The Edge Magazine October 2013

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EDGE

the ISSUE NO: 204

www.theedgemag.co.uk

‘THE CHELMSFORD FANZINE’

Telephone 01245 348256

Mobile: 077 646 797 44

OCTOBER 2013

shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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Sent in by his (human) owner, Stuart Bultitude.

The Edge 077 646 797 44

Celebrating 17YEARS 17YEARS 17YEARS 17YEARS 17YEARS of theEDGE

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The Edge Editor’s Column 0 FAUX PAS

!/ 1+<./8 =2/. faux -9?6.pas .9 of A3>2 -9+>wonderful 90 :+38> I think the major our+ last =9 >29?12> ,/>>/< 19 >9 >2+> summer was H. ‘lads’ wearing their$9?6>98 sunglasses on $9<>+,6/= 38 heads +8,?<C A2/</ >2/ A30/ the backs :6+-/ of their whilst chewing on 9<313 a 8+66C =9?<-/. cocktail stick. 3> '+65 +,9?> ,<381381 + >/+< >9 7C /C/ 63></ -+8 A+= >A/8>C ;?3. 986C >2/ ,695/ </-598/. H. :<9,+,6CCHOCOLATE 8//.

63></= E ?> 30 C9?

LOTTA ,?C 63></or -+8 D biscuits F 2/ =+3.

A3>2used + =736/ Is it >2/ just me, did09< Club really to 98 0+-/and EC9?H. ,/ =+@381 C9?<=/60 be 23= bigger have+->?+66C a lot more chocolate on D themF than they do nowadays? &9 >2+>H= A2+> ,699.C A/66 9:>/. 09< A23-2 3= A2C H7 89A 2+@381 >9 2+@/ + ,3> 90 + =3> .9A8 MOTHER TRADED DAUGHTER FOR

NEW FREEZER

Sometimes you read stuff that absolutely stag3 you and a mother swapping her 11-yeargers 9@/daughter >2/ 7+1to a neighbour in exchange for a old =2+</ C9?< .3=635/did 90 just 063/=that to me. kitchen appliance -9?:6/worse 90 C/+<= +19the 98/ 7C then =98= forced 38><9 to What’s is that girl90was .?-/.

'23= 3= + 2+8.C work in7/ an >9 illegal aluminium pan factory where, 63>>6/ ./@3-/ >+5/= she >2/ 09<7 90 + 6312>A/312> to add insult>2+> to injury, was sexually abused >/883= by the <+-;?/> owner. >C:/ >2381 A3>2 A3</ 7/=2 +8. >A9 ,+>>/<3/= 3= Police also found C9? five -+8 other1?/== girls -A2/</ aged >23= between

19381 &9 ,+=3-+66C =A+> >2/ 14 and-+8H> 17 - C9? being forced to workC9? in appalling 063/= +8. >2/C +</they 38=>+8>6C 38-38/<+>/.

A3>2 in + conditions when raided the workshop 06+=2 90 10 A23>/ 6312>south +8. >2/ =9?8. 90 + -<+-5 Bernal, miles of Buenos Aires. <381= + A296/ 69+.seeing 90 0?8 >9 '2/ Ah, that’s OK then, as=A+>>381 they’re not Brits. =7+66 98/= =//7 >9 .3=+::/+< +8. >2/ 6+<1/< No it bloody well isn’t.

98/= 8/@/< &97/ + S’truth, is it </-9@/< any wonder that7312> The >2385 Edge >2+>H= doesn’t ,3> ,<?>+6 3> 3= .+78 ;?3-5 >99 cover the ,?> news? %/1+<.= 9, ?663>98 EGGPLANT AAA >2//B/-?>398/< I only found out the other day that eggplant-9 is ?5 actually aubergine. And just so’s you know, the only thing I like eggplant in is ratatouille. ?=> >29?12> H. :9: C9? +8 /7+36 >9 6/> C9?

589A >2+> @/ 4?=> 6+?12/. +66 >2/ A+C 0<97 NUDGE 2/67=09<. >9 just 3@/<:996 &><//> >23=the 79<8381 Eighty quid it’s cost me to fill motor up>H= >2/ >37/ H@/ /@/< :3-5/. + -9:C 90 '2/ with03<=> diesel. .1/you ?:hear +8. 3>me 3= right?

236+<39?= !+./ >2/ D </>?<8 Did Eighty quid! ><+38 >3-5/>to>9be &69?12 =//7 =6312>6C /B>9< You used able to go away for6/== the weekend >398+>/ +8. >2/(OK, 0+-> >2+> A+= 98 7CinA+C on eighty quid OK, albeit back the >9 sev-/6/,<+>/ 7C >2 =6312>6C 79</ ,/+<+,6/ enties). +-/C 23>>C Christ alive, how did it ever get to this?

B How did it ever get to eighty sodding quid?

Actually, it was £80.01 as the till staff always nudge that extra penny on from a secret red '2/ 2+=don’t >+5/8they?

900 :</>>C button underneath the=/<3/= counter, A/66 )/H@/ 2+. >2/ =23> -969?< 90 2/67=09<. !+<5/> !+C +>/< 9?=/LEA ?8/ >2/ <7C DAIRY "+@C ?6Canyone $3==93< $+==+1/ ?1?=> I don’t06C9@/< care what says, you cannot beat +8. !+<5/> 38 >23= triangle. /.3>398 a Dairy Lea %9+. soft cheese 9A/@/< 3>H= 19381 >9 1/> 0+< ><3-53/< 0<97 2/</ 98 38 ,/-+?=/ + =97/ 90 >2/ 79=> 9,@39?= =23> LONDON ,3>= 9?<wife -3>Cto 2+@/ 89A the ,//8 +--9?8>/.

Took90the London other day and09< how +8. , commute >2/ 096./< on >2+>a regular A+= 5//:381 C9?< if=?1 people daily basis a 1/=>398= 38 2+= =97/29A 7C=>/<39?=6C part of their journey involves the tube as./6/>/. well is 3>=/60 7C -97:?>/< &9 -+8 +=5 +66 90 C9? totally0<97 beyond me.

A29H@/ +6</+.C =/8> 38 C9?< 38-of I used to do it, for ever such=?11/=>398= a short period :29>91<+:2= 538.6C =/8. time in my life,>9but surely you>2/7 feel 38 both dirty and ?> A2+> H7 +0>/<you +</clock =97/on8/A -6/@/</< knackered by</+66C the time at 9:00am...

89> 9,@39?= 7312> +> 03<=> and=9 you’ve then=?11/=>398= got a whole>2+> day’s work89> ahead +::/+< of you. +::+</8> &9 1/> C9?< >2385381 -+:= 98 +8.

6/>= no, ,/ </-/3@381 >2/7alright :<98>9 No, no, no. London’s to have a few

beers in, but travelling to get there on a regular daily is entirely matter. +@/ basis 4?=> </-/3@/. +8another /7+36 0<97 =97/98/ -+66/. !+B $/83= 900/<381 7/ G ,9>>6/= SCRUMPTIOUS % H 86+<1/< $366= +::+</8>6C '9 /B:/<3/8-/ At<9-5 the time writing (a Saturday afternoon, as + 2+<. of /</->398 it .98H> happens) just returned from 3= having a late /@/8 I’ve 589A A29 !+B $/83= ,?> >2+> morningA30/ full 90 english breakfast at Scrumptious ,699.C 738/ A366 =//73816C .3=2 7C /7+36 Tea Rooms +..</== 9?> in >9 Great +679=>Dunmow for the second weekend running because it is absolutely first class and definitely worth the journey.

38+66C 19> >9 >2/ ,9>>97 90 7C 9819381 G=29?6 DRESS DOWN FRIDAYS ./< :<9,6/7H </+./<= >H= +<>2<3>3= Dress Down Fridays7/ are bollocks.

'2+> 7+5/= 9003-3+66C 96. .9/= >2+> Companies should force their staff to dress as their opposite gender on Fridays instead.

YES, women have to turn 986C up dressed as 699 men ::+</8>6C &3798 9A/66 2+= ,6+-5 <966 and have to wear 38 frocks stockings and 38 +66men 90 23= ,+>2<997= +66 90and 23= 297/= say, “Oh, I’m lady.” + )2/</ .9 aC9? ,?C >2+> -969?< >2/8 , 9A .9 C9? 589A A2/8 C9?< ,?7H= -6/+8

NEW TENT

Went down to that Camping & General place on Canvey Island, looking buy a/7:=>/+. new tent (joint 8>/</=>381 >9 =// >2+> to /7/6 2+= investment The (163/=> F ckwitts) recently you ,//8 @9>/. with <3>+38H= '9A8 +0>/< +and =?<1/ * 3> :9A/< know just meant to 90 be?

90 6+>/when @9>381some 03B/.things =+Aare +2/+. >2/ It was outside, the only ?>98 tent standing, on display :</@39?= 0<98> <?88/< as a 90 sale and it,/238. was love first site! #8/ >2/item +?>29<= >2/ at =?<@/C =+3. E It’s an/B+->6C olive colour, we’re to 38 call 589A A2C so /7/6 .3.going =9 A/66 >2/it/her :966 Olive.>2/</ Only 98-/ trouble is,98-/ we’reA+= not79</ going>2+8 to be able A/8> +8. to use itFuntil next season, and you know what /89?12 it’s like you90buy something, anything....

'2/ 03<=>when /.3>398 :?,63=2/.

38 It’s like=96. having an>2+8 itch/spot and-9:3/= not being 79</ +8.able :<9 to scratch/pop it! 0<97 8?7/<9?= >9A8H= </=3./8>= @95/.

9?><+1/ % * God ( /‘LIKE’0 The " Edge. ! Go ( (' Please on... (($ (& +" ! & ! .#' facebook.com/theedgemagazine +-#++ ) (& " ! ! twitter.com/TheEdgeMag () Christ’s ")#*+0* *sake, $ LIKE DO IT NOW! For " Edge ! as * '( ,!! ) else %* does. ( * The no bugger

c c

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

) %% ) %" * - $ . "# ( %&& $ $*( "#) %( ,,, ) %% ) %" , "" (. % +! $'+ ( ) ) %% ) %" , "" (. % +!

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PLUG

Beer Goggles If Carlsberg were opticians, they’d probably create beer goggles that had lenses just like this.

But it’s what weekend’s are all about, isn’t it?

Getting your work clobber off and your gladrags (and your BEER/WINE GOGGLES) on!

It’s the morning after the night before that generally puts a spanner in the works, when you feel as though you’ve been slapped around the chops by a right damp halibut.

