the midas touch.

Spin: Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s simply down to making people feel comfortable and damned hard work.

E.E. Yeah, but I’d love to see what you’d do with (name of establishment mentioned had better remain strictly off the record)?

Spin: Well, there’d be no guarantees I could do anything with it at all, because don’t forget, it’s town centre and that’s a completely different animal. I don’t do town centre. For starters, there’s the rents, and all those guys who’re there have my deepest condolences. I always open up just outside of the main drag. New York has always fascinated me in that respect. You’ll often find a brand new restaurant opening up in a really down-at-heel district, yet people still flock there.

E.E. Chelmsford’s hardly New York though?

Spin: No. But if you’re good enough, you don’t have to be in Times Square.

E.E. “If you build it, they will come.”

Spin: Pardon?

E.E. Kevin Costner. Field of Dreams. Keep up.

Spin: (Smiles once again. Strange, quizzicle glance.)

E.E. OK, so what’s given you the most satisfaction of all?

Spin: Everything. Everything I’ve done has given me a huge sense of achievement, because opening up a restaurant is a massive ego trip. It’s the buzz of creating something and seeing it come to fruition. Seeing people having a great time in that which you’ve created is what it’s really all about.

E.E. But if you had to say?

Spin: OK. Then it’d have to be Waterfront Place.

E.E. Why? Spin: Because it was so totally different to anything Chelmsford had ever seen before at that particular time. As you so rightly pointed out, it was like a little piece of London coming to town. And I just love Conran, and what he’d already achieved influenced me greatly. Hey, at the end of the day, I’m probably the world’s greatest plagiarist!

Visit Spin at The Lion Inn, Main Road, Boreham, Nr. Chelmsford.

Page 13

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saloon doors n. A pair of well used flaps that one swaggers into, only to be thrown out three minutes later.

New British gangster film Dead Cert With Black & Blue Films, partners necessarily need to be fully conversant has a little more to it than meets the Martin Kemp, Jonathan Sothcott and in Hammer to enjoy yourself in front of eye. At a glance, it has all the usual Billy Murray have created the movie Dead Cert, but producer Jonathan thug thriller food groups represented: a equivalent of a rep company. Cherry Sothcott happens to be an enthusiastic bad boy trying to settle down with his picking the best available on and off- fan, so don't be surprised if you recogmissus, East End boys with bottle, a nise a reference or three. Veteran extÄÄç età{xÜ XÅ strip club, a turf war and beautiful busty British actor (and Brentwood homebirds. If it ain't broken, don't fix it. Am I owner) Billy Murray thought long and The Dark Side right? Well...er, no. Black & Blue Films hard about who he wanted to play the This is not going to be a festive column, have had the common sense to disrepivotal role of demonic Dante Livenko, writes Emily Breen. It is mid- gard this advice and subvert the ganglittle knowing that his friends and busiNovember, my fa-la-la-la has yet to kick ster genre into something very interestness partners had never considered in and I am consumed by thoughts of a ing indeed. Described as an ‘all-action anyone else but him. There was a palfar more murderous kind. If you want modern day interpretation of Bram pable sense of enthusiasm and affectalk of mistletoe, merry-making and Stokers Dracula’, the Dead Cert boys screen talent and reuniting them on tion on set for both the story and its mulled wine, then kindly move along. If, aren't simply tooling up against a rival successive pictures has helped the stars. Lead Craig Fairbrass, playing however, you are prepared to venture firm, they're fighting the undead and it team form a familiar bond that made for Freddy 'Dead Cert' Frankham, said over to the dark side, then step right really is rather cool. a warm welcome in spite of the freezing he'd “loved having all the boys together this way and do mind the blood.

Although we Brits have started to claw cold warehouse location. I only wish I - a real unit” and that more than anyI have spent much of the past month back a decent chunk of the commercial could say it was as easy to adjust to thing is the impression I took away from watching, writing and thinking about horror pie, with Edgar Wright's offerings grabbing a coffee with actors drenched the set. I have genuine optimism that horror. It began, naturally enough, with Hot Fuzz and (the marvellous) Shaun in their own blood! The set itself was a these boys might be on to something. It Halloween and several trips to see of the Dead being the most notable painstaking recreation of a nightclub all makes a crazy kind of sense that the things that went bump in the night, but examples, up until now our efforts have scene with cocktails and dancing girls Footsoldiers and the Essex Boys the splash of carnage reached further all been a wee bit cuddly and middle on tap. The first day I visited it dazzled these Football Factory dwelling hardand festooned my autumn with gore class. With a cast that includes Lock with new money, latex-clad ladies and men - would be the ones who might and ooze. As a girl who is always in Stock's Jason Flemyng and Dexter low forgiving lights, whilst by the last one day save the world. And whilst I favour of violent death (of the onscreen Fletcher, Rise of the Footsoldier and there were severed feet on the podium might love Simon Pegg every bit as variety - there are far too many 'happily EastEnders' alums Billy Murray and and the only things left dancing were much as the next girl, I know who I'd ever afters' floating around the cine- Craig Fairbrass, plus the legendary the writhing intestines of punters past. want by my side if the dead really did matic world for my liking), I am lately Steven Berkoff and a shoot primarily Awesome! rise up to kill us all. left wondering why, oh why, need all the based in Dagenham, this is a Brit Flick Writer and co-producer Ben Shillito "Deck the halls with bowels and victims have such saccharine sweet with balls and an Essex accent - and as intends a film that 'doesn't talk down to entrails..."

American screams? When is brutal The Edge has a vested interest in all its audience' and he credits them with (Expect the cinema release of Dead death going to strike closer to home? things local, I thought I’d give you a enough intelligence to understand the Cert sometime in 2010. For more covSoon, my pretties, soon. sneak peek behind the scenes. classical roots of the plot. You won't erage, go to www.heyuguys.co.uk) Page 14

MEMORABILIA WAY

Take a trip down Memorabilia lane!

A new memorabilia shop has just opened its doors in Chelmsford, just off the High Street (down the passage between Jessop’s and HSBC), selling music, sports and movie memorabilia.

You’ll be amazed at the celebrities on display.

Why not pop in for a browse! www.memorabiliaway.co.uk email us at info@memorabiliaway.co.uk t. 01245 355000 m. 07957 170 073

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talk to the judge n. To suck a copper’s truncheon by way of avoiding a speeding ticket.

Page 15

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She used to be all the rage at Christmas. But, sadly, time goes by, whims change, and now the poor lass is on the game, trying to make ends meet.

“She's old hat now,” says video games expert The Kingmeister. “The last few Tomb Raider games didn't sell too well, although the last one was pretty good. I'd say she's had her day and she'll definitely be selling herself cheap round the back of the off license in her manor these days.

“As it happens, the people behind old Crofty brought out a new game featuring a tough, female antagonist, but it pretty much sank without trace.

“There's not really ‘a new big thing’ out there in terms of geek icons at the moment, as they tend to bring out a new character every 30 seconds.

There are some staple icons that have been round for years though and are still popular, such as Mario or Cloud Strife and Sephiroth. Most of these are still big in the geek world, but don't quite make the crossover into mainstream, like Lara did, which is why she was quite unique. But she's getting on a bit now, so her norks must have gone south as well.”

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09:56

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wobbly boots adj. Uncontrollable alcoholic footwear. To put your wobbly boots on before leaving the pub.

Notes from the Battlefront The Debt to our War Dead

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The Edge 01245 348256

I am offended when I see each window opened making reference to yet another consumer item in the lead up to the biggest orgy of waste and selfishness known to man. I will be at Crisis on Christmas Day, washing pots and pans and serving soup, in a vain attempt to get away from such a commercial horror, and perhaps even get within breathing distance of some humility.

I went to church the other day, as I always do on Remembrance Sunday. To me, this is fundamentally important.

Each year that passes, more so, in fact, as the EEC and PC Nazis erode on a daily basis the freedoms the War Dead fought so hard to by a Fat maintain. This is no trite Capitalist Pig Aphorism. Afghanistan residing inLeafy one might want to Surrey! debate, but World Wars I and II were of critical importance And now a Special to European, and probably, world Yuletide Message of liberty. During the sermon, the appreciation to those vicar referred to those who made kind, resourceful ‘the ultimate sacrifice’ but also to purveyors of ‘service’ the ‘trivial and stupid people’ who . in this country... today routinely receive our attention and adulation. In a Thank you, various Rail Networks, nutshell, ‘celebrities’ famous, in for shortening my life expectancy most cases, for frivolity, extensive by decades, by dint of cancellasubstance abuse and/or revealing tions, overcrowding, terminating unadulterated amounts of flesh. without notice, being fined for failI'm all for fun. In fact, I’m usually ing to have a ticket when both tickfirst in the queue. But a nation et office and automated machine once famous for ‘fair play’ (and, let were unavailable. Thank you too it be said, a superb sense of London Underground (or whatever self-deprecating humour) has expensively derived name you now slipped into a vacuum of trivia and rejoice under). Utterly hopeless.

The days I've wasted waiting in audio visual trash. vain on the Jubilee Line at Waterloo. Thank you. Only one The ‘Christmas escalator operating at Waterloo.

Special’ (?)