Nope, at the end of the day, beer (and wine) solves nowt. But you just try telling that to almost everyone come 5:00pm on a Friday afternoon.

We’re British after all. Getting completely bladdered is one of our truly great national traits.

www.theedgemag.co.uk

Just a little plug for Cliff ‘Get Down Shep’ Noakes of The Essex Cider Shop in Moulsham Street, readers, for t’was Cliff who advised me to buy some bottles of the award winning traditional farmhouse pressed Welsh cider (6.5% and absolutely delicious served exceedingly cold on a lovely hot day) Black Dragon prior to The Edge’s recent trip to St. David’s, Pembrokeshire (see following page...).

I’d tried a couple of warm bottles around our camp fire during evening #1, but that’s just not the way to serve it. However, the following afternoon, after a gorgeous coastal walk from ultra quaint Porth Clais to Solva, we climbed the stairs of an ickle cafe-cum-bar overlooking Solva’s bobbing harbour, only to find a ’fridge stacked full of the ice-cold very same, and after a 5-mile yomp in the heat, let your editor assure you, all three bottles he consumed hit the spot perfectly.

However, Cliff doesn’t just sell Welsh cider. Oh no, no, no, no, no.

So why not pop in and see him soon and choose from a range of over 140 ciders in both bottled and draught options. www.theessexcidershop.co.uk

Ali’s Taxis 46-46-46

inc. 8 seater mini-buses Airport Trips Corporate Accounts Welcome

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WHAT THIS PICTURE SAYS TO THE EDGE...

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“HOW PICTURESQUE IS THIS? HEY, AND JUST LOOK AT ALL THOSE TENTS!”

We’re all going to soooooo miss the lovely, lovely summer we’ve just had because for once we got used to a little bit of favourable consistency with our chaotic British weather.

Check this photograph out, if you will.

It’s Porthclais Bay near St. David’s (Pembrokeshire) - that’s Wales is that, boyo - taken on the final Bank Holiday Saturday of the year (yes, that’s right, when Chelmsford was all but flooded) and, well, for my sins, I really didn’t want to go at all.

When we were on the M4 at 6.30am in the morning, I swear The Edgemobile was pulling hard to the left, trying to get off and detour to Cornwall. But both the missus and The Fuckwitt’s (sat in the gloom that the privacy glass seemingly creates in the back - “like being in a coffin” they always complain) wouldn’t even countenance it. So onwards we pressed, towards the Taff border.

I do have to say that what perked me up no end was seeing the descending gloom in my rear view door mirrors and the enlightening sky the further westwards we pressed.

All in all (including the £6.20 entrance fee), I reckon it took us between 4.5 - 5hrs to reach our destination and what stunning views Porthclais Farm Campsite boasts.

But Christ-on-a-bike, I do get fed up of hearing the whining, whimpering Dainty Doreen’s at DNA Boot Camp, moaning on and screwing up their faces about the reasons why they could never, ever go camping. So I’ll tell you what it all boils down to, shall I? Bottom-line (no pun intended) they don’t fancy shitting in a bog that half-the-campsite’s already taken a dump in.

And that’s it.

They will all willingly do themselves out of the myriad pleasures that camping undoubtedly has to offer, all because of a blob of someone else's bab.

Marvellous.

So yeah, when we arrived, I was literally gob-smacked. It had been all of 15 years since I’d last visited St. David’s and I honestly remembered very little about it, other than a delicatessen that was no longer there - oh, and the fact that it had rained almost every day. But this past August Bank Holiday weekend, my god, what a scorcher, and don’t you end up enjoying yourself all the more the less you ultimately expect of something/anything?

It was honestly like being in pig heaven, readers. Great weather, great scenery, great draught ale, great BBQ food (Bernard Fuckwitt’s a butcher after all) and, y’know, no bad company either (but hell, 4/5 ain’t bad in anyone’s language)!

A sea view from our tent, whilst the first night we merried ourselves playing Jenka in the beer garden of the excellent Bishops pub that sells a perfect pint of Reverend James!

And the couple of days that followed just got better and better, all apart from a pain-in-the-ass of a journey home when we stupidly decided to visit the Gower peninsula on route (on route???) and ended up in Swansea by mistake (grumble groan). All told I must have driven for the best part of 7 hours on that fateful day, which was not so good at all.

However, St. David’s is good. In fact, readers, it’s frankly bloody marvellous and from not wanting to go there at all, I now cannot wait to get back there once again in 2014.

So if you do take The Edge up on it’s advice, just make sure you look at the weather reports afore ye travel to Wales, as the sunshine makes all the difference in the world. www.porthclais-farm-campsite.co.uk

shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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The Edge 204_The Edge 172.qxd 25/09/2013 15:52 Page 8

ŵŽƌĞ ƚŚĂŶ ũƵƐƚ Ă ŐLJŵ ŵŽƌĞ ƚŚĂŶ ũƵƐƚ Ă ŐLJŵ ŵ ŽƌĞ ƚŚĂŶ ũƵƐƚ Ă ŐLJŵ

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Congratulations to David Moyes for signing Marouane Fellaini from his former club. You have to have a big set of plums indeed to even dare to take over the mantle from Sir Alex and The Edge feels sure that ‘Kojak’ is destined to become a talisman and play just as important a role in Manchester United’s continued success as Roy Keane supplied in the past.

Almost immediately United look all the stronger with Fellaini on the pitch.....and no, The Edge isn’t even ‘a red’.

Page 8

CITIZEN Citizen asks have England done enough – and would a manager from Ipswich Town F.C. help?

A home win over Moldova and an away draw against Ukraine leaves England needing at least 4 points from their final two World Cup qualifying matches against Montenegro and Poland at Wembley this month, in order to automatically qualify for the 2014 World Cup finals in Brazil.

Marketing executives with an eye on promotions, landlords and pub company owners throughout the country will all be nervously watching the outcome of these final two games.

In Chelmsford, as elsewhere, the city centre pubs, and those in the outer residential areas, will be hoping for a financial bonanza from screening the games. Nothing fills a pub more than a live England match in a major international tournament.

But without England, or the other home countries (including the Republic of Ireland who seem to be every England fans surrogate favourite ‘other international team’) it’s all been a big letdown. Because let’s face it, you’re not going to fill a boozer for Burkina Faso versus Croatia (and at the time of writing that is still a distinct possibility!).

The 4 hour time difference with Brazil means that matches kicking off at 9.00pm in Rio de Janeriro will be screened at 1.00am here, so landlords and England fans will no doubt be hoping for earlier kick-offs for England games starting at 5.00pm, which will surely fill the pubs over here at our time of 9.00pm.

Citizen was in San Francisco during the European Championships last year and met some Irish fans, who lived and worked in the city, in Martin Mack’s Irish Bar at Haight-Ashbury (a must visit place for any 60’s music aficionado). They invited us to join them for breakfast at 9.00am the following day in Harrington’s pub in the financial district, where we watched England draw 1-1 with France. Citizen was incredibly surprised by how many Americans turned up to watch the fixture - most supporting us and some even wearing England shirts! But is this really surprising, given John Kerry’s recent comments about the French being their oldest allies?

Football in pubs has become a vital part of their business model and has certainly helped to keep a lot of pubs open and many people in employment.

Obviously not everyone likes it, but as long as some pubs do not have televisions, by both choice and because they listen to their core customers, then everyone should be happy. Citizen would not want to see TV’s in village pubs/restaurants or those cosy city centre pubs where maybe the older generation go to meet friends, have a meal and converse with one another. However, it has to be admitted that Citizen does love the atmosphere of a big match occasion in a really lively pub!

Wetherspoons originally had a ‘No TV’ policy. In 2002 Citizen believes their customer count fell during the World Cup, so in 2006 their managers had the discretion to have TV’s showing matches, and many subsequently did. Come the 2010 World Cup finals and all Wetherspoons pubs had them - and did a roaring trade. So good for them - they have their finger firmly on the pulse of what their customers want – and how to attract new ones.

It was in the early days of satellite TV - for Italia 90 - that Citizen first recalls going to an English Pub showing football. Whilst with friends we saw several England games, including the semi-final against Germany. The pub - the British Bulldog in Armaceo de Pera on the Algarve - was packed with Brits of all shapes and sizes running the gamut of every socio-economic group. Many of these would not normally have visited the Bulldog, but it was the only pub in town with a telly.

England were managed at the time by the great Bobby Robson (later Sir Bobby), the second most successful manager of our national team. The most successful - Essex born Sir Alf Ramsey - was, like Sir Bobby, chosen after managing Ipswich Town to major success. Sir Alf won the ultimate domestic competition - the League Championship - in 1962.

Sir Bobby won the F.A. Cup in 1978 and the UEFA Cup in 1981 with great teams he had built, including the legendary Kevin Beattie, John Wark, Mick Mills (who as well as captaining Ipswich led England in the 1982 World Cup), England centre forward Paul Mariner, Terry Butcher and the sublime Dutch duo of Arnold Muhren and Frans Thijssen. Mills, Mariner and Wark, along with underrated goalkeeper Paul Cooper (the best saver of penalties ever and someone who would have walked into the current England team) won both FA Cup and UEFA Cup medals.

Robson’s Ipswich were, in 1981, the best team in Europe, chasing a treble of League, FA Cup and UEFA Cup right up until the end of the season, when through a combination of injuries and fixture congestion they were pipped to the league by Aston Villa, whilst losing out to Manchester City in the FA Cup semi-finals.

The top three players in both the Football Writers Player of the Year and the PFA Player 2;>competition -: -881E ;> <-??-31C-E -? 5@? of 9 the Year were all from Ipswich, with Thijjen winning the writers award and Wark the PFA trophy.

Quite an achievement for a provincial team that, at the time, had a lot of Chelmsford based supporters.

Sadly, many of these have now rediscovered the way to West Ham, Arsenal, Spurs, or the nearest shop selling Manchester United shirts with the advent of the Premier League. Ipswich have only figured in the Premiership for a total of 5 years, last time ending in 2002 when relegation began what is now a 12 year period in the Championship (which despite its rebranding remains England’s second division in my eyes at least!).

Quite simply, the 1981 Ipswich team peaked too soon - or rather 10 years too soon - as Citizen is convinced that if Ipswich had players of the quality of the 1980-1982 period at the start of the Premier League in 1992, plus the resources this would have provided, they would still be in the top division their rightful place - rather than that inferior yellowshirted bunch from elsewhere in East Anglia with the famous celebrity chef whose cook books are absolutely banned from Citizen’s home!