Marvellous. Thanks ever so much for the complete absence of any I am old enough to remember useful announcements. Thank you when television was at least too to my local Council for coming moderately entertaining and if one three weeks late to dispose of my were of a mind, instructive. David old ’fridge. Thank you to the variAttenborough is the remaining ous call centres that have survivor of this era. Even those doubled my blood pressure so devoid of the remotest interest in effortlessly and the insurance the animal kingdom could companies that (wait for it) ‘don't unwittingly be rivetted for an hour. do short term car insurance’ - only Today: Big Brother, Celebrity {enter to find their website shows that disqualifying feature, devoid of they do. Thank you. Thank you so irony}, Strictly, and a whole host of much to the finance companies demeaning, voyeuristic offerings, that ring me and then demand that trail blazed by Jerry Springer and I identify myself. And a particularly now made ten times worse by an special thanks to the mobile 'phone assembly of British trailer trash. companies who ring me trying to Who actually watches this junk? sell me tat, address me by my first More to the point, why? name (uninvited) and ask me if I I learn that the internet makes am "orroit innit", or even those debt people read ever fewer books. consolidation companies desperate Surely the current televisual for me to pay 30% for a loan outpouring should have people secured on the future earnings of beating the doors down at my (as yet) unborn grandchildren.

Waterstones? Not so. Instead, we There is a word for this sub culture lap it up. The results of the of gunk: SCUM. This once great X Factor make headline news on nation of ours is now dominated by both main terrestrial channels. transient filth. Complain about the More offensive still (and I am no Investment Bankers if you will. moralistic fanatic), Advent The real problem is the low life Calendars bear no reference whatsales companies preying on the soever to The Nativity. Does anyever increasing poor for instant one know what Advent is? Do they quick fixes. care, or is this offensive too? Well,

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porn mirage n. A tug-hungry adolescent spots some grumble under a hedge that infuriatingly turns out to be an Argos catalogue.

NAME CHANGE & TRADITIONS

As I write this, I've been a married woman now for six whole weeks.

Despite the broken wrist and bouts of tonsillitis, we made it to the ‘Big Day’ with no other problems. We had a fantastic time - the weather just about held off, the food (homemade pie and mash) went down a treat and the drinking and dancing went on all night. It was just so brilliant to be surrounded by all of our friends and family for one whole day.

The next day we left for our honeymoon, to Mauritius, for a much needed and longed for break. This was our first two week holiday in four years, so we'd actually been looking forward to it every bit as much as the wedding. We spent the first few days in a lodge in the rainforest within the mountains to the south of the island. Despite some rain, it was such a beautiful place and great to see some of the real sights. We then moved to the north of the island and stayed in a fabulous hotel - small and friendly and in the style of an old colonial house. Wonderful. Our room lead directly onto the beach - heaven! Everything, including the food, weather, facilities, people and snorkelling, was just perfect. The best day of the trip was when we took a sail Cheryl boat out to a nearby island. Our hotel rented space on the far side of the island which only guests could use, so six of us were treated to a deserted beach and then served a huge BBQ feast by the staff - now that, for a Wednesday in mid-October, certainly takes some beating.

Mauritius doesn't seem to have many English tourists; they have more French visitors who speak the lingo, so we were a little surprised that the other two couples on our boat trip were English and even more staggered to find that one couple hailed from Chelmsford! It seemed totally incredulous to be bobbing away on a small sail boat in the middle of the Indian Ocean and realise that we were sitting with people who virtually live down the road from us.....so here's a ‘special hello’ to Jackie and Colin!

However, it's all back to reality now, with just the one small change: my name. As you can see, I’m no longer a Norton; I'm a Barry now and it's still taking some getting used to. I can imagine I'll be chasing paperwork

The Edge 01245 348256

for the next few months to get everything changed over.

Whilst I feel a bit nostalgic about the fact that there will be no more Norton children in our immediate clan, I was always going to change my name. Several married ladies where I work refused to do it as they said they felt like they'd have been ‘losing their identity’, but my view is that as I've made the commitment to be with someone else for good, then I’m in for a penny, in for a pound! And I'm still me, just with a new name.

Although we didn't get married in a church, The Husband (as I shall now weirdly refer to him) is a bit of a traditionalist and was keen for me to change my name to match his. The night before our wedding, I intended to get a few of us all out for a meal and some drinks, but he was very insistent that we spent it separately, as per tradition. I innocently thought this was so he could spend some quality time with his parents and sisters, but after the wedding, I realised it was actually more to do with the fact that he could sit up into the wee small hours drinking whisky with his best man. He also insisted on carrying me Barry over the threshold of our house for the following day for ‘traditions sake’ and naturally nearly broke his back in the process.

It’s funny though, that whilst some things like my name and complete annihilation of my bank account have changed, other things haven't.

For instance, it took precisely four days of being back in Essex for The Husband to resume his other more usual traditions of watching football at QPR, then another two days before he announced he was going out for ‘a few drinks’ with his work buddies, only to stagger home at midnight.

Hmmmmmm. In a strange way, I suppose it really is quite comforting to learn that nothing much changes at all and that this is precisely what I signed up for!

The Edge is not sure it believes all you say, Cheryl. Say your other half bad been called Dungbottom...would you still have changed your name?

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covered wagon n. To drive your old cow under canvas after a bellyful of beans. A Dutch oven.

Page 19

THE HAPPY WANDERERS

The Chelmer & Blackwater Ramblers group was formed in 1986 and has grown to include over 600 members, writes Leslie Cutbush. We organise 4 walks a week, on Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, which are mainly in the Essex area, but frequently go into neighbouring counties. Usually we travel to walking venues by car, sharing whenever possible. In addition to our walks, we have quite a few social events, i.e. coach trips, quiz nights, weekend holidays and week long holidays. In fact, at this very time, 40 of us are doing the Thames Path Trail which we are completing over ‘an uncertain period’ (in short, when we’ve finished it!). Our Wednesday, Friday and Sunday walks each cover a full day, which is generally between 10-12 miles, including a pub lunch stop (you can either bring your own sandwiches or order food at the pub, the choice is yours) whereas our Saturday rambles are usually half day walks.

We attract a wide range of people from all 'walks' of life (get it?), as well as a variety of ages.

Rambling is simply an activity that anyone can take part in and is the best exercise to keep fit and healthy in both mind, body and soul.

No matter what is going on in your life, the county of Essex (and beyond) and the camaraderie of all of our lovely members is incredibly uplifting and you will no doubt nurture long and lasting friendships with every step you take.

We have discovered people who have taken up walking once they have retired, or have lost their partners, been through divorce, or are simply seeking a new, healthier pastime.

What we say is: ‘get out of the house, remove

yourself from the TV set, get out of your car and simply start walking’ with like minded souls who will soon become friends.

So why not join us and, if you like what you see and experience, you too can become a member.

The Chelmer & Blackwater Group of The Ramblers Association membership fees for twelve months is:Joint: ÂŁ39.50 Single: ÂŁ29.50 For further information, please contact Maureen Cutbush on 01245 344636 or visit our website:www.chelmerandblackwater-ramblers.org.uk So get your walking boots on and start walking!

Leslie got in touch with The Edge after reading about the 40 Plus Cycling Club article featured in the October editions and, y’know, The Edge is always happy to publicise groups such as these because the older you get, the more you need to keep on getting out there

immersing yourself in the spirit of camaraderie. Oh yes you do, Harry ‘H’ Yardbrush!

Are you reading this, you old scrote? Then do something about it cos your son reckons you watch far too much tele these days and spend far too much time on your own!

It’s honestly just a matter of time before I join.

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www.theedgemag.co.uk

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As the last leaves fall from the trees in Hylands Park and Autumn comes to a close, we at the Recycling Team are busy preparing for Christmas, writes Mark Smith (Recycling Promotion Team). Unfortunately, I am losing all faith in Santa Clause as the years pass by, as he hasn't climbed through my window, or down my chimney, in years. So, for me at least, Christmas is a time when I can concentrate on perfecting my karaoke skills, not to mention eating and drinking a little bit more than I usually would.....which obviously creates yet more waste!

Monday 7th December: Good news! Chelmsford Borough Council would like to issue you an early Christmas present by introducing it's Kerbside Mixed Plastic Recycling Collection Scheme. In your new, clear, plastic sacks this year, you can now recycle both your plastic bottles and lids, plastic ready meal and food trays, yogurt pots, plastic carrier bags, cling film, plastic film and much, much more. However, we still can not accept hard plastics or polystyrene, such as toys, video cassettes and polystyrene food trays, but at least you should notice your black bin waste dramatically decrease each month.

Please remember to recycle all of your cans and glass bottles from your Christmas parties and get togethers, as well as all of your wrapping paper and Christmas cards. And if you have received a sexy new cardigan for your wardrobe, then please hand your old one in to a charity shop, or place it in a bag next to your green box on the appropriate collection day.

Christmas Tree Shredding: If you have decided to display a real Christmas tree as the centre-piece in your lounge this year, you will doubtless be pleased to learn that you can recycle it at Hylands Park on Sunday 10th January 2010 between 10.00am and 3.00pm (please use the Writtle Road entrance). Old Christmas trees will be shredded on site and then sent to be composted for use in parks across Chelmsford.

For materials that can not be recycled on the kerbside or flats scheme, such as batteries and electrical equipment, please visit your local Recycling Centre for Household Waste either at Drovers Way, Boreham, or Ferrers Road, South Woodham Ferrers.

The Recycling Team will be out promoting the Love Food Hate Waste campaign by giving our residents some great tips to make the most of your turkey leftovers this year and also to promote recycling this Christmas.

So if you require a new paper sack, want some tips on how to reduce your food bills, or even just some free recycled wrapping paper, please visit us here:

Saturday 5th December Saturday12th December Saturday 19th December

Market Square High Street (outside Debenhams) High Street (outside Debenhams)

THANK YOU! Finally, we would like to thank all of Chelmsford's residents for recycling in 2009. You have helped us achieve a 38% recycling rate which improves our air quality, ensures our children can enjoy natural resources when they grow up, and (more importantly to some) help keep council tax rises to a minimum!

For all information relating to waste prevention and recycling in Chelmsford, please visit www.chelmsford.gov.uk/recycling.

Alternatively, please call 01245 615800.

Mark Smith and Stephen Collins of the Chelmsford Borough Council Recycling Team Photograph by Mark Bellsham

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crackerjacks n. Testicles. “It’s Friday, it’s five-to-five, and I’m off upstairs to whack me crackerjacks.”

Page 21

Childish Photographer The Edge imagines that the bloke who took this photograph probably holds down a reasonable job and a mortgage, yet still needs a good slapping around his bare legs by his mum for never quite growing up.

All the same - and whoever you are, sir - this fanzine salutes you.

What a fantastic row of cocks. The shape of the bell-end is perfection personified, whilst the testicles....sacre bleu.

The Edge truly thinks that spotting something like this (and let’s face it, an awful lot of people wouldn’t have) can honestly make your day (as Clint would say), or at the very least brighten your mood.

I can almost hear the architect of the bridge now, way back in the early nineteenth century (or whenever), musing to his financiers, “And as well as easing traffic flow, when the sun shines, this expansion will cast an impressive row of cocks onto the pavement.”

Stuff like this is top quality schoolboy humour for adults (wasted on anyone below “SEVEN!” as Len Goodman might say). Oh yes, The Edge can just imagine two exceedingly high paid blokes in the City walking across this bridge for lunch, talking about stocks and shares and pork bellies and such like, when all of a sudden, one of them stops the other and says, “’Ere, Tod, look how the sunlight’s creating a row of knobs across the pavement?”

Then they both start nudging each other and tittering.

www.theedgemag.co.uk

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cricket week n. A five day test, when a gentleman must bowl from the pavilion end whilst his missus is padded up.

YOUR letters

&

e-m@ils

ing anonymous.

This email, received 1st November, was in response to The Edge’s February 2009 edition after your editor had returned from a fortnight’s stint in Thailand and was asking some pertinent questions about English blokes who visit the Far East on the lookout for Thai brides (singular) to bring back home to roost.

I am again very much looking forward to going back out there in January 2010 - with the good lady wife once again, I hasten to add.

However, what the author of this email has suggested really is quite alarming, as I have always found the hospitality of the Thais to be (I thought) most sincere, tho’ you suggest otherwise, sir.

Would any other readers be willing to go on record as to their Thai experiences in The Edge, albeit anonymously?

E.E.

to theedge! shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

The Edge 01245 348256

hard, but honestly...

Made me laugh, so thought I'd share.

All the best, Pip Holden, Chelmsford.

P.S. I absolutely LOVE your magazine! I read it every month and like to keep copies so I can look back on them. Truly brilliant. Keep up the good work.

Well, that is bloody nice of you, Pip! D’you know what though?

People do use the ‘L’ word when describing their feelings for The Edge and I feel that’s a far greater achievement than any actual award/gong that The Edge has never won to date (hint, hint). E.E.

Except Buses Hi, With respect to Dave Monk on BBC Essex, my caption would be: ‘I don’t

2010

CHELMSFORD, CM2 6XD. Dear Shaun, Very delayed reaction to your February 2009 issues with reference to Thailand.

Basically, I’d like to put out a severe warning - keep Thai girls in Thailand in the bars, where they belong!

Alas, a friend of mine is married to a Thai woman (whom he actually met in the UK and who appeared to be very respectable, or so he thought).

After spending some years together, which included the squandering of literally thousands of pounds of his money, poor chap, she decided to cash in her chips.

Apart from a couple of older ladies (over 55), every Thai woman I have ever come across in Chelmsford is no longer with the partner they arrived in the UK with, or met in the UK. Furthermore, those currently still with their husbands are almost without exception ‘playing away from home’ or causing much grief.

For further reading, I urge your readers to check out the brilliant online novel Private Dancer by Stephen Leather, which is about love, betrayal and death in Thailand. Obviously it is exaggerated, but it does tell certain truths e.g. that despite all appearances to the contrary, by and large, Thai ladies absolutely despise falangs (whites) and view them as little more than walking ATMs. Apologies, but due to the circumstances, I must insist upon remain-

Minister Quits Dear Edge, I know you don’t get outside Chelmsford much, so doubtless you

haven’t seen the way the London Evening Standard goes about promoting itself to potential readers?

John Savage.

Many thanks for that, John. Yes, The Edge could certainly learn a thing or two from them, sir. E.E.

***

Thai Update

most worthy cause.

David Mansfield.

Dig deep, readers, dig deep. E.E.

Fitting Tribute Remembrance Sunday may have come and gone for another year, but the feats of those who gave their lives so that we may enjoy our own must never be forgotten.

Galleywood is one of the few villages in Britain that does not have a permanent memorial to honour their memory. Therefore, an appeal has been launched to rectify this and has already met with an excellent response, although it is still some £2,000 short of its £10,000 target. It is hoped that such a shortfall can be met very soon so that work may begin in early Spring 2010 to build a fitting memorial with the names of the 32 on the Roll of Honour from both World Wars.

Wendy Cummin is the local resident who has given much of her time and commitment to ensure that a fitting service may be held in November 2010.

Planning permission has been obtained for the site in front of The Keene Hall (Galleywood) which was kindly gifted by Mrs Lavinia Keene, who also incredibly paid for a Mk1 Spitfire during the war. But wouldn’t it be wonderful if the current generation could be prompted into contributing so that the deeds of another generation are not forgotten?

Details of the appeal can be found on www.galleywoodfolk.com whilst cheques are to be made payable to the Galleywood War Memorial Fund.

Many thanks in anticipation of this

Dear Edge, I'm really concerned. Three years ago it was the Chinese year of the cow, and lo and behold, we had Mad Cow Disease. Two years ago it was the year of the bird, and we had Avian Flu. Meanwhile, this past year was the year of the pig, and guess what, Swine Flu. By the way, next year it’s the year of the cock.

Anyone else worried?

Alan Fisher.

My cock has actually been using a Vicks inhaler since midOctober, sir.

E.E.

Wholesale Tea Do you wholesale your tea? The grocers, specialty food stores, gift shops and large chains we work with are aggressively looking for more tea to purchase this coming festive holiday season. We need a larger variety of products they can choose from, hence my email to you. If you want to make a push and you're interested in selling into more stores, now's the time to visit us at www.intostores.com/sellers.php Yours sincerely, Kevin Sanderson VP Merchandising 866-788-5799 (ext 3) Fancy a brew, readers?

E.E.

know....you tell me?”

Cheers!

Clifford Edwards Chelmsford.

Hmmmm, this is a bit of an obscure one that might need a little explaining. You see, readers, over at the Rivermead Campus, two signs read ‘Except Buses’, but I think what Clifford’s driving at is how would you get anything wider than a bicycle through the concrete bollards that now block the way?

E.E.

3D Specs Dear Edge, To get into the Christmas spirit, why don’t your readers go see the animated version of A Christmas Carol at the Chelmsford Odeon in 3D?

Brilliant Hi Shaun, Thought you would appreciate this photo I took while I was in Bristol visiting the Banksy vs Bristol Museum exhibition earlier this year.

I knew the credit crunch was hitting

Regards, The Edge Ed. Good suggestion, Edge bloke, even if I/you do say so yourself!

Mind you, it’s a bit on the scary side for kids in certain places, we thought, so do beware.

E.E.

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double the melt v. To give a lady not one, but two portions of hot cheese in her hamburger.

Page 23

FASHION FAUX PAS

“Ooooh, I know his face, but I just can’t place him!”

And nor could The Edge, until it got onto t’trusty t’internet.

If you walk into, or should The Edge say up to (above W.H. Smith - for God’s sake, what’s it doing up there?) our main Chelmsford Post Office, you’ll inevitably have to stand in a queue and catch a cold from all of the germs in the heat, but this bloke, John Henshaw (he’s got six brothers and five sisters, tha’knows) will be on a TV screen facing you, helping to promote some of the services the Royal Mail has to offer.

Only he doesn’t work, as such, for the Royal Mail, despite the fact that they’re paying him. No, John’s an actor; he’s only pretending to work for the Post Office, missus.

Oh, but what an actor.

You know how you just take a shine to some folk? Well, The Edge has always loved (strong word) John Henshaw, particularly as Ken, the landlord of The Grapes pub in Manchester in the two and only series of Early Doors (bugger, and didn’t it take me an age to find out about John on t’internet, due to the fact that I was typing in Closing Time and Last Orders, thinking that Early Doors had really been called either of those. What’s more, I didn’t even know John Henshaw was called John Henshaw - The Edge simply knew him as ‘the landlord of that pub in that series’ - and as good as t’internet is, it really couldn’t help me with that as my one and only reference point).

Anyway, I eventually found him via The Royle Family website, because I remembered that Craig Cash had also appeared in ‘whatever that series was called that only happened to last for two series set in a pub up north’ (circa. 2003-04).

Do any of you good readers happen to remember it with affection too?

Y’see, to me, John Henshaw is one of those blokes who doesn’t have to utter a single word to be funny - he just is - and I adore people like that.

Some of you might remember him playing the role of John Prescott in Confessions of a Diary Secretary (about Prescott’s affair with his secretary, the dirty fat bastard).

And get this: John Henshaw only became an actor at the age of 40 (he’s 58 now) after 10 years working as a - wait for it refuse collector.

How about that?

People watching is great, isn’t it?

Come on, we all love to do it, don’t we?

Well, your editor was at Bluewater recently (during the kid’s half-term: awful, never again, cars queueing even before the bridge at 10.30am, what’s all that about?) and, as ever, my first port-of-call was Pret a Manger where I bought this lovely French stick type thing, filled with cheese, sundried tomatoes and salad. Wonderful.

Anyway, the wife’s first port-of-call is always Mango, just around the corner from Pret. So I caught her up in there, farting with every step I took (store-clearers I call ’em - honestly, Pret always gives me horrendous wind for a good half-an-hour after I’ve eaten any wheat product from there), and that was when I first clocked this geezer.