Not that Citizen is bitter....for Citizen would far rather dwell on Ipswich’s proud history of developing international players - ITFC are three times winners of the FA Youth Cup - not to mention providing England with undisputedly their best two managers.

Furthermore, Ipswich is one of only two English teams to have had two managers knighted for services to football (the other being Manchester United with Sir Matt Busby and Sir Bobby’s close friend, Sir Alex Ferguson).

Mrs Citizen - sometimes a troublesome Scouser usually raises the injustice of no knighthoods for Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley and, okay, maybe she has a point.

Finally, the aforementioned Aston Villa, after winning the league using just 14 players, went on to win the European Cup in1982, their place in the competition would rightfully have been Ipswich’s in Citizens view.

Villa won it with Chelmsford born goalkeeper Nigel Spink who came on for the injured Jimmy Rimmer early in the match. Spink, who played for Chelmsford City, had been recommended to Villa by the then Chelmsford Weekly News Sports Editor Howard Southall - a lifelong Villa fan and sometime colleague of Citizen!

But, no, Citizen genuinely isn’t bitter at all!

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“THOSE WHO SAID NO TO US CAN’T HAVE THEIR WAY FOREVER....”

A true story of hope, determination and principles.

THE ROCHDALE PIONEERS Showing at the Cramphorn Theatre on Tuesday 15th October at 7:00pm (...and just 57 minutes long!)

Hailing, as I do, from right damp Oldham in Lancashire, readers (“Where do you come from?” “Oldham.” “Next.”), I feel as though I just have to bring this months screening of The Rochdale Pioneers at the Cramphorn Theatre to your attention, as Rochdale was just down t’road and they were our bitter local rivals in the old football fourth division at the time I first started watching The Latics, aged just seven.

Any road, The Rochdale Pioneers tells the true story of a bunch of working class men who set about changing the unfair society in which they lived and who unwittingly brought about the birth of the co-operative movement.

Set in 1844 and fed up with dishonest and corrupt shopkeepers selling poor quality products at high prices, a group of blokes decided to take matters into their own hands. By pooling the very few resources they had, the group managed to get enough money together to open up their very own shop and pledged to sell only quality, unadulterated products, sharing the profits fairly with their customers.

The shop was only small and stocked just a handful of products, such as butter, flour and sugar, but the idea at its core was revolutionary and the way they carried out their business so fundamentally different in its nature to anything that has preceded it.

The tale is particularly powerful as from these somewhat humble and unassuming beginnings, it is estimated that there are now 1.4 million individual co-operative enterprises globally, which secure the livelihoods of over three billion people.

That’s why today, more than ever, the story of The Rochdale Pioneers is one to inspire others to change their own world by making a difference to the society in which they live.....which is what The Edge is all about!

The Rochdale Society of Equitable Pioneers was formed by just twenty eight workers - 10 being flannel weavers and the rest made up of either cloggers, shoemakers, joiners or cabinet makers. Just think what we could do in Chelmsford if just 28 of us pooled our resources and our ideas?

Back then, in the ‘Hungry (eighteen) Forties’, with obscene levels of unemployment, retailers would often not give fair weights of the goods they sold, whilst their products were prone to adulteration, such as adding chalk to flour. So ‘The Pioneers’ came along and promised to sell only good quality produce at full weight and fair prices.

It’s a truly marvelous tale and stars one of The Edge’s favourite actors and former ‘binman’ (who came late to the luvie profession) John Henshaw (below left), formerly the pub landlord in TVs Early Doors, as John Holt, one of the original members of The Rochdale Pioneers.

Eeee by ’eck, lads. www.theedgemag.co.uk

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40 New Street, Chelmsford, Essex, CM1 1PH 01245 299331 www.spaziodesign.co.uk www.spazio-online.co.uk Page 9

The Edge 204_The Edge 172.qxd 26/09/2013 08:49 Page 10

The

Gentleman An Interview with The Gentleman The Edge gets up close and personal with the man behind the quill, in a one off exclusive interview….

Should have gone to

The atmosphere is strangely tense. He is in tweed, ruddy cheeked, supping on a pipe, liberally swilling what seems to be a brandy, surrounded by tardy Basset Hounds and Jack Russell terriers.

Embraced in a large red leather chair, imperious, I am placed on a small wooden stool. At times, it wasn’t always clear who was interviewing who.

On the walls are several large family portraits. One particular image catches The Edge’s eye - a bronzed, faux-biblical image of The Gent himself as, what appears to be, some kind of Greek demagogue, togaclad and poseidoneseque. “Oh, that old thing....” he remarks.

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With regard to the latter, he says, “We have these bulbous shrill cretins lecturing the workless day in, day out. Men are caricatured by these dozy tramps as lazy dim oafs. It’s not even a programme.”

“You would have them stopped?”

“They have to be.”

He fronts up like a pitbull, clearing his throat.

“Morons...”

‘His’ mahogany desk is fettered with previous editions of The Edge, a comedy snowdome and a hastily covered edition of the Sunday Sport. There is a large bell, a brass globe with drawing pins in it, and a large picture of Lady Thatcher facing his guests, in need of a bit of a polish.

I get the feeling this is his rant of the day.

“What inspires you?”

“The Falkland Islanders. Sue Barker.”

“What’s in your ’fridge?”

We get down to business….

“Wouldn’t know. Probably some Dairylea.”

The Gent has been writing in The Edge for the best part of a year now. I ask: “What first attracted you to the publication?”

“What three things would you take on a desert island?”

“That’s a good question.” He is reflective.

“Despite one’s considerable wealth, The Gent encourages thrift. You see, one enjoys a rack of Back Inn Time ribs and Lady Gent was advised to collect the 50% coupons. It makes it very, very reasonable.

And sure, one’ll have a ‘shake’ from time to time, to roll back the years.

“One got to reading ‘the old rag’ (he does the finger apostrophe gesture thing) and it was evident The Edge had some promise.

What’s more, the honesty of the editor appealed. As did his love of Dorset....one has family on those fair shores.

“Aside from that, one is an evident leader of the Chelmsford community and likes to give ‘a bit back’, informing the local cretins and such like.”

“Why Chelmsford? Why Essex?”

“That’s a good question.

Three things; My estate.

Conservatism.

Diva Boutique (one did/ does a mean Dean Martin).”

“Biggest Achievement?”

“That’s a good question. Sandra Marks, 1997. Lady Gent is fully aware and it nearly cost me a fortune.”

“We have heard you are interested in Page 10

local politics. What’s in The Gent’s manifesto?” {Much of the response to this question has been edited for legal reasons, but key themes are the working time directive, arbitrarily ‘shutting’ things, paternity leave and the ITV daytime show ‘Loose Women’}

“That’s a less good question; it’s sloppy.

The FT. My wife. A flare.”

“Is this going to take much longer ?

You’re starting to bore me now.”

“No, we’re nearly done.”

“What are the things that keep you up at night?”

“European Monetary Union. Bankruptcy.

Facebook. Viagra, from time to time.”

He stands...

“I must tend to both the grounds and my affairs. It has been quite pleasant, but I must crack on. Your shoes are in the atrium. See yourself out.”

He seemed increasingly uncomfortable with my line of enquiry, but admitted to the benefit of unveiling the man behind the mask.

“But sir,” I call after him. “Will you carry on writing for my dear mag?”

“Yes. For as long as my people want me to. Now can I have my pen back?”

Bugger....I was going to pilfer that. It was a proper fountain pen with ink in it ’n all.

“Toodeloo, dear boy.”

The Edge 01245 348256

The Edge 204_The Edge 172.qxd 25/09/2013 20:11 Page 11

JOIN US FOR

L I V E AT THE LOCH Live Music from The Mark Brenner Band

Cake On The Lake Have you been to Cake On The Lake in the former bowls pavilion in Central Park yet, readers?

Oh come on, it’s a must, and fledgling owner Nicky Hind needs us all to get behind her new ickle venture like The Edge knows all decent local folk will.

We cycled there the other Sunday morning for coffee and a couple of rounds of toast & marmite and the setting is absolutely idyllic.

However, it’s when it’s dull, wet and windy over the coming six months that Nicky is really going to need our support, so let’s give it to her, as it’s truly lovely to have a cafe in the park.

Cake On The Lake first opened its doors on 15th August and so far, feedback has been extremely positive. It welcomes the park’s dog walkers, joggers and cyclists (there are railings to lock your bikes to) and there are also nappy changing facilities....oh, and duck food for just 50p per bag!

Nicky says, “I’m not here to compete with Costa and Starbucks. It’s more about sitting in an English garden. It’s somewhere to relax, away from the hustle and bustle of the town, but it’s only a short walk to get here.”

Open all year round, hot soup will be introduced throughout the cold, winter months and the council have further landscaping plans for out the front of this new park cafe, including further plants and shrubs.

Thursday 7th November from 7:30pm At Loch Fyne Chelmsford

Back by popular demand and for one night only, Loch Fyne are delighted to welcome back The Mark Brenner Band!

Booking is advisable for this one off event

Loch Fyne Chelmsford 109-111 Bond Street Chelmsford Essex CM1 1GD Tel: 01245 293 620 Email: chelmsford@lochfyne.net www.lochfyne.com

BAR 1

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Champagne Breakfast £10pp FULL ENGLISH/VEGETARIAN BREAKFAST , Glass Champers, orange juice, tea or coffee CHRISTMAS DAY 3 COURSES £45pp (children under 12 half price)

BAR 1Italian Restaurant Ideally located in Chelmsford’s city centre, Bar 1 serves the very best of Italian cuisine and is open all day long to enjoy at your leisure. It’s the perfect venue for breakfast meetings and business lunches, but is also ideal if you are simply joining friends for coffee, a light lunch, or perhaps even a cocktail or two...

In the evening, Bar 1 caters for every occasion - from romantic dinners and gourmet evenings with live music, to dinner parties in the restaurant. Party menus are also available from £15.50 for two courses inc coffee. Whenever you find yourself at Bar 1 you’ll find plenty of choice from the a la carte menu, with house favourites naturally including Linguini Frutti di Mare.

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BAR 1

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Page 11

The Edge 204_The Edge 172.qxd 25/09/2013 16:52 Page 12

Celebrating 17 YEARS of

EDGE

the

It’s CRAZY, isn’t it?

Seventeen years.

Where did they go?

I tend to think of 17 years in terms of being born, which I can’t quite remember a lot about, and then passing my driving test at the very first time of asking, shortly after my seventeenth birthday....which is what you do if you’re a proper bloke....you pass it first time.