He must have been between 50-55.

His wife was also shopping in Mango and was a bit of a sour-faced old moose, heavier-set than him, whereas ‘our man’ probably thought of himself as, I dunno, dapper.

I had them down to live on an estate with a couple of kids that had already flown the nest.

Her hair had been tongue’n’grooved whilst his had once been black, but was now flecked with grey, thinning at the crown.

Get this though: he was wearing a white T-shirt with a woollen sleeveless jumper over the top, a pair of fadedish jeans (whereas gentlemen of a certain age should almost certainly stick to dark denim), a pair of white trainers (oh, please) and the piece de resistance, a f***ing black sweatband around his right wrist.

Jesus wept!

I seriously felt like going up to him and asking him what the f*** he thought he was playing at?

Then he turned around and I also clocked a cheap set of beads on a leather thong dangling around his neck (circa: £3.99 tops) and he must seriously have thought he looked the absolute bollocks.

Er, not quite, matey.

Pray, can anyone explain to The Edge what would possess a middleaged man to dress like that (i.e. like a right twat/bell-end)?

Teenagers dress like that.

The sweatband was just hysterical because, although he was reasonably trim, I could tell he’d never played a days sport in his life, save for possibly a spot of mixed-doubles at badminton on holiday on the beach in his inevitable Speedos.

But you do have to be ever so careful. It’s like, I can still spot a decent, but garish, T-shirt, only before I’ve said so much as, “Do you reckon I could still get away with this?” to the good lady wife, she’ll already have given me that, ‘Who do you think you still are?’ look of hers.

Which always hurts.

O

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French safe n. A secure box that can be cracked open by fiddling with a little button at the top.

ONLY JOKING! Great Cook

A doctor examining a woman who had been rushed to the Emergency Room took the husband to one side and said, “I must warn you, I really don't like the look of your wife at all.”

The husband braced himself and said through clenched teeth and with a stiff upper lip, “If truth be told, doc, me neither. But hey, she's a great cook and she’s really great with the kids.”

Molly A new Army Captain was assigned to an outfit in a remote post in the Afghan desert. During his first inspection of the outfit, he noticed a camel hitched up behind the mess tent. He asked the Sergeant why the camel was kept there. The nervous Sergeant said, "Sir, as you know, there are 250 men here on the post and no women.

Sometimes the men have urges. That's why we have Molly, the camel."

The Captain said, "I can't say that I condone this, Sergeant, but I can understand about the men’s urges, so the camel can stay."

About a month later, the Captain started having a few 'urges' of his own. Crazed with passion, he asked the Sergeant to bring Molly to his tent.

Then the Captain put a ladder up behind her, stood on the fifth rung, unzipped his flies and had wild and insane animal sex with the camel.

As the Sergeant led Molly away with the Captain totally spent, he said, “Usually the men just ride Molly into town. There are girls there, sir."

Clap & Bolt The graveside service had barely finished when there was a massive clap of thunder, followed by a tremendous bolt of lightning, accompanied by even more thunder rumbling in the distance.

A little old man looked up at the pastor and said, "She's arrived then."

Murder of Juan Gonzalez Two Mexican detectives were investigating the murder of Juan Gonzalez.

“How was he killed?” asked the first detective.

“With a golf gun,” the second detective replied.

“A golf gun!” said the first. “What’s a golf gun?”

“Dunno,” said the first, but it sure made a hole in Juan.”

Mirage A fleeing Taliban, desperate for water, was plodding through the Afghanistan desert when he caught a shape far off in the distance and thought it must be a mirage.

Nevertheless, desperate to find water, he hurried towards it, only to find a little old Jewish man at a small stall selling ties.

The Taliban asked, "Do you have any water?"

The little old Jewish man replied, "No. But I have ties, see. Would you like to buy a tie? They are only $5."

The Taliban shouted, "Idiot! I do not need an overpriced tie. I need water! I should kill you, but I must find water first."

“OK, OK,” said the little old Jewish man, "it does not matter that you do not want to buy a tie and that you hate me. I will show you that I am bigger than that by helping you. If you continue over that hill to the east for about five kilometres, you will find a lovely restaurant. It has all the nice ice cold water that you could ever want. Shalom."

Muttering beneath his breath, the Taliban staggered on over the hill.

Several hours later he staggered back.

"Your f cking brother won't let me in without a * tie."

Twelve Again A man was sitting on the edge of his bed, observing his wife looking at herself in the mirror.

Since her birthday was not far off, he asked her what she'd like as an ideal birthday present.

“Oh, I'd love to be twelve again,” she replied, still looking in the mirror and holding her tummy in.

So, on the morning of her birthday, he arose early, made her a nice big bowl of Coco Pops and then took her to Alton Towers.

What a day!

He put her on every ride in the park; the Death Slide, Corkscrew, Wall of Fear, Screaming Monster Roller Coaster, everything.

Five hours later he had to prop her up as she staggered back to the car.

Then he took her to a McDonald's where he ordered her a Happy Meal with extra fries and a chocolate shake. Then straight after that it was off to the cinema with popcorn, a huge Cola, and her favourite sweets, M&M's.

What a fabulous day!

Eventually she wobbled up the garden path with her husband supporting her before she collapsed onto the bed, totally exhausted.

He leaned over his wife with a big smile and lovingly asked, “Well dear, what was it like being twelve again?”

Her eyes slowly opened and her expression immediately changed.

“I meant my dress size, you retard!”

Lions Will Eat Anything A bloke starts his new job at the zoo and is given three tasks. The first is to clear the exotic fish pool of weeds. As he is doing so, a huge fish bites him on the ass. To show it who is boss, he beats it to death with his spade. Then, realising his employer won't be best pleased, he disposes of the fish by feeding it to the lions, because lions will eat anything.

Moving on to the second job of clearing out the Chimpanzee House, they gang up and attack their new keeper and pelt him with their own faeces. So the new bloke takes a swipe at a couple of chimps and manages to kill them both with his spade. But where to dispose of their bodies? Ah, feed them to the lions, he thinks, because lions will eat anything. So he hurls the two corpses into the lion enclosure and sets about task number three, which is to collect honey from the South American bees.

Well, as soon as he gets in there, the angry bees start attacking him, so he grabs his trusty spade and smashes a whole load of bees to a pulp. And then he throws the bee mush into the lions cage as well, because lions will eat anything.

Next day, a new lion arrives at the zoo. It wanders over to another lion and says (and for the purposes of this joke, lions can talk, alright?)

"Say, what's the food like here?"

The lion replies: "Oh, it’s absolutely top notch.

Yesterday we had fish, chimps and mushy bees, so it’s anyone’s guess what’ll be on the menu today.”

Blonde in a Hailstorm A blonde was driving home and got caught in a really bad hailstorm. Next morning, she noticed that her car was covered with tiny dents, so she took it to her friendly repair shop.

The owner took one look at the car and decided to have some fun. So he told the blonde to go home and blow into the exhaust pipe really hard until all the dents had popped out.

So the blonde drives home and does exactly as she’s been told, only nothing happens.

Meanwhile, her blonde roommate has been observing her efforts and shouts, “Say, what do you think you’re doing?”

So the first blonde relates the story of the hailstones and the guy at the repair shop and her blonde roommate rolls her eyes and says, “Uhoh. Like, hello! You need to close all the windows first.”

I-pod Clanger I was in the pub yesterday when I suddenly realised I desperately needed to fart.

As the music was really loud, I decided to time my farts to the beat.

After a couple of songs, I started to feel better.

But when I’d finished my pint, I noticed that everyone in my local vicinity was staring at me. It was only then that I realised that the pub was silent and I’d been listening to my I-pod. (shit joke)

Blonde Purchase A blonde was shopping at Macro and came across a shiny silver Thermos. She was quite fascinated by it, so took it to the checkout to ask what it was.

The cashier said, 'Why, it's a thermos, madam.”

The blonde looked puzzled and said, “What’s one of those?”

So the cashier said, “Well, it keeps hot things hot and cold things cold.”

“Wow!” said the blonde. “That's amazing! I’m having me one of those.”

So the next day at her blonde job, she proudly showed it off on her desk.”

“Wow!” says a blonde colleague, “what you got there?”

“It’s a thermos,” answers the blonde. “It keeps hot things hot and cold things cold.”

“Amazing!” says the blonde co-worker. “What you got inside it?”

The blonde replies, “Two lemon popsicles and some strong black coffee.”

Two Blondes With Hammers Lynn and Julie are doing some carpentry work on a ‘Habitat for Humanity’ house as they are caring souls. Lynn is busy nailing down some house siding when she reaches into her nail pouch, pulls out a nail, then tosses it over her shoulder where it lands with a whole pile of other nails.

Julie, figuring out that this has got to be worth looking into, asks her what does she think she is doing, throwing all of those perfectly good nails away?

Lynn explains, “When I pull nails out of my pouch, about half of them have the head on the wrong end, so I throw them away.”

Julie yells, “You complete dummy! Those nails aren't defective. They're for using on the other side of the house!”

APOLOGY: The Edge would like to take this opportunity to say that it is sorry to all blondes - the good lady wife included - for targeting such easy prey. Nope, it’s definitely not fair against blondes, but the joke simply doesn’t work so well if you say brunettes or redheads.

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

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Johnny Cash n. ...and his burning ring of fire.

Christmas Eve @ Smiths Bar Join us for an evening with top vocalist

Nina Ambrose

Page 25

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tarmac round the garage sim. Slightly grubby path to the back door, making rear entry a most unpleasant prospect.

Hundreds of associated offices for the price of one!

There’s some good news for everyone selling property in the Chelmsford area as The Home Partnership have recently joined Homelink, the UKs largest network of professional estate agents.

This means that The Home Partnership's customers will have the benefit of several hundred linked offices all working to help sell their home for the price of just one!

Scott Mason, a Director of The Home Partnership, explains, "Joining Homelink makes great sense for our customers and for us as a business. Homelink works by helping agents like ourselves find more buyers for our customers' homes more quickly, thereby generating better quality offers. There were a number of property referral networks to choose from, but we chose Homelink because it is different in several key areas. One of the unique differences is that no business is allowed to join unless they are members of the NAEA (National Association of Estate Agents), entrance to which is by qualification only.

Homelink is the only referral network in the Scott Mason - Director

www.theedgemag.co.uk

UK that sets such high entry standards. This means that everyone in the network is required to work within strict principles, which is vitally important when dealing with the selling of someone's home, their biggest asset. “Homelink has also invested in the latest secure referral system and website which allows suitable buyers from across the world to be matched instantly with our customers' properties. Also of vital importance to us is Homelink's commitment to ongoing training and support of our business which will ensure that we are able to offer higher standards and achieve far greater results."

Chairman of Homelink and current Vice President of the NAEA, Chris Wood, says, "I am delighted to welcome The Home Partnership as part of our growing network of professional estate agents. They are joining hundreds of like minded professional agents across the UK who are successfully using Homelink to sell more property, more efficiently, and at better prices under the umbrella of the NAEA, the most respected name in property professionalism in the UK market today.�

If you are thinking of selling your home, a Homelink agent, such as The Home Partnership, will offer you the professionalism and peace of mind that you are undoubtedly seeking.

Workplace Dangers

The Estate Agent that works ...for YOU!

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roundhead n. A pink Darth Vader after the surgical removal of his Kojak’s rollneck.

TV GOLD - CROSSROADS

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

And The Crossroads Motel was pretty much indestructible since its inception in November 1964 (but then didn’t it burn down once? Who knows?

Who cares?). Well, apparently, an awful lot of folk, because Crossroads had a helluva fanbase during its heyday and even after, when it belatedly received cult status - yes, that said cult - thanks to its lack of resources, debatable acting skills, wobbly sets, left-in mistakes, all infamously parodied by genuine true-life fan Victoria Wood in her spoof spin-off Acorn Antiques.

Sandy ‘Joe 90’ Richarson, Benny the twat, David Hunter, Jill Richardson, Meg Richardson.

Set in a fictitious Midlands motel...The Edge can even hear the opening bars of the theme tune and sincerely hopes that many of you good readers are humming along too, as you read this right riveting piece and wash the pots (or whatever).

You do realise that Crossroads was the UK’s first genuine soap though, don’t you? Christ, it took Coronation Street until 1997 to equal the number of episodes Crossroads had already put out - and

every one a pure blinder, it has to be said.

Didn’t Sandy Richardson end up in a wheelchair because they invented a storyline about him being struck down by something (lightning?) or other, only to belatedly discover that no-one had ever recovered the use of their limbs after contracting such, so that was that - he ended up being ATV’s answer to Chief Inspector Frank bloody Ironside.

And what about the lovely, the delectable, Miss Diane (your editor actually quite fancied her, as it happens). She joined the cast in 1966 as a mere waitress, but ended up staying for 21 years until they killed her off with a brain haemorrhage in 1987. A distraught Benny, in tribute, named a donkey after her.

Hey, and what about Amy Turtle (cleaner) and Shaughie McFee (chef) - does anyone remember them?

Oh sure, you can mock Crossroads all you like, but The Edge will have you know that they produced a total of 4,510 episodes and tackled the likes of bigamy, alcoholism, gambling, sexual harassment, rape, adoption, abortion, suicide, murder, blackmail, homelessness, abduction and terrorism way before the sperm that spawned EastEnders had ever been ejaculated.

And what about when ATV decided to dispense with the services of motel owner Meg Richardson (played by ginga actress Noele Gordon, daughter of Gotham City’s Commissioner), why, there was public outrage (remember readers, 15m viewers had tuned-in to see her wedding). Christ, even the chairman of the channel, Lord Grade himself, unsuccessfully tried to intervene.

So, this has been The Edge’s own tribute to Crossroads....and not before bloody time either.

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Page 27

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The Edge 01245 348256

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09:44

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EDGE DVD REVIEW

If you were intrigued by Brian Clough and you haven’t already, then The Edge urges you to read David Peace’s excellent novel, and to watch the DVD of the very same name, The Damned United.

It’s about Cloughie’s ill-fated 44-day reign as manager of Leeds United, a club he absolutely loathed and despised because of the way they “cheated”.

The book is, quite simply, the best sporting novel I have ever read and I was dreading the fact that a film was even being made at all, because, come on, who could ever play Brian Clough?

As good as Martin Sheen is - and he is bloody good - this is still not the Brian Clough I remember, to The Edge’s mind this country’s greatest ever football team manager. Better than Shankley. Better than Ferguson too.

In all my years of following football, I have never seen anything more exhilarating, more exciting, more predatory, more gung-ho, more chivalrous than the way Cloughie’s Nottingham Forest (who?) set out conquering the mighty Liverpool - and make no mistake, for Liverpool truly were mighty in the early eighties in particular. And by comparison to the way Manchester United eventually eclipsed the scousers dominance by the early nineties, Cloughie’s Forest did it so damn quick.

But The Damned United is about a period way before any of that ‘history making’ and it was a truly fascinating month-and-a-half period. Agonisingly fascinating, in fact.

I remember a cartoon that appeared in a newspaper on the day Brian Clough took over at Elland Road. Some bloke’s up a ladder in a set of white overalls and he’s already removed the word Leeds on the exterior of the stadium, so that it now reads Clough United. Brian marches past and shouts, “That’ll do for starters.”

God, if ever ‘oil met water’. Clough’s tenure in Yorkshire was just that. It was a proper tinderbox waiting to go off.

He hated Leeds, and so far as the Leeds United players of that time were concerned (Billy Bremner, Johnny Giles, Peter Lorimer, Norman Hunter), they hated Cloughie too, such acrimony stemming from his frequent public chastisings of former manager, the legend that was Don ‘The Don’ Revie, a manager who even used to massage his own players bare arses with soap suds in the interests of ‘team bonding’.

Cloughie, on the other hand, was the arrogant, opinionated upstart who’d actually been sacked by Derby County, a team of provincial nobodies whom he’d fashioned into the champions of England.

More to the point, he did it not once, but twice, for you surely couldn’t get more unfashionable than Derby County and Nottingham Forest. Which is why, in The Edge’s view, Brian Clough is the greatest UK manager of all time.

Indeed, it is a true sporting tragedy that he never took charge of the England national side.

So do watch this DVD. But if you only read one sporting book in 2010, make certain it is The Damned United.

THE BOAT THAT DIDN’T ROCK, ACTUALLY.

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Talk about disappointed - yeah, even despite the big build up, Tony!

Y’see readers, Tony’s the manager of our very own Blockbuster store and we have a bit of a chinwag about movies (obviously) every time I pop in, which is far more frequently now as it’s pitch bloody black by five o’clock. Anyway, I’d been so looking forward to seeing this flick and Tony told me, “You’ll love it. I’d recommend it to anyone.”

Well, Mrs Edge liked it... However, for me, it was a huge, huge disappointment. I’ve come to expect so much more from Richard Love Actually, Notting Hill Curtis. But this was almost like a film too far for the ultra-polite, rose-tinted spectacled fella, despite the fact that there’s still no-one like him for making you feel ‘all emotional like’ just before the final curtain sweeps down.

Curtis is clearly paying homage to Radio Caroline, that much is certain, the original pirate radio ship that illegally broadcast the burgeoning beats to our shores during the early swinging sixties.

That said, The Edge really couldn’t put it any better than James Christopher of The Times when he lamented, “The rom-com glue that has turned every other Curtis movie into box office gold is totally absent in this one. The Boat That Rocked is a listless, sketchy mess.”

Bang-on Christopher, baby! And is there anything worse than being let down - yes, let down - by a movie you’d had oh such high expectations of?

Yes, boy. You at the back?

“Being captured by the Taliban, sir?”

Alright, apart from being captured by the Taliban?

But you take The Edge’s point.

Despite an impressive cast of Bill Nighy (don’t you just love him?), Philip Seymour Hoffman, Rhys Ifans, Nick Frost and Kenneth Branagh.....I mean, how do you f *** a film up with guys such as these at your disposal?

Basically, because the plot is so terribly weak that you’re simply left desperately hoping that one of the cast will either do something of say something that’s just funny, but Jack Davenport being called Twatt, Whitehall Cabinet Minister Keneth Branagh’s sidekick, is about as good as it gets.

God, Curtis really has messed this one up BIG TIME and as Brian Clough would say, “You want bloody shooting for missing from there.”

Trouble is, it doesn’t take a genius, or a parochial pamphlet editor for that matter, to see that the gags really should have been lining themselves up, one after the other, just waiting to be cracked.

The Boat That Rocked could have been a seriously, seriously funny film - one of the funniest of all time (surely to rival the impact Airplane made when it was first released).

Verdict: OH DEAR! All DVDs hired from BLOCKBUSTER in Springfield Road, Chelmsford.

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erection section n. Top shelf of a newsagents.

Scoobie-scoobie-doooo!

How coincidental is this?

A 14 year old boy is watching kid’s cartoons on the gogglebox, waiting for the woman he’s just hired (out of the Yellow Pages) to come out of the bathroom (obviously during half-term whilst his parents are both at work), the door slowly opens wide and waddayaknow, Shaggie and Scoobie are pretty impressed too!