In between all of that though, I remember almost shitting my pants prior to/ my very/ first day at school, collecting Dinky toys (cars), Noel Edmond’s Multi-Coloured Swap Shop (I was never a Tizwaz fan), Linda Thornber, Beverley Jackson and Julie Sherringham (in that order), leaving school with but two ‘O’ levels to my name and, erm, that’s about it, really.

But if I think about actually producing The Edge from my ickle office in my ickle ’ouse over a seventeen year period, when I did all that other stuff in the same period (inc. being born), then yeah, it’s scary

Page 12

Go on, have a guess?

If you’re struggling, turn to Kingpin’s column on page 26 and read the heading....that should narrow the options down for you.

Yes, it’s a silver platter of testicles.

Bull’s testicles, more than likely, judging by the size of ’em, and they never make any of those ‘F-list celebs’ in the jungle chew on any of these buggers just before Christmastime, do they?

Christ-on-a-bike, imagine having to cart a couple of those around in a gooseflesh-sack inbetween your legs every day.

Wicked markings on them, though.

That is proper, is that.

I just can’t imagine what they taste like though, no matter how well a top chef cooked them. All I can think of is how much you’ve probably got to chew them.

Can any of you readers enlighten the rest of us regarding this matter?

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The Edge 204_The Edge 172.qxd 25/09/2013 16:54 Page 13

Actually Pretty Amusing Went to see Ha Ha Holmes & The Hound of The Baskervilles (starring Joe Pasquale as the leading man) last month at the Civic Theatre and surprise, surprise, it was actually pretty amusing with a rather well thought out plot.

Indeed, the production was only a few minutes old when the narrator said: “...and a fiery rage entered him”, only for Holmes to react as though he’d just been poked up the bottom with an exceedingly large stick (bum-bum).

But it wasn’t all pure filth, and you can believe The Edge when it says that it wasn’t; it was just good, wholesome, tongue-in-cheek fun containing numerous genuinely laugh-out-loud moments (many of which included audience participation). That’s why it’s interesting to note that there are not one, not two, but three follow-up’s already planned, starting with Ha Ha Hood (‘Robin of Sherwood’ fame) in the autumn of 2014, Ha Ha Hamlet, and the one The Edge is particularly looking forward to seeing, Ha Ha Hitler.

When the lights went up for the interval (we’d been late arriving so I hadn’t had chance to have a gander around the auditorium) I noticed that me and Mrs Edge were, how can I put this, fairly young compared to many - which is a shame because everything’s so prepackaged nowadays, and it simply felt like a (light) relief to get back to some genuine comedy slapstick. What’s more, the bits that went wrong were, naturally, even funnier than everything else that went right, whilst the revolving stage was an absolute triumph.

www.theedgemag.co.uk

Page 13

The Edge 204_The Edge 172.qxd 25/09/2013 16:55 Page 14

TEAM BUILDING

The Home Partnership’s Scott Mason and Merrick Allen at the top of Mount Snowdon where it was reet cold by the looks of them!

Scott, Jo and Merrick, the original founder members of The Home Partnership in Duke Street, recently took themselves off for a couple of days away from the office as a T.B.E. (team building exercise).

They decided to climb Mount Snowdon, which is all of 3,560ft high, and before you ask, readers, no, they did not get the train back down!

Up top there’s a cafe that actually sells booze - including wine and local ales - plus a gift shop selling ’fridge magnets, key-rings and all that sort of malarkey. In fact, there’s even a red postbox (without a word of a lie) so that people can post their JPP’s (just purchased postcards)!

Our three intrepid heroes spent about an hour at the top, just chilling out (and it was definitely pretty chilly up there) and troughing (to replenish their energy reserves, ready for their descent), but were unfortunate that the summit was shrouded in mist as the rest of their climb had been both clear and dry.

Mason says, “Whilst Jo was taking this photograph (left) of me and Merrick with a copy of the world famous EDGE right at the very top of Snowdon, a man approached us after spotting the mag and said he lived in Braintree, which we all thought was great.

Small world.

“We stayed in a really

lovely B&B called Ty Mawr in Rhyd'Ddu, which roughly translates to ‘Big House’.

“Ms Williams had her own room whilst we boys shared like the great big homs that we sometimes are (Merrick actually bagged the big, comfy double-bed whilst I had to poke up with the most basic of camp-beds for both nights). Talk about Allen pulling rank!

“Next door was a quaint, traditional pub that served the most amazing food. Oh, and plenty of beer too, so the THP crew certainly got stuck into the local hospitality....all until the landlord suddenly shut up shop at 9.30pm one night, due to trade being so damn pesky quiet.”

In their exceptionally clean walking boots our intrepid trio covered a total of14.8km, which took them approx. four hours to get up tut summit and another 2.5 hours to get back down again.

All in all, a job well done, peeps!

Why sit on the fence when you can buy on the boundary?

Work has now commenced on the first phase of the £85 million redevelopment of Essex County Cricket Club. Contractors are now on-site with the first enabling works already completed.

The development will revolutionise the present club facilities by delivering a new cricket centre, pavilion, media centre and bar, club shop and stadium upgrade, increasing the capacity from 4,500 to 7,500 seats. The pavilion will offer extensive catering and event facilities, and will become Chelmsford’s premier banqueting venue.

Your INFORMATIVE Estate Agent

These facilities will be built as part of the next two phases, expected to commence in 2014. The scheme incorporates the New Writtle Street car-park replaced by a new multi-storey car-park, to include public as well as club car park spaces. Chelmsford City Council’s co-operation has been a most important factor in this development.

A new public piazza will form the heart of the scheme, featuring retail and leisure facilities, with pedestrian footbridge access to the City Centre.

Luxury apartment living will be brought to the city across four stylishly designed towers; three located adjacent to the River Can, with the fourth forming an integral part of the stadium overlooking the pitch.

With 53 out of 62 apartments in Tower ‘A’ already reserved, these are proving to be ideal buy to let investment purchases.

We are delighted to be offering for sale the 9 remaining apartments in Tower ‘A’ with the 1 bedroom apartments starting from £195,000 and 2 bed apartments starting from £240,000.

For further information please contact us on 01245 250222.

www.thehomepartnership.co.uk 11 Duke Street, Chelmsford CM1 1HL Telephone: 01245 250222 Page 14

The Edge 077 646 797 44

The Edge 204_The Edge 172.qxd 25/09/2013 17:09 Page 15

Bassment due to Re-open Tucked away in the narrow back streets of Chelmsford, the Bassment provides a slice of London basement bar culture with a focus on design and atmosphere, forward thinking cocktail menus and a soundtrack leaning towards the less commercial side of the dance floor.

Up until its closure in January 2013, the Bassment had long been a favourite destination for the more discerning Chelmsford reveller, and now, thankfully, almost a year later, the doors are set to open once again as the team behind Hooga and Barhouse re-launch the Bassment with a very distinct style and vision.

Split between two rooms, the venue has a dedicated cocktail bar serving an inspired mixture of fun, yet sophisticated, drinks with all the theatre of service, alongside a main room which is where you will find that all important dance floor.

The unique and relaxed surroundings draw influence from the retro styles of the 60s through to the 80s, making the Bassment the perfect setting for starting off or spending the whole of your night one floor under.

Be seduced by the music and entertainment until the early hours with the week nights featuring a mix of acoustic acts, bands, comedy, burlesque and themed nights. The weekends offer DJs, both local and established, paying homage to the musical history of the venue, whilst keeping things fresh with an eclectic mix of disco, reggae, indie, funk, soul and house.

Upcoming nights will feature a retro set from Mr C (The Shamen), The Fellowship with Guthrie Govan plus many, many more.

Launching Saturday 2nd November.

Opening Times Mon-Thurs: 4:30pm-12:00am Fri: 4:30pm-4:00am Sat: 7:00pm-4:00am www.BassmentBar.com www.twitter.com/BassmentBar ww.acebook.com/BassmentBar

www.theedgemag.co.uk

Page 15

The Edge 204_The Edge 172.qxd 25/09/2013 17:08 Page 16

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Page 16

The Edge 077 646 797 44

The Edge 204_The Edge 172.qxd 25/09/2013 17:31 Page 17

Mountain Biking Down The Valley of Almost Certain Death!

Hi Edge Mag! Thought we’d send you this picture (see page opposite, readers).

It was taken during a recent lads mountain biking holiday to Samoens in the French Alps. We’ve been making this pilgrimage annually for the last 17 years. Obviously we were all a bit younger when we first visited and are now, unfortunately, pushing the midlife boundary, but thankfully we still enjoy the thrill of throwing ourselves down rocky mountain trails wearing only lycra and a cycling helmet (none of that cumbersome body armour for us tough guys)!

However, we have been known to have the occasional accident. One of us unfortunately grazed his knee whilst attempting ‘The Valley of Almost Certain Death’ this year, not to mention a notorious and somewhat awkward ‘donkey incident’ a few years back, which we don’t really want to go into too much depth about.

However, there is also a secondary element to our pilgrimage these days.

We’ve found some fantastic accommodation - The Chalet Marie Stewart in Samoens - owned by a lovely wee Scottish lassie. She’s a trained chef and provides an absolutely fantastic breakfast plus three-course evening meals with complementary wine and beer. How much better can it get?

During our trips, The Edge mag (obviously) provides us with some much needed reading entertainment during our nine hour Transit Van journey to Samoens, so we decided to take a recent copy up to the very highest point (only Montblanc is higher and that’s in the background) and capture this snap (left) for all of your lovely readers. As you can see, even though the weather was incredibly hot and sunny, there was still a lot of snow at the top of the mountains, which only adds another element of fun to our descent.

However, The Edge mag did not make it back down the mountain with us as we decided to recycle it by passing it on to some rather bemused French tourists. We can only hope that they enjoyed reading it every bit as much as we did!

From left to right: Martin, Roy, Jim, Nick, Clive, Keith and Steve.

Hold up, hold up, lads. Forgive your editor for being so stupid, but how on earth do you get your mountain bikes UP to such dizzy heights in the first place?

E.E. I’d like to say we ride them up, but it’s actually a combination of chairlifts, roads (cycling) and off-road (cycling). The fun bit’s coming back down!

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Page 17

The Edge 204_The Edge 172.qxd 25/09/2013 17:10 Page 18

SHIT CHELMSFORD!

A WORD Just a word about negative people who like to complain about pretty much everything The Edge ever does.

Get a fecking life.

The bottom line and the honest truth is that 99/100 The Edge has usually got it absolutely right, and that’s not being arrogant....it’s merely being observational about how many people in this life have their corks screwed in just that little bit too tight.