Ahhh, kids have got it all these days....whereas when The Edge was a 14 year old nipper, there’d be definitely no ordering of prostitutes and shenanigans such as that.

Oh no. Our simple pleasures were confined to the footie pitch and our bicycles, plus perhaps the odd sip out of a bottle of Woodpecker cider in the park sheds, followed by maybe a drag or two on a Park Drive (or were they called Park Lane....I can’t rightly remember now, it’s so long ago)?

Jesus wept, where have the past 35 years gone?

It is proper scary, I tell thee.

One minute you haven’t got a care in the world, whilst the next, it sometimes feels totally the opposite.

Christ, I’ll be bloody fifty in 545 days time!

How clever do you have to be to create such a glorious cartoon as this one?

It’s wonderful, don’t you think?

Stupid, but totally wonderful.

And y’never know, it could happen... couldn’t it?

Where has The Edge heard that cows can now be milked automatically?

So if they can ‘milk themselves’, as it were, then surely the day will come when they’ll be able to feed themselves too?

And what if cows really stand upright, on their hind quarters, and only drop down onto all fours whenever humans are about....have you ever considered that?

NUDIST CAMP GYM

Gym’s always insist, in the interests of hygiene, that members take a towel in with them whilst working-out in order to wipe down the equipment after use.

Well, you’d certainly want to make sure that these guys had all brought their towels along with them to this particular session, wouldn’t you?

And all credit to the bloke on the bike....he brought two!

(Hey, and doesn’t the fella on the left look like Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise?)

It must be great going on holiday to a Nudist Camp because you can pack ever so lightly.

Thank God we’re off to Thailand for a fortnight at the end of January 2010 (for some sunshine) and for once our intention really is to pack minimally and simply buy a few lightweight tops from Bangkok’s amazing Sunday Market (have any of you ever been?) and simply throw them away at the end of our trip....which’ll also save the wife on washing and ironing too!

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Page 30 This month I have mainly been slowly retreating from modern life and the globalinformationsuperhighwayvillageinterweb thingy, and loving every minute of it. Last month, I wrote about stress and the myriad ways in which our modern lives in general contribute to us all being a bit stressed out all of the time.

My plan was to cut out as much of this as I possibly could (barring work) and distance myself from the multi-tasking modern way of life to see if it really did destress me a little bit, or if the very act of going cold turkey from mobile ’phones and the internet actually stressed me out even more.

To be honest, most people (myself included) thought that I'd last all of a week and then be back online and scouring the news feeds for something else to get riled about....or scouring Google for pictures of kickboxing midgets and tits etc.

Surprisingly enough, I didn't miss it at all. What’s more, I've got no intention of going back to it either. I even went so far as to keep away from newspapers as well, and I've only picked up snippets of what's been going on in the world by overhearing people at work talking about it. I've come to the conclusion that ignorance really is bliss after all.

My usual evenings would have been spent trawling through various news sites and discussion forums, sorting out problems and arranging events with the 50 or so people across Europe in my gaming guild, and generally being glued to a computer screen, poking my nose into the world's affairs, and then getting all worked up about the latest idiocies and atrocities being perpetrated.

My ’phone went onto silent mode as soon as I walked through the front door and got slung onto the sideboard and left there for the duration of the evening, with any calls and texts being resolutely ignored until the following morning when I went to work.

The lack of ’phone communication was actually something that slightly stressed me out at first, as I quite often had a number of texts from people that took me a couple of days to get around to answering. In short, I was worried that I might appear rude and that people would think I was ignoring them (which I guess I was).

But I soon came to realise that the worst ‘offenders’ were the people that I'd already told I'd be incommunicado during the evenings, so I reasoned that if they were too lazy to read my original email, or too forgetful to remember it, then they could bugger off anyway.

www.theedgemag.co.uk

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Muscle Mary n. An extremely well-built ginger beer.

THIS MONTH I HAVE MAINLY BEEN...

I think we're all guilty of sending someone a text and then wondering why they haven't replied to it half-anhour later. After all, they must have their ’phone on them all the time, so they must have read it as soon as it came through?

Consequently, they must be just ignoring me, and how bloody rude is that?

card details were stolen online and some unscrupulous swine tried to steal all my money.

Obviously this should have caused me a fair bit of stress, but it honestly didn't. Firstly, my bank were superb and caught the fraud before it had even started, so I didn't lose a bean. Secondly, the writes Kingpin cancellation of all my cards and online access meant I had to pop into the bank to get some Expecting everyone to be accessible money out, rather than the hole-inall of the time is, to use a scientific the-wall. term, bollocks. We all need peace and quiet and time to ourselves, even time away from our partners, family and closest friends.

Indeed, perhaps time on our own, away from those closest to us, is potentially the most important time alone we can achieve?

During the course of my experiment, my evenings definitely took on a much more relaxed tone and I spent them either reading or catching up on my vast collection of DVD box sets that I never seem to have time to watch.

I also made sure that I worked out at least every other day, ate reasonably healthily, and carried out both my breathing and relaxation exercises.

These exercises are something that I will definitely be keeping up as they only take about 5-10 minutes. I've found that after a few repetitions they really have made a difference.

Breathing exercises are something that I used to do quite regularly when I was a student of martial arts, but once I‘d packed it up. I fell out of the habit of doing them. I'm really glad I've got back into it now though.

My favourite has to be the total body relaxation techniques though and I would recommend them to everybody.

All you need is somewhere comfy to lie or sit and five minutes of delicious peace and quiet.

If anyone would seriously like to find out more about these exercises, just email me and I'll be only too happy to give you some info about them in a little more detail: thekingpin@hotmail.co.uk.

During my low-tech-low-stress month, I also had a curious stroke of luck - if you can call it that - when my debit

At first this was a bit of a pain, but I soon got to enjoy seeing the lads and lasses behind the counter and having a quick chat with them about what we’d all been doing over the weekend etc.

It really did make a nice change having more face-to-face contact with the people who look after my money and only added to their superlative response in dealing with my potential online fraud. It’s certainly made me feel a awful lot more comfortable about my dosh being in really safe hands.

My month of no internet access has also made me realise what an absolute pile of shite things like Facebook and Twitter really are.

Buddha only knows how much time I spent going through messages sent by twats I haven't seen in the flesh for a decade or so, and thinking that somehow it actually mattered.

Facebook can go and take a big old chug on my fat-one now and I definitely won't be using it anymore.

Anyone I actually want to speak to, I'll meet them or call them and speak to them personally. Why the bloody hell do we think we need to know that some bell-end we went to school with got a good score on Mafia Wars or some other useless, time wasting bollocks? Posted some good photos of the last time you went out on the piss?

Well, good for you. But frankly, I couldn't give a shit, so you may as well keep it to yourself.

Twitter can f ck right off as well. If that * isn't a program designed to give people an undeserved Messiah complex, then I don't know what is. Do you use it? Are you really pleased with yourself that you've got lots of ‘followers’

who eagerly devour your every ‘tweet’? You do? Then you're a twat.

Take your head out of your arse and stop pretending that people really want to know that you're out shopping or cleaning your cupboards. Unless you're a celebrity, you've got no business clogging up everyone's bandwidth with your paltry, pedestrian ramblings.

As I mentioned before, I'm a disgusting news junkie, and while I've certainly been a lot happier ignoring all of the nasty, stupid things people are doing to each other throughout the world, I'll still be getting back into the news and current affairs slowly, but surely.

I know it will start winding me up again, but I also believe that people have a duty to know what's going on in the world, and not just bury their heads in the sand. I also believe that people who don't take the time to educate themselves on the state of the world around them are idiots, and I certainly don't want to get lumped into that category.

Oh, and if you believe that reading ‘Hello’ and/or ‘OK!’ magazines constitutes news, then please try the following stress relieving breathing exercise: 1: Stop 2: Die All in all, I have to say my experiment was a resounding success and I'm really glad I went cold turkey from the 24/7 all access lifestyle that most of us lead. It's made me realise just how much of this shit we think we need, when really, we don't.

Try if for yourself and see if it makes a difference, only be a bit more selfish and make sure you take some timeout for yourself away from everyone and enjoy doing that which you really want to do.

Bin 90% of your 200 odd Facebook ‘friends’ and just talk to the people that really matter to you. Like I've said before, the world is a cold, uncaring and unforgiving place, and it's only your closest friends and family that really give a shit about you. The other 6 odd billion scuttling around the planet like rats couldn't honestly give a toss whether you lived or died, so why not make sure you devote a bit more of your time and effort to that small, important group of people, rather than your ‘followers’ on Twitter (you egotistical tools)?

Most importantly, devote a bit more time to yourself and work out what you want from life and how you want to live your life, because no-one else is going to do it for you.

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audition the finger puppets v. A single act, not suitable for children.

The True Meaning of Christmas Commercialisation devalues the true meaning of Christmas, doesn't it?

Well, no, it doesn't.

Christianity devalues the true meaning of 25th December - the festival of Sol Invictus or Mithras This pagan festival, dating from 600 BC, was hijacked by Christians; as all ecclesiastical scholars know only too well. Ask your priest or bishop, they'll confirm it. Well, no; they probably won't. After all, it's their job to perpetuate this deception.

The pagan festival of the sun god was celebrated 600 years before the alleged birth of Jesus, with ‘raucous celebrations, gluttonous eating and gift giving’.

So, I invite you all to party like a drunken chav, eat until you vomit, give each other expensive gifts, and worship the sun god on his birthday, not Jesus.

M&S The Advertising Standards Authority is looking into eight complaints from viewers about the M&S Christmas TV ad, which features actor Philip Glenister as his character DCI Gene Hunt, the '80s police character from hit TV series Ashes to Ashes.

The line causing the offense is: “That girl prancing around in her underwear.”

He refers to french underwear model Noemie Lenoir, who regularly features in M&S ads wearing a bra and knickers.

The ad is, apparently, demeaning to women.

Demeaning to women?

I'll tell you what's (who's) demeaning to women That vacuous waste of space - Jordan.

If these complainers had their way, the only underwear M&S could sell would be ‘Harvest festivals’ you know, a thick hessian garment where ‘all is safely gathered in’.

NICE ‘The National Institute for Clinical Excellence’ has ruled that a new drug that can prolong the life of liver cancer patients is too expensive to be available on the NHS.

Too expensive?

Why? Is it made from diamonds, rubies or gold? No, of course it isn’t. The chemical components of the drug cost pennies; it’s the drug company and their shareholders who’re the greedy bastards for putting profit above life.

Farting Apparently, on ‘I'm a Celebrity, get me out of here’, one of the topics of discussion was farting. I don't watch the programme; I have a life. However, a ‘celebrity’ chef said that when his wife farts (she'd apparently done it twice in 8 years), he refuses to speak to her for the rest of the day. He says women shouldn’t fart.

So, with that in mind, how long after you have met your new girlfriend/boyfriend should you fart in their presence? (Our own editor reckons about 15 minutes.)

Why do we make such a fuss about it? We all do it; even the Queen farts; but hers smell of peacock and caviar, apparently.

The perpetual appeal for aid for Africa...

The Africans in question live in a perpetual state of poverty and war. However, their appetite for food is, evidently, secondary only to their appetite for sex.

Why does a man, barely alive, look at his skeletal wife (tits like spaniel's ears) and think, ‘I've got dysentery, typhoid, malaria & AIDS, I have not eaten for three weeks, my children are starving to death in front of my eyes; I know, I'll shag the missus and bring another child into this living hell. And, if he's still alive in 5 years, I'll teach him to either kill men, women and children with a machete, or how to lie in the dirt and beg, like I do - anything other than getting up off his arse and digging a well.

‘Maybe he could go to work for Robert Mugabe (the well known African/Yorkshireman - spelt e ba gum backwards) and kill white farmers and burn down their homes and destroy the crops that feed us?’

While we are on the subject of begging, will there be a Christmas Appeal to pay for bombs and bullets for

Rod Stewart’s Backing Singers Rod’s got one of his ‘new albums’ out for Christmas and naturally he’s been doing the rounds of chat shows in order to promote it (I spotted him on The Graham Norton Show as I was channel-hopping the other night).

It might be a new album’, but it’s simply Rod’s ‘take’ on songs that’ve already written/sung (but I guess he’s earnt the right).

But never mind all that. The question begs, have any gentlemen Edge readers noticed his backing singers, in particular the middle one?

By Christ, she’s got a pair of lungs-and-a-half on her. I mean, they are absolute whoppers!

Wonderful. Marvellous. Immense. Fandabbydozy!

But back to the music....

Elbow, on the South Bank Show.

I first took notice of them on a compilation album whilst driving the car somewhere and said to the wife, “Whoa! Who just sang that one?”

Born just down the road to The Edge (they’re from Bury, I popped out in Oldham), I was always clearly destined to appreciate their....how do you describe it? It’s not maudlin....but it’s....it’s....it’s...???

Page 31

our soldiers in Afghanistan?

No, there's limitless money for that.

Hanging I watched the most excellent C4 programme The Execution of Gary Glitter. Hilton McRae, the actor who played Glitter, gave what I think is the acting performance of the year.

However, I did find the programme extremely disturbing, but not for the reason you may expect. During the play, it was stated that 54% of adults in the UK would like to bring back the death penalty.

Are they mad? The authorities have our most personal details - financial, medical, etc. The UK authorities have collected and stored more DNA than any other nation. There are more CCTV and surveillance cameras in the UK than any other country; they intrude on our lives completely; yet now, 54% of us want to give them the power to kill us. TO KILL US!

The Grumpy Goose

Chelmsford Clubs & Bars Why not cut your overheads this Christmas by selling cheap cider from the back of a lorry in your car park.

No need for bar staff/door staff/heating bills etc. and the effects would be the same - lots of profit and f*ck the consequences (hoards of drunken teenagers roaming the streets, making the town centre a very unpleasant place to be). Come on, you know it makes sense.

Men & Women Women: why do you constantly pull at the hem of your already ‘too short’ skirt? Wear a longer one!

Men: why do you like big, cosmetically enhanced (plastic) tits? Would you be as enthusiastic about a plastic leg or a rubber arm/chicken?

Tina & Mike would like to say a heartfelt THANK YOU to all of their customers, both past and present, for the loyalty they have shown since taking over at THE TWO BREWERS. You have been utterly amazing!

Thanks so very much.

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coilus interruptus n. Lat. Method employed by God to prevent the birth of Meatloaf’s daughter.

Page 32

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...NOT OUT! Two Tribes There is a well known phrase that gets trotted out so often that you wince inside every time you hear it. It's used by all manner of people, usually, and mistakenly, thinking they are making a humorous point. In fact, more often than not, it will be a totally unfunny generalisation that has no basis in reality. It's the sort of thing Mark Lawrensen will spout on Match of the Day in the completely misguided notion that he possesses a Wildean wit. That phrase under derision here is 'There are two types of people in the world….'.

Having said all that, we're going to use the 'two types' phrase as an introduction to this homage to whomsoever it was that came up with an idea for a business that is so brilliant that the man deserves every million he makes. Unfortunately, the name of the man, or woman, who is now sitting in their mansion counting their cash is lost in the fog of information available on the web. So, in the absence of formal recognition, the anonymous mastermind whose idea this was is going to have to make do with this minor Edge-only tribute to his or her genius. And that fortune, of course.

So here we go. There are two types of people in the world, tidy people and those who can make an empty room look like a teenager's den. That's about as funny (i.e. it isn't at all) as most of the other examples, but let's not labour the point.

GOT SOMETHING TO SAY? Got an opinion about something that’s appeared in The EDGE? You do?

Then get on-line on The Edge’s website RIGHT NOW!

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The thing about tidy people is that although they will acquire as much gumpf as anyone else over the course of a lifetime, they have the discipline to ensure that their local environment is kept tidy. This, of course, necessitates doing something with the stuff they no longer need or use.

Untidy people, on the other hand, don't have this discipline. They will leave their stuff lying around whether that be on an office desk, in a living room, or cluttering up the garage. Every now and then such people will be forced, either by a partner or by lack of space, to have a bit of a clear up. But within hours it will look like they'd never bothered. The big thing though is that these tidy ups rarely involve actually throwing anything away, they are simply a relocation exercise. So if, for example, the garage is deemed so full of stuff that there's no room for the car, then some of it will be moved to the loft. Which leads to the question of what happens when the loft is full? More on that in a minute.

It is, of course, possible to be in the middle of the two extremes of people we've discussed so far, and keep all your stuff where it is, but pile it neatly. Which screws up the two-types theory, because here's a third, but hey-ho, it only adds weight to this tribute.

In all these cases , you'll have noticed that a trip to the tip has not been mentioned.

This is because most of us have an in-bred fear of actually throwing anything away, just in case it comes in useful sometime in the future. It's an absolute certainty that you will never have thrown away a solitary CD you've ever purchased. No matter that it was Barry Manilow's Greatest Hits, bought in a drunken stupor as an ironic gesture when you were on holiday, it's still in the box with your beloved Led Zep vinyl. Those jeans that are at least four inches too small around the waist will still be there, neatly folded, waiting for the day you can get into them again.

It's probably something that goes back to primeval times, when we were all part-man, part monkey. In those days, there was no buffer - if you had food, you ate it, even if you were full because you never knew when you were going to eat next. Real hunger is not something any of us have ever experienced, of course, but our grandparents may well have, thereby ensuring that the hoarding impulse remains in our genes from only a generation or two back. A mere millisecond in human evolution.

Anyway, the bottom line is that throwing things away goes against all our human instincts.

The idea that deserves some sort of award is one that taps into this gut feeling in a brilliant fashion. We are talking, of course, about the Big Yellow Self Storage Company, and others of its ilk. Mr Big Yellow offers you the opportunity to move stuff somewhere else, even when the loft is full. It's a limitless offer too - no matter how much you have, he's got space for it. All you need to do is hand over great wads of cash and you can store stuff you will never need, and indeed, probably never even look at again for all time.

It is, quite simply, perfect as a business model, exploiting, as it does, basic human emotions, and even better, being completely open-ended in terms of how long they will be collecting cash off you. It's not even as if it needs hundreds of staff. All the difficult work - packing, transporting, unpacking you do yourself. Unless you want to pay Mr Big Yellow to do it, of course. All those boxes you need to neatly stash your stuff?

Why, Mr Big Yellow can sell you some. And the tape to keep it all intact? Yup, he's got some of that too. At a price.

Makes you wish you were so clever, doesn't it?

To finish where we started, with the twotypes thing. This one doesn't really work any more, because just about everyone under thirty is now adorned with some sort of body art, but forty odd years ago, there definitely were two types of man in the world. There were men with tattoos, and men who were afraid of men with tattoos.

If only they were all as good as that one.

steveward2000@hotmail.com

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Sally Gunnell n. prop. Motor trade jargon to describe a used car that’s not much to look at but is a very good runner.

PORSCHE 3 days PANAMERA WITHOUT Sounds like a ‘throw’ a woman might wear, or a INTERNET blokes cravat of some description. orway,email Either one will set you back over £100k yes, for a bloody car!

CONNECTION You could even buy a

Financial Planning: Long term, the car is definitely the cheaper option.