You’re the type who’re small minded enough to believe that it’s your way or the highway. No it isn’t, you shallow-minded bell-ends. You’ve got it ALL so very sadly wrong.

I had someone ring up to complain after the September editions had hit-the-streets and I don’t honestly know why she bothered because I’d already been deemed guilty in her eyes, so whatever I said made absolutely no difference.

But just ASK YOURSELF, WOMAN, how many times in your life have you ultimately gone off on one before properly engaging the grey matter and despite someone telling you you’ve gotten completely the wrong end of the stick, you’ll swear that black is in fact white?

Negative, finicky people who are out to see the worst in everyone and everything get right on The Edge’s tits, because basically life is a gift and you’re fecking wasting your own.

Young drivers reckon lessons fail to prepare them Almost a Richard III of young, spottyfaced motorists feel as though driving lessons are failing them for a life spent out on the open road.

As many as 29% aged 18-30 said they were unprepared to drive alone after passing their test, a survey of 2,000 young drivers has discovered.

24% also reckoned an accident they’d already had could have been avoided had they spent longer learning to drive.

In addition, 29% felt they were not really equipped for driving at night, whilst 21% thought that their driving lessons hadn’t prepared them for driving with passengers and 14% couldn’t face driving in the rain, what with all of those windscreen wiper thingies flapping about, not to mention all of that water.

Meanwhile, the president of the AA feels that road safety education needs to become a compulsory part of the national curriculum.

This is proper shit, is this!

BIG GARDEN FESTIVAL at DANBURY The very first Big Garden Festival took place at Danbury’s Outdoor Centre on the weekend of August 10th/11th and it apparently turned out to be a huge success. There was a great crowd that gathered throughout the weekend and all of the acts were especially chosen to keep the multi-aged audience well entertained throughout the proceedings. Dan Taylor (Festival Compare) brought humour and bundles of personality to the family fun event with his cheeky smile and fun sense of humour.

Festival organisers George Hughes and Chantelle Dyson were “over the moon” at how their very first event came together and how all ages seemed to thoroughly enjoy the weekend programme laid on. Indeed, plans for Danbury’s Big Garden Festival 2014 are already in progress, as George and Chantelle look to continue the success of the event and bring still further people to Danbury to experience a real community feel-good-factor.

George would personally like to thank all of the graduates and current students from the Royal Central School of Speech & Drama for all of their support and assistance over the weekend, and very much looks forward to continuing to work closely with the RCSSD in the future.

Page 18

The Edge simply doesn’t get what on earth this space is supposed to be all about?

It’s certainly never used for anything and it’s so bland and boring to look at, which is a shame as both Loch Fyne and the apartments that overlook it are quality and deserve far better.

So who sent this nomination in?

No-one did, because you’re all clearly rubbish and presumably you walk around with your eyes closed, so yet again your editor had to get up off his arse and do it all himself, which is clearly why this is such a brilliant Shit Chelmsford! candidate.

The area in question is overseen by Countrywide Property management and they must be as clueless as you lot, readers, because all they tell us about the area is what we mustn’t use it for; such as no ball games, no cycling and definitely no skateboarding, let alone any shaking shitting dogs.

However, The Edge thinks they’ve got it all wrong, for it could definitely see Chandlers Builders Merchants dropping a whole load of sand

off in it for ladies to play beach volleyball at lunchtimes.

Now is The Edge right or is The Edge right in thinking that such would surely right draw in the local crowds (albeit perhaps the wrong sort of mob, come to think of it)?

Have any of you dozy lot got any suggestions, hmmmmm?

You know, appertaining to anything...as in anything at all?

Because this space is currently blank for November and it would be oh so nice if some of you could rouse yourselves out of your abject slumber and give Shit Chelmsford! just a teensy weeny bit of thought. shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

The Edge 077 646 797 44

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Serving food in Chelmsford since 1950 Robinson’s traditional fish & chip shop in Moulsham Street has recently undergone a refurbishment

by Emstrey Carpentry and is now far more of an all-round eatery and take-away outlet that even offers WiFi. Fourth generation family owner Paul Robinson and his team have grown the business into a fully fledged catering operation that these days supplies buffets for all occasions.

What’s more, they recently won and secured the preferred supplier

www.theedgemag.co.uk

status for Chelmsford City Council, specialising in business lunches, to name but one organisation from the wide range of business luncheon clients who consistently choose Robinson’s innovative platters.

The exhaustive choice of food on offer ranges from jacket potatoes, fresh sandwiches and wraps, salad cart, fish, chicken, chips, pies, sausages in batter etc. etc. etc.

“You know where you get it best,” says a very happy Paul!

Page 19

The Edge 204_The Edge 172.qxd 25/09/2013 18:04 Page 20

‘FAMILY FRIGHT NIGHT’ GETS EVEN BIGGER WITH THE INTRODUCTION OF ‘FRIGHT NIGHT XTRA’!

3D PROJECTION SHOW • SPOOKY TRAIL • FIREWORK DISPLAY • FIRE DANCERS • ZOMBIE INVASION • SPOOKY STORIES WITH ANIMAL HANDLING • WALKABOUT ENTERTAINMENT Hylands House is excited to announce not only the return of ‘Fright Night’, but totally new to 2013, the introduction of ‘Fright Night Xtra’ this Halloween!

‘Fright Night 2012’ was a sell-out evening with 2,500 guests, so this year the event is being run over two consecutive nights. The family friendly event opens its doors at 5.00pm where guests will have an hour-and-a-half to walk around and enjoy the attractions before the 3D projection show starts at 6.30pm.

Attractions include a spooky trail around the grounds of Hylands with walkabout entertainment, including fire dancers that are sure to get your blood pumping. All the family can enjoy spooky story time which involves the live animal handling of a crow, snake and a hedgehog (some say the snake is Alladin’s Jafar in disguise, whilst the crow is the very same one from Sleeping Beauty). Food and drink will be available at an additional cost.

At 6.30pm the spectacular 3D Projection Show will begin where guests can watch Hylands House burn down to the ground and magically rebuild itself, in addition to a spooky ghost invasion and much, much more. There will even be a special appearance from The Ghostbusters! Finally the evening will culminate at 7.00pm with a grand finale firework display.

New to 2013 is the introduction of an ADULTS ONLY (over 18’s) ‘Fright Night Xtra’ event which certainly turns up the scare-factor dial. Due to immense popularity and tickets that are already flying off the shelves, this event is to be extended to the Thursday night too!

Do you think YOU can survive Hylands Park after dark? The lights are off, there’s an invasion coming and we’re not at all sure whether they’re dead or alive! If you survive the night (no guarantees offered) you’ll leave wondering whether you really did witness that which you thought you just did! The evening culminates with an ‘Xtra rated’ 3D projection film and fireworks for a Halloween event that will truly be unsurpassed.

Tickets and Prices - Family Fright Night: £10 Adult, £7 Child, under 3 free. All tickets £10 on the door (if available) Fright Night Xtra: £13 Advance booking only (ID may by required).

Tickets from www.chelmsford.gov.uk/frightnight www.chelmsford.gov.uk/frightnightxtra or 01245 605555 NB - Torches are essential as the lighting within the trail will be dim. All torches will need to be switched off before the show against the front of Hylands House.

Some of the event takes place on the grass (including the viewing area for the show) so appropriate footwear advised.

The event will go ahead in all but the most extreme weather. Umbrellas are permitted but gazebos, wind breaks and other structures are not.

EP MC8;O EPMA8BPA Tel: 01245 905 805 www.webwax.co.uk www.twitter/ webwaxdesign www.facebook.com/ webwaxdesign 26 Broomfield Road, Chelmsford, Essex CM1 1SW Page 20

LETTERS & EMAILS to THE EDITOR

Dearest Jo, You’re just going to have to take this Beaulieu Park delivery malarkey on the chin as BP dwellers are a cut above the rest of us and expect to be waited on hand and foot.

Edge Bloke!

WEST COUNTRY EDGE Ay Up Edge Bloke, Whilst away for the weekend I spotted an Edge magazine in the Old Anchor pub in Upton-underSevern. Though undoubtedly a lovely part of the country, the mag itself is not a patch on Chelmsford’s very own.

Keep up the good work!

Clive Nicks.

FRESHLY DELIVERED EDGE Dear Edge, Whilst visiting a friend who lives in Beaulieu Park, I was surprised when her butler brought in a copy of a freshly DELIVERED edition of my favourite local mag. She explained that her monthly fix was regularly dropped through their designer letterbox.

Well, it's not delivered to the working classes in Chelmer Village and Springfield, I can tell you. We have to drag ourselves to the workhouse or on public transport to pick up our copies. (I'm feeling a bit hard done by at the moment as I'm laid up at present, unable to go to the gym, so have missed picking up my regular copy.)

As I left Beaulieu Park, I saw a man lugging loads of copies of The Edge around in a trolley. The poor chap. Have you seen how many steps there are up to some of those houses, not to mention the length of those drives? But hey, I guess it keeps someone in employment and off-the-streets.

So come on, Edge, for goodness sake. Why play into the traditional concept of the class structure?

Why does the posh end of Chelmsford get their Edge landing with a soft thud on their Axminster whilst the rest of us have to expend some of our hard earned shoe leather/manmade fibre to get a copy?

I just don't get it. Well, actually, I do, just not through my letterbox.

Awaiting your reply.

Flabbergasted in Chelmer Village.

It’s a total bloody disgrace, is that, Clive. And edited by someone called Michael Abu-Zalaf, I note. Tut, how can you edit a mag with a name like that? E.E.

NAMED & SHAMED Dear Edge, Look what I have to put up with every day...

His name is Rob Barber and he works for us and I have to tell him to pull his pants up every single day. If ever a bloke deserved to be named and shamed, it’s Rob! Steve Holloway Bakers of Danbury You’re not wrong there, lad. Tis a proper arse-and-a-half is that one, sir. The type of arse you’d imagine the owner of such would honestly want to keep hidden from sight. Tut, some folk/builders, eh?

E.E. The Edge 077 646 797 44

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Talk about hitting the ground running...

Laura Watson’s Kids & Koffee only opened at the tail end of August, yet already it’s proving to be a huge hit with local mums and dads.

“I knew there was a need for a Kids & Koffee in Chelmsford,” she says, “because I’m a mum too.

However, what I didn’t expect was for it to take off quite the way it has!”

Laura’s a bit like the Pied Piper and she hadn’t even had time to pour your editor one of her lovely Wega coffees before mums and

Laura Watson is the brains and the beans behind Kids & Koffee dads were streaming through the doors when The Edge visited her at 9.30am one recent Tuesday morning, so it decided to take the opportunity to have a word with some of the clientele instead.

“Kids & Koffee is such a perfect size,” said Superboy’s mum, aka Ollie, “and the best bit about it is that you don’t have to be constantly supervising your kids.”

Such sentiments were echoed by a lone dad who turned up with his son and a newspaper tucked craftily beneath his arm. “I can hardly let him run amok in Starbucks, can I?” he said, grinning.

“We genuinely love what we provide and we want everyone else to love it too,” says Laura. “That’s why we even asked our mums and dads what they’d like to see on our menu.”

Such includes half-a-jacket spud (as well as whole ones) for £1.75 and beans on toast for £1.50 as The Edge 01245 348256

Kids & Koffee was almost packed to capacity within an hour of opening! well as Kids & Koffee Food Bags for £4.00 inc. sandwiches, carrot, celery and cucumber sticks, fruit, crisps, yoghurt and a Milky Way. The fun is ABSOLUTELY FREE for pre-crawlers, just £2 for kiddiwinkles up to 2 years of age, and £3.50 for those aged 2-8 for 90 minutes, although Laura isn’t so strict on the time limit so long as Kids & Koffee isn’t full to their absolute capacity of 30 children at any one time.

So if you’re a mum or a dad, you know what to do, don’t you? Check out Kids & Koffee soon!

Parents & kids just love Kids & Koffee!

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ONLY JOKING! Bad Name

“You know who really gives kids a bad name, don’t you?”

“Who?” “Posh and Becks.”

Little Toe I met a girl at a party last nite. I said, "You remind me of my little toe."

She said, "Small and petite?"

I said, “No. I'll probably bang you later on the table when I'm pissed.”

Same-Sex Marriage I’m in a same-sex marriage in so far as the sex is always the bloody same.

Porn Site My missus says that if she ever finds me on a porn site again she’ll bang my head against the feckin’ keyboarcchhjjddfhurbbghjbhdsfjkuvnv#d!

On Safari with the Mother-in-Law A big game hunter went on a safari with his wife and mother-in-law.

One morning, while still deep in the jungle, the hunter's wife awoke to find her mother not there.

So she woke her husband and they both set off in search of the old bag.

In a clearing, not far from the camp, they came upon a chilling sight. The mother-in-law was standing face to face with a ferocious lion.

"Christ, what are we going to do now?” his horrified wife asked.

"Nothing," her husband replied. "That lion got itself into this mess, so it’ll just have to get itself out."

(An oldie but a goodie!)

Crap Genie Joke A guy is walking along a beach when he comes across a lamp partially buried in the sand. So he picks it up and gives it a rub and (surprise, surprise, not) a genie appears and tells him he has been granted but one wish.

So the guy thinks for a minute and says, "I’d like to live forever."

"Sorry," says the genie, "but I'm not allowed to grant you eternal life."

"OK, then,” says the guy, quick as a flash, “then I want to die after the government balances the budget and eliminates the debt.”

"Well you crafty basket," said the genie.

Crap History Joke A slave call girl from Sardinia named Gedophamee was attending a great, but as yet unnamed, athletic festival 2500 years ago in Greece.

In those days, believe it or not, the athletes performed naked.

To prevent unwanted arousal while competing, the men imbibed freely of drink containing saltpeter before and throughout the variety of events.

At the opening ceremonial parade, Gedophamee observed the first wave of naked magnifi-

cent males marching towards her and she exclaimed: "Oh! Limp pricks!"

Over the next two and a half millenniums, that morphed into: Olympics.

In Memorium Sad news from the Nestles factory. A member of staff died when a pallet of chocolate fell more than 50ft and crushed him underneath. Though the man tried in vain to attract the attention of his colleagues, every time he shouted, "The milky bars are on me..." everyone just laughed.

Not Exactly How The Edge Remembers Them...

Mary had a little pig, She kept it fat and plastered; When the price of pork went up, she shot the fecking bast...

Mary had a little lamb, Her father shot it dead.

Now it goes to school with her, Between two chunks of bread.

Simple Simon met a Pie Man going to the fair.

Said Simple Simon to the Pie Man, “What have you got there?”

Said the Pie Man unto Simon, “A pies you daft, stupid, simple twat.”

Non Alcoholic Beer Drinking non-alcoholic beer is just like going down on your sister. It tastes the same, but something’s just not right...

Take Three Women Three women and three men are travelling by train from Chelmsford to London.

At the station, the three men each buy a ticket and observe as the three women buy just one.

"How are the three of you going to travel on just one ticket?" asks one of the men.

"Watch and learn, boys," answer the women.

As they all board the train the three men take their respective seats, but all three women cram into a toilet together and close the door.

Shortly after the train has departed, the ticket collector comes around. He knocks on the toilet door and says, "Ticket, please."

The door opens just a crack and a single arm emerges with ticket in hand.

The conductor clips it and moves on.

The men watch this happen and agree that it is quite a clever idea and decide that the following week, when they next need to catch the train, they will do exactly the same thing in order to save some money.

So the following week they get to the station and purchase a single ticket for their return trip, but to their utter astonishment see that the same three women don't buy any tickets at all.

"How are you going to travel without even ONE ticket?" says one of the perplexed men.

"Watch and learn, boys," they answer.

When they board the train, the three men cram themselves into a toilet and the three women cram themselves into the toilet opposite.

Shortly after the train starts rolling, one of the women leaves the girl’s cubicle and walks over to the toilet in which the men are all hiding.

She then knocks on the door and says in a deep, authorative voice, "Ticket, please."

Ardent Student A teacher asked her class, “Why do women live far more peaceful lives than men?”

A student replied, “Because women don’t have wives to contend with.”

Royal Baby Malarkey All of this Royal baby Malarkey is bringing back some particularly bad memories for me.

For instance, the last time I was third in line to the throne, I ended up shitting myself in Pizza Hut.

Caught In The Act A man returns home a day early from a business trip. It's just after midnight. Whilst en route he asked the cabby if he would be a witness as the guy strongly suspected that his wife was having an affair and he wanted to catch her in the act. For £50 the cabby agreed.

Quietly arriving home, the husband and cabby tip-toed upstairs into the bedroom. The husband then switched on the light, yanked the blanket back, and there was his wife in bed with another man!

The husband immediately put a gun to the naked man's head, but his wife shouted, "Don't!

Don’t do it! I lied to you when I told you I inherited that money. He paid for the Porsche I gave you for your birthday. He paid for our little boat.

He paid for your Chelmsford City season ticket.

He paid for our house by the lake. He paid for our Country Club membership. And he even pays your monthly dues at Channels!"

Shaking his head from side-to-side, the husband lowers the gun and looks over at the cabby.

"What would you do?" he asked him.

The cabby replied, "I'd cover his arse with the duvet before he catches a cold."

Remember This Era? It was a hot Saturday evening in the summer of 1960 and Fred had a date with Peggy Sue. He arrived at her house and rang the bell.

"Oh, come on in!" Peggy Sue's mother said as she welcomed Fred. "Have a seat in the living room. Would you like something to drink?

Lemonade? Iced Tea, perhaps?"

"Iced tea, please, Mrs. Sue," said Fred.

"So what are you and our Pegatha planning to do tonight?" she asked him.

"Oh, we’ll probably just catch a movie and then grab a bite to eat at Fat Sam’s Diner. Then maybe take a stroll on the beach...."

Mrs Sue contemplated this for a moment before saying, "Peggy likes to screw, you know."

Fred almost choked on his Iced Tea. "Uh...really?" he spluttered, with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, yes!" Pegatha’s mother repled. "When she goes out with her friends, that's all they do."

"Is that so?" said Fred, incredulous.

"As a matter of fact,” continued her mother, “she'd screw all night long if we’d let her."

"Well, thanks for the tip," said Fred as he immediately began thinking about alternative plans for the evening.

A moment later, Peggy Sue appeared looking pretty as a picture, wearing an innocent pink blouse and full circle skirt, with her hair tied back in a bouncy ponytail.

She greeted Fred with a kiss on his cheek.

"Have fun, kids," her mother called as they left.

But an hour later, a completely disheveled Peggy Sue bursts back into the house and slammed the front door hard behind her.

"It’s called the twist, Mom!" she angrily yelled at her mother. "The damned dance is called THE TWIST!”

Married Men When a married man says, “I’ll think about it,” what he really means is that he hasn’t had the opportunity to ask his wife for permission yet.

More next month, folks!

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

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LIFT-OFF FOR CJ @ TST CJ of TST (see below) first started treating within the Chelmsford area in the summer of 2008 after completing her BSc (Hons) Degree in Sports Therapy. She originally carried out personal training sessions for clients in numerous local gyms, but has recently moved from David Lloyd’s in Basildon to Virgin Active in Chelmsford. CJ quickly discovered that although she enjoyed offering one-on-one personal training sessions to clients, the large corporate gym environment was simply not the place for her, and therefore started to offer PT freelance both residentially and in the great outdoors.

In May 2012, CJ decided to take the plunge and go full-time as a Sports Therapy & Fitness Trainer only and within 6 months, one of her clients told her about an industrial unit on Navigation Road that would be perfect for a clinic and fitness studio. When CJ first visited the premises to inspect it, she wondered whether her client had been having her on, especially the bit about: “But it’ll need and little bit of work doing to it!”

Sure enough though, planning permission was quickly approved and work began to build two treatment rooms, a kitchen, bathroom and fitness studio for CJ’s personal training sessions and small group fitness classes.

In October 2012, Total Sports Therapy opened its doors for the very first time to the public, welcoming CJ’s regular clients, plus a few new faces into the bargain, and it’s simply blossomed from there.

“It’s been an interesting past 12 months,” says CJ, “and I can honestly say I have learned a lot about running a business during that period, especially so far as going it alone is concerned. There is a lot to be said for the support of your family and friends, that’s for sure, and I am not too proud to say I couldn’t have done it without either of them!

“My focus for the next year is to encourage more group classes and have a multi-disciplinary practice, where different therapies can work together all under one roof. With an Osteopath and a Physiotherapist due to start renting my second treatment room soon, there is still space for one more dedicated professional if you feel you, or someone you know, may fit into our specialist team.

“Why not come and have a look at our set-up and see if we can help you achieve your own personal goals?

“Also please keep an eye on our website for details of our Fitness Fiesta in association with the Coaching Conundrum and Run Active.”

www.totalsportstherapy.co.uk

HALLOWEEN CIDER FESTIVAL Saturday 26th October Over 15 Real Ciders & 6 Real Ales!

‘The Three Elms’ will have it’s very own SPOOKY atmosphere and ghoulish offerings, with Fancy Dress being optional.

‘LIVE’ band ‘GUNRUNNER’ will be playing in the evening.

Food will be served 12-3pm and 5-8pm Please Book!

Prizes of bubbly for best fancy dress www.the-three-elms.com 01245 443151 Chignal St. James, Nr. Chelmsford, CM1 4TZ.

From Sprains to Pains and everything in between!!

Sports Injury Treatment Postural Correction

Holistic Treatments

Sports Massage

Rehabilitation

Spinal Manipulation Electro-Therapy

Running Club

Yoga Kettlebells

Group Exercise

Personal Training Bootcamp/Pilates/Yoga/Martial Arts Fitness Classes Booking Required as Spaces are Limited.

£5 off any Treatment or Training with CJ with this ad.

T&C apply. Use by 1st December 2013 shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

Page 23

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TOTALLY TRACIE

£89 £8 89

+vat

251001 01245 2510 001

www.printingplace.co.uk www w w ww w.printin ngplac ngplace.co ce.c co.uk .uk PPage 24

THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT Have you ever felt brave enough, after a few glasses of wine, only the following morning, in the cold harsh light of day, regretted your big mouth?

A few months ago my friend and I were watching one of those ‘Ghost Hunting’ programmes and prompted by one too many glasses of plonk we decided to book ourselves on a ‘Fright Night’. We found one on the internet, duly paid our £60 each fee and promptly forgot all about it. But then just the other Saturday we got a reminder that we were booked in for a ‘Ghost Hunting Night’ at Coalhouse Fort, which is a disused fort in Tilbury. You know that sinking feeling you get when you really wished you hadn’t? Coalhouse Fort has quite a history and is supposedly the most haunted place in Essex. It has miles and miles of underground tunnels with little tunnels and doorways leading off each of them. It’s also pitch black down there with no electricity or windows. Soldiers used to work in complete darkness below ground, often dying in the tunnels. It must have been a truly sad existence.

My friend Jo and I arrived at 9pm prompt to meet our guide, along with our trusty torches. We were both egging each other on, but underneath we were wondering just what the hell we had let ourselves in for? So I said to the guide, who apparently had been hunting ghosts on this particular site since 2002, “Have you ever actually seen anything?” “Well no,” he said, “not with my eyesight.” I looked a little closer at him and saw he was wearing glasses with lenses the size of milk bottle bottoms. The man was partially blind! Sensing my disappointment, he quickly said, “But I once heard something!” “Heard what?” asked I? “A woman’s laughter and moaning in 2003,” he replied, excitedly. “And that’s it?”

I said. “Yes,” he confirmed, “at about 1am in the morning”.

What I didn’t like to mention is that behind the fort is a public park, but why tread on people’s dreams?

We were eventually taken to meet the rest of the team which consisted of a Demonologist and a Medium and oh what a funny bunch they were. The Demonologist talked about how he had wrestled demons and performed exorcisms with holy water and never left home without a ‘Mini Exorcism Kit’. To be honest I thought about asking him if he would nip round and perform one on ‘Him Indoors’.

The Demonologist got us to stand in a circle holding hands and imagine a bright orange glow around us which would supposedly protect us from any spirit possessions. I happened to look up at this point and saw a few ‘Essex Girls’ with bright orange glows alright! The idea was that we were all going to walk about down below in

two sperate groups and see if we could make contact with any spirits. So off into the tunnels we went. We stopped quite a way down, turned out our torches and stood in complete silence, not to mention darkness, and began calling out to spirits.

Nothing. So we went still deeper into the tunnels and ended up standing in a circle, holding hands, calling out to the spirit world. Still nothing. Not even a peep. Two blinkin’ hours later in the pitch black in supposedly the most haunted part of the fort (the men’s toilets, no less) and there was not even a hint of a ghost, which were apparently well known for throwing stones at visitors. So, in desperation, I called out, “Throw a stone at me!” half expecting a brick to immediately hit me on the head.

But not a thing.

SWe were all a bit fed up and close to dying of boredom ourselves, when the Demonologist suddenly went into a trancelike state. He began speaking of a woman from the 15th Century who was deemed an ‘Unfortunate’, better known these days as a ‘lady of the night’. He gave a long speech about this lady being fed fresh peaches from one of the soldiers and how they had come to call her Peaches and often teased her. Working himself up into a right proper frenzy, he was definitely well into his story, so I asked him to confirm the time period once again. “1518,” he replied.

Ummmm, well, as every school kid of my generation surely knows, peaches and exotic fruits only became widely available in the 20th Century and canned peaches were only given to First World War soldiers in 1915. Major flaw, but I let him exhaust himself until he collapsed in a heap on the floor. After all, who am I to be a party pooper? So we all went to have a cup of tea and at this point the Orange Glow Ladies departed, feigning tiredness, although I swear they were really off to the local nightclub to find some living Zombies in Tilbury, which shouldn’t have been hard.

This left just me and Jo, who also wanted to go, but I was adamant that for my £60 I wanted to see a ghost! So back down the W tunnels we went for yet another 2 hours of spirit calling in the pitch black. The Medium in the group brought a thermometer and promptly began to test Jo. Her left arm was 57 degrees and her right knee was 40 degrees. The woman jumped in jubilation, shrieking, “We have paranormal activity around this woman...we have a fluctuation in temperature.” Jo pointed out that she was in fact wearing a padded thermal jacket, so her arms were retaining heat, whereas her thin cotton trousers were not, and she was standing in the draught with her knees knocking together from the cold.

Thus the Medium went off in a huff!

Another hour dragged by, so we began humming, as humming is supposed to raise the vibrations which ghosts apparently love. We also sang and we chanted, until we were all sung and chanted out, so once again we were left to sit in the gloom, twiddling our thumbs. Hell, we even called out to the spirits to touch us, but still nothing. Then the Demonologist came up with the bright idea that he would perform a witchcraft spell and sing a witchcraft song whilst we swayed and danced to the tune and it was at this point I decided that enough was enough! Witchcraft, in my opinion, is not something to be dabbled or trifled with. I mean, where would it all end?

Black cats, frogs, pointy hats....it’s a slippery slope to be sure.

As we left the fort and drove down the deserted road at 3am, we saw quite a few drunken women laughing and screaming by the docks, before two guys jumped out of nowhere in front of our car and hurled a bottle of beer in our direction. You see, in Tilbury, it’s not the dead you have to worry about.

So do ghosts exist? Not in supposedly the most haunted place in Essex, they don’t.

Tracie123@aol.com

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shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

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BABY FACES & BIG BALLS According to Danish scientists, people who look younger than their years actually end up living longer than their more haggard looking counterparts. Apparently, this is because young looking people have more ‘Telemores’ in their DNA which give your cells the ability to regenerate, much like my namesake Wolverine from the X-Men. I do actually look younger than I am and have always been cursed with a baby-face rather than immediately looking ruggedly-handsome, like Clint Eastwood used to look in his heyday, as soon as I turned 18, which is what I fully expected to happen (and I’m still waiting, unfortunately). Strangely enough, I’ve always felt younger than I actually am as well, both physically and mentally, and I constantly have to remind myself that for god’s sake, I’m nearly 40 and not still 20.

Unfortunately this also leads me to think that other people are always older than I am and this has got me into hot water with womenfolk on numerous occasions.

Unfortunately I look more like this One of the researchers involved, a Dr. Christensen, did admit that the shorter lifespans of my older looking brethren might just be down to the fact that they’ve had a harder life and therefore they’d obviously look a lot more knackered, which, while perfectly logical, is disappointingly prosaic compared to having the DNA of an X-Man. Another interesting study also linked the role of fatherhood to the size of a man’s testicles. Research suggests that men with smaller testicles are more likely to want to be fathers, whereas those of us with a magnificent and sumptuous pair of plums are far more likely to enjoy the act of baby-making, rather than the 18 odd years of horrendous bullshit that comes after it.

As most of you know, I personally enjoy the ownership of very large (singular) bollock and, in my case at least, the findings of this research are certainly correct. Taking both sets of research into account, it seems I’m fortunately destined to live for a long time whilst having ALL the sex I could ever wish for, and some of it possibly even with women.

I can only assume that the latter will start any time soon and I’ve just been saving up to give me something to enjoy during my twilight years. Still, at least my ‘Telemore’ count means I can afford to be a little patient, I guess.

THE ADDICTION AFFLICTION We’re all addicted to something or other, whether we know it or not.

Obviously it’s not something any of us admit to and even now I’m sure

Page 26

ME & MY adamantium skeleton

The Kingmeister reports some of you are scoffing at the idea and, more than likely, casting aspersions on my ancestry for even bringing this matter up in the first place.

But the fact of the matter is that you, me, and everyone around us are addicted to something, because that’s simply how we’re designed to behave. So once again, I’m right, you’re wrong, and yes, my parents were married when they had me, thank you very much.

It’s all down to that devious lump of jelly in your head. As I’ve mentioned countless times before, and will never cease to hesitate in so doing again in the future, your brain is a dick. Not only a dick, but a scheming, lying self-obsessed dick at that, and one that has no qualms about getting you addicted to all manner of weird stuff.

When I’m talking about addiction, I’m not talking about all the usual favourites, such as cigarettes and that lovely, lovely heroin, but some slightly more esoteric addictions.

Your brain, my brain, all of our brains are addicted to pop music, whether we like it or not. Trust me, I’ll be the first to splutter indignantly at such an accusation and immediately put on some Norwegian death metal to prove that it’s bullshit, possibly the latest album by Sir Christopher Lee who has made several heavy-metal albums. Yes, seriously.

Told you so I’m actually listening to Motorhead as I write my column this month, which is as just about as whiskey-swilling and manly as music gets. However, my brain still gets an actual high from popular music.

If you’re anything like me, you’re (a) very lucky indeed, and (b) you’ve probably wondered why all that mid-

dle-of-the-road pop music is so popular. Also like me, you’ve probably always put it down to the fact that everyone else in the world is an idiot.

Unfortunately, not everyone is as stupid as we tend to think and it’s actually popular because it’s so generic sounding and predictable.

Our brains like being able to predict stuff and will reward us when we do it, so all of those bland pop songs make one portion of your brain start trying to predict the next set of beats, and then another section dumps a load of dopamine into your system

He is The One when you do so correctly.

They can use this method to assess a songs popularity and it’s so accurate that they’ve been able to predict future hits by playing them to people wired up to an MRI scanner and watching the pleasure centres of the brain light up. I’m assuming that the record companies will soon have legions of cloned teenagers in factories hooked up to MRI scanners while they get force-fed Katy Perry and Lady Gaga 24-7. It’ll be like Justin Beiber’s version of the Matrix before we know it.

Far stranger than being addicted to pop music, and probably even more embarrassing, is the fact that you can easily get addicted to lip-balm, of all things. The really disturbing thing about this (unless you have shares in

chapstick, of course) is that we get addicted to it because most lip-balms actually irritate our lips and dry them out. One of the main ingredients in most lip-balms is a substance called ‘Phenol’.

If you’re at all familiar with chemicals, then you’ll recognise Phenol as something best known for being corrosive to your skin, eyes and respiratory tract, as well as also being used in embalming fluid. If you were to inject a single gram into your body, it would also cause you to immediately die, so it’s pretty odd that so many of us enjoy slathering our lips in the stuff.

Combine that with the little rush that the added menthol ingredient gives you, coupled with the ever so nice strawberry or cherry flavour, and you actually lick your lips more when you have lip-balm on, which, of course, makes them even drier, so the first thing you do is slap on yet more of the dreaded stuff. From a marketing perspective, it’s sheer genius, whereas from our very own perspective, we’re curing our dry and irritated lips by smothering them in something that works best when it’s irritating and drying our lips out, which is totally bloody stupid.

Once you start this almost compulsive cycle and add in the always favourite oral fixations most of us have (oh do get your minds out of the gutter, please), it’s truly not hard to see how this can be seen as a legitimate addiction.

What oral fixation?

It’s similar to our addiction to spicy foods, which is caused by the active ingredients irritating the trigeminal nerve, which in turn is responsible for ALL of the sensation in your entire face. We irritate the trigeminal nerve with a Vindaloo, so our brain dumps a load of endorphins into our faces to give us a natural high to combat the pain. It’s not hard to see how these cycles of pain and pleasure lead to addictive behaviour really, but it’s also a fairly good indicator that, on some level at least, we’re all secretly deviant sado-masochists at heart.

I’m actually perfectly comfortable with that and it won’t be the first time I’ll have made use of some Vaseline in the bedroom, or a Vindaloo for that matter.

The Edge 01245 348256

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IT DRIVES YOU CRAZY

fill, a fee to pay, and finally you get a temporary Learner Permit. The actual credit card sized license arrives a few days later in the mail.

So here’s a thing....

Next step is a compulsory five hour safety lecture. You phone a local driving school and book a Saturday appointment. As it happens the five hours is more like three, and that includes 45 minutes for lunch. The lecture is mainly a rant about the evils of drink and drugs, but you have to sit through it to get your certificate.

After 40 plus years of driving, I’ve finally passed my test. That sentence is stretching the truth to make a (mildly) amusing point of course, but having a driving license in the US is a major step in your integration into the country.

In the UK you only get your driving license out in two situations. Firstly, you’ve been pulled over by the police, and secondly, when you want to rent a car. At all other times it remains, collecting cobwebs, firmly in your wallet or handbag. Younger people have a third use for it - to prove they are old enough to throw up in the street, but that one doesn’t really count for the general populace.

This might sound a bit over the top, but over here, the possession of a driving license is the only real proof that you exist as a person. You are asked for ID in many places. For example, opening a bank account, taking out insurance or even just gaining access to an office block where you have a pre-arranged appointment. In all of these cases, they expect you to have a driving license to show you are who you say you are.

Non Resident Aliens, like myself, have to resort to carrying their passport around the whole time, and even then, a passport is looked upon suspiciously by poorly educated security officers who know a driving license when they see one, but get a bit flummoxed when presented with a big maroon book.

Bear in mind that the vast majority of Americans do not possess a passport, so it’s not surprising that the driving license, the one government issued document that everyone holds, has taken on such importance.

Even though I have no need of a car in Manhattan, but knowing all of the aforesaid, I decided, “I gotta get me one of those”, to quote a line from some film or other.

Here’s the deal. You have to take a theory test, just as you do in the UK, but it’s a very simple paper with 20 multiple choice questions and you only need to get 14 of them right to pass. It really is that easy, but there are local rules that aren’t obvious to a Brit, so you do need to read the manual first.

Having spent a whole afternoon studying the manual, you fill in a form and take it to the local Department of Motor Vehicles with proof of ID. Ha! Ironic, no?

Then you stand in line for half-an-hour to take your theory test. Assuming you pass, you stand in a different line for another half-an-hour to have your picture taken. And then the serious waiting starts. You have a numbered ticket, like at the meat counter in Sainsbury’s, and wait for maybe three hours until your turn comes. More forms to

S N V

CHINESE CUISINE

Armed with your Learner Permit and Safety Course Certificate you can now book a driving test. If you have neither a car nor an authorised driver to accompany you, this poses a bit of a problem. No fear, the driving school will take care of all this for a substantial fee. Yippee.

Come the day of the test you book an hour with an instructor to teach you the local rules and expectations, then go to the test site, which fortunately is not on Manhattan but out in the suburbs a bit. It’s a first come first served situation, so you park in a line, and the examiners work their way through the queue. The test is ridiculously easy literally a rectangular course around three blocks.

You need to do a three point turn - known here as a ‘broken U’ - and a parallel park, and as long as you don’t touch the kerb with either of those, and haven’t killed any pedestrians, that’s just about enough to get you through. Five minutes top to bottom.

The total cost? $425, and that’s with just a solitary hour of driving instruction, remember. But £300 is a small price to pay to prove you exist, it seems to me. Now, do you want to hear about the motor cycle test?

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The Edge’s ex-accountant - simply due to retirement - one Francis Butler.

1954 Rover P4 90 Drophead Dearest Francis had been promising he’d take me to lunch in his Rover Drophead for the past couple of years, when just last month, out of the blue, it finally happened.

“We need a nice day because it’s a drophead,” he kept on repeating.

To tell you the truth, I didn’t really know what he was warbling on about. A drophead. What’s a bloody drophead?

Oh, a convertible/softop, he must have meant. Well why didn’t he say so?

When he turned up in it at ‘Edge Towers’, distracted as I was by his peaked ‘serious vintage motorist’ cap and tablecloth shirt, I have to say I was pretty impressed about everything barring his fashion sense.

At first glance, Frank’s pride possession kind of looks like a baby Bentley, don’t you think?

And it had no seatbelts, no head restraints and a pull-out choke (“Be careful you don’t flood it!”).

But the most jaw-dropping news of all (are you sitting down for this one, readers?) is that only two - yes two - of these motors were only ever made.

How about that? I mean, truly, isn’t that something?

The story is that Rover commissioned a bloke called Sergio Pininfarina (of the Pininfarina Design House, which is Italian, of course) to rebody two Rover P4 75’s - one as a fixedhead (i.e. with a roof on) and one as a drophead (without). The drophead version was actually displayed at the 1953 Earls Court Motor Show (and your editor actually went to a Motor Show at Earls Court, back when I

was about 10, so that’s how old I am) and was so well received that Rover thought: “Eeee by gum” and decided to approach Mulliner of Birmingham to replicate the Italian bodied drophead version in aluminium - as opposed to steel - on a 1954 Rover 90 vehicle base.

And the result, ladies and gentlemen, is the car you see above, only because it’s made out of aluminium and it’s counterpart is fully steel bodied, that, to The Edge at least, makes Frank’s car absolutely unique....a bit like the Batmobile.

(Incidentally the steel-bodied drophead is owned by a dentist in Canterbury).

The reason why Rover never mass produced this vehicle is simply because the costs to build Frank’s car proved far too prohibitive, and with the addition of 50% purchase tax (at that time), Rover deduced that the market would not bear the ultimate price.

So what’s it worth now?

“How long’s a piece of string?” counters Frank, although when further pressed estimated that it could be anything between £35,000 to £75,000. “It all depends on how much somebody really wants to buy it.”

Huff. I know what I’d do with that sort of money, if someone gave it to me (dream on) on the strict condition that it simply had to be spend it on a motor car. I’d get me the best second-hand Porsche Panamera S (as I’m assuming a new one is in excess of £75k?) that money could buy and leave blokes like Frank to their own peculiar devices.

>4: (&3 &(9:&11> 5&70 >4:7 (

The Edge’s dream car a Porsche Panamera S! Page 28

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THE ANSWERS TO LIFE, THE UNIVERSE & CARROTS In my hand I hold a device capable of accessing almost the entirety of all human knowledge. We all have one.

I’m referring to my ’phone, of course.

By using Google to search the internet there is very little I would struggle to research quickly. Whether I wanted to know who played the title song to Top Gear or I needed to find a formula for Microsoft Excel, then the chances are that I have virtually instant access to the answers.

But the thing of it is that despite having such easy access to endless amounts of knowledge, we haven’t all become experts in our chosen fields. We don’t all know the history of industrial Britain and we can’t all adequately explain quantum mechanics. Hell, I still don’t even understand basic mechanics.

The omniscient electronic devices we all carry are instead used for nattering to our friends and telling social websites what we had for breakfast. Instead of absorbing the wealth of documented knowledge already available to us, we have just added a wealth of trivia to it. For each and every life changing, mankindimproving piece of knowledge published on the internet, there are probably two million photos of cats.

I am personally one of the worst offenders for adding such content. Only recently I posted a photo of some carrots that had grown in my garden. Did this add anything to the world or progress? Was it a noteworthy photograph? Did it inspire someone to write a song or create a work of art about it? Did it resolve any wars?

The simple answer is no. It was just a picture of some carrots. Mostly orange in colour. Even traffic lights are at least three times more exciting than that.

In the grand scheme of things, it really was one of the most trivial and inconsequential moments that has ever happened in the history of the Earth, yet I still used my

shaun@theedgemag.co.uk

“Recently I posted a photograph of some carrots I grew in my garden on the internet.” pocket sized all-knowledge machine to share such a moment with both friends and acquaintances.

That said, my unimpressively unimportant carrots have this been digitally documented and in hundreds of years time historians may discover these records and end up pondering what sort of a culture would feel the need to document small crooked carrots.

So what does that say about us?

More to the point, what does it say about me?

Years ago, before the internet, when grumpy cats didn’t become famous and you only knew what someone was having for breakfast if you happened to be sat right next to them, I had to learn how to use a computer from books, teachers, and friends. Since the internet, I simply use Google to find all of the answers that I need. Generally speaking, if I have an issue with a piece of software, someone else has already had that

by Robert Rutherford

self same issue, solved it, and posted the answer somewhere so that I can subsequently