German Efficiency

Talk about German efficiency. These two photographs were taken at a new parking garage in Munich. The actual space that the facility occupies is approximately only 20% of a comparable facility with the traditional design that’s naturally in operation throughout Blighty. But not only is the German structure less expensive to build, vehicles are also 'retrieved' in less time and without the potential of being damaged by an attendant, or any twats who loiter around car-parks who’re potentially up to no good so far as your paintwork is concerned.

Honest readers, this is genius.

It’s not just the football that the Krauts always beat us at.

Ford Mondeo or a Vauxhall Insignia for the price of a few extras, such as Dynamic Chassis Control and Adaptive Air Suspension.

Page 33

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oldest toad in the pond n. A particularly low, vociferous, grumbling fart, usually formulated after necking eight pints of stout.

t's that time of year again where every conversation in the home starts with, “Who’s got the sellotape?” or “Where are the scissors?” followed by a row about putting things back in their rightful place.

Yes, good old Christmas is knocking at the door again. What do you mean the shops have been selling Christmas trees since August?

Never ones to miss a trick, Mr. Gabbage (surely that should be Mr. Garbage) of the Health and Safety Agency, has issued a guide on how to shop and survive the High Street safely. According to Mr. Gabbage, you should…

1. Get up early and eat a hearty breakfast, such as porridge or wholemeal toast, which is packed full of carbohydrates which offer a slow release of energy before you embark. The way I see it, isn’t it much better to have an extra couple of hours in bed before dashing around like a lunatic? And as for the carbs, has Garbage not heard of the Atkins Diet?

No-one eats carbs anymore. In fact, in certain circles, carbs are on a par with Crack Cocaine; they’re a definite no-no, a slippery path to the dark side if ever there was one.

2. Write a list of what you need to get so that you buy exactly what you need and don't overspend. Overspend? We’re all skint, matey. Having said that, in the past, how many times have you roared up to the shops looking for a bargain, only to be seduced by some smooth talking salesman who palms you off with a load of expensive crap? Then again, where would the fun be on Christmas Day if not for watching the family opening rubbish and tat and quietly seething whilst putting on a forced smile? Is Christmas not a time for getting your own back? Many a family feud has been started by inappropriate present choices. And let's face it, family traditions are at an all time low as it is.

3. When you get dressed, think comfort. Flat shoes and elastic waisted trousers and layers to avoid getting overheated in the shops. Flat shoes?

Elasticated waisted trousers? Hasn't he seen Posh Spice and Colleen Rooney in action? Neither ever go shopping without their 7’ Christian Laboutin’s to smoke about in, not to mention a flimsy blouse and not a winter coat in sight. And where has such stupidity got them? Why, a Hollywood lifestyle, gorgeous husbands (well, perhaps not for Colleen), credit cards that know no limits, not to mention a team of flunkeys to cater to their every whim. Yes, these girls know all about pain and gain. Flat shoes indeed, you silly, silly man!

4. Take plenty of cash to avoid the credit card and cash point queues. What? Is the man Garbage for real? Hasn't he heard of the credit crunch? The only way to shop is by credit card. Cash is like folklore of a bygone era. No one ever sees cash these days, let alone has handled any since circa 2005. Anyone seen handing over cash in a shop is looked upon in the same light as a money launderer

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working for some terrorist organisation.

Should you dare to try and pay with a twenty pound note, the girl on the till will glare at you whilst furiously holding it up to the light and frantically pressing a bell hidden beneath the counter, whereupon some spotty juvenile will immediately drop whatever they’re doing and come running to offer said customer a ‘dirty look’. Thus cash is like gold dust and as rare as rocking horse manure, Mr. Garbage.

5. Leave the car at home and walk.

What, to Lakeside? Surely that’s what Christmas is all about; driving around and around multi-storey car parks for hours upon end, before finally reversing into another car, having a bit of fisticuffs with the driver, then bursting into tears. And as for walking, see 3 (you try walking in 7’ heels, fully laden with carrier bags).

6. Go it alone, that way you'll cover more ground. If taking a husband or a partner, split up and arrange to meet at the end of the day. Take mobile ’phones so that you can ask a second opinion about any item to be purchased. You’re an idiot, Gabbage. A complete raving lunatic! You mean to tell me you want me to deny the one chance I get all year round of torturing my husband by making him trail around the shops for hours upon end carrying all my bags? What's the point in having a husband at all then? After all, it's not only a dog that's not just for Christmas.

It’s the one time of year where women can get their own back. And, for good measure, we get to throw in phrases like, 'Well, it’s your mother/sister/auntie/brother that we’re shopping for, so STOP MOANING!” And what do you mean about a second opinion, Mr. Garbage? You’re obviously not married, are you, or you’d know that men don’t have opinions when it comes to Christmas shopping? Correction. Men think little elves come out and leave all the presents under the Christmas tree all neatly wrapped up whilst a fairy godmother drops in and cooks the dinner.

7. If you haven't bought anything after an hour, do not start panic buying.

Simply ask yourself if it is really the right present for the person? Or, in other words, if you haven't bought anything tacky and useless within the hour, ask yourself this…why bother buying them a present at all? Just get them a gift voucher and have done with it. And before you say oh so smugly why not shop on line…think again...do you really want to spend the next 4 weeks tearing your hair out at the Royal Mail sorting office, clutching cards that say you were out when you know damn well you hadn't left the house for weeks in anticipation of the deliveries.

Grrrrrr. Whatever happened to Christmas past? A time before kids worshiped Argos Catalogues and PlayStations. A time when Christmas decorations consisted of weeks spent making paper chains that were licked and stuck together. A time when Dads disappeared into the shed every night to make wooden toys and repair second hand bicycles. A time before Iceland adverts (I wonder if anyone ever buys all that stuff from Iceland, lays it all out on Christmas Day, then thinks, ‘Sod it! I wish I’d spent a bit extra and gone to M&S instead’?) when mum made her own Christmas pudding and mince pies. A time when a tin of Quality Street would sit beneath the tree for weeks in anticipation of Christmas Day, when the lid would finally be prised off and you'd all get to pick your favourite ones until only the hard toffees were left.

I ask you, whatever next, Mr. Gabbage, you complete and utter moron!

Tracie123@aol.com

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LIKE A KID IN A SWEET SHOP I don’t know where the time’s gone, but I’ve actually had my Audi A3 for the past six years, writes The Edge Editor. Having said that, I’ve wanted to change it for about the past two as I really could do with five doors instead of three. Built-in/Bolted-on roof-bars are also a chief desire (for long-weekends away camping), so yes, you’ve guessed it, readers, I want an estate car because I am now officially a bit of an old fart.

I originally bought my A3 as an ex-demonstrator from Chelmsford Audi when I’d firmly had it in mind to buy a 3-series BMW from Bates in Maldon (now Cooper BMW, situated just down the road from Sainsburys in Springfield, on route to Aston Barclay at the Boreham Interchange). I just saw it on their forecourt as I was driving by and, being nosy, looked through the glass to check out the interior (I’m a bit fussy, I have to admit) and immediately thought, ‘That’s the one for me’.....a bit like you do when you’re out shopping for a new wife.

Well, ones needs and desires naturally change over the years, don’t they, which is why men often have a tendency to chop in their cars/wives on a whim, whereas I gave mine 6 years loyal and devoted service.

I’m definitely getting my next one from Aston Barclay though.

I know what I want (an Audi A4 Avant), so it’s just a matter of keeping my eyes peeled on their website and spotting the right car for me.

However, what I didn’t know is that Aston Barclay also have auction sites at Prees Heath (Shropshire) and Westbury (Wiltshire), making them the third largest auction group in the whole country (yep, they’ve come a long way since opening up at the cattle market just off Victoria Road back in 1965).

I visited Aston Barclay recently, just to have a bit of a snoop around, and I was honestly like a kid in a sweet shop. To say I’d theoretically made up my mind on the exact car I wanted, if it had been an auction day when I visited, I genuinely reckon there’s a good chance I might have driven away in a Jaguar X-type 2.2litre (diesel) sport estate.

Exactly....what’s all that about?

Temptation I think they call it!

Did I ever seriously think I’d consider buying a car at an auction?

No. But then again, Steve O’Connor sourced me a Peugeot 306 from a car auction far too many years ago to mention now, and I never had a moments trouble with it, so why on earth not?

“It’s a complete misconception to believe that cars are only sold at auction because there’s something wrong with them,” says David Scarborough, Operations Manager for Aston Barclay. “Today’s used car market is big business. The majority of our cars come from major corporate Blue Chip companies. These are massive financial institutions, not motor car retailers. The vast majority of the vehicles we sell are ex-company cars that have been well maintained and serviced regularly. Auctions offer the

David Scarborough of our local Chelmsford Car Auction. seller a quick, efficient and sensible return by simply turning metal into cash. On the flip side of the coin, any buyer at an auction generally drives away with a decent acquisition that has generally been purchased for thousands of pounds less that it would have cost if it had been bought from a motor dealership.”

And that’s precisely what your editor has in mind.

David continues, “Auctions, in general, have enhanced their reputations massively over the past decade. Next year will see Aston Barclay invest yet further in our operation since securing our 11 acre freehold site. We’re a major player in the marketplace and we didn’t earn our reputation by selling dodgy motors, that’s for sure. We always strive to offer a wide selection of vehicles which sell at sensible, true market values, as opposed to what you’ll see on dealership forecourts.”

Aston Barclay (Chelmsford) offer three auctions per week:Monday 6:00pm - 8:30pm Wednesday 11:00am- 3:00pm Saturday 10:30am - 1:00pm Whilst it obviously pays to see the cars ‘in the metal’, The Edge would urge anyone interested to log onto the Aston Barclay website which is incredibly simple to use.

Aston Barclay sell 60,000 cars per year and I’m after just one of them.

I’ll keep you posted as to any progress I make! www.astonbarclay.net

tel: 01245 450700

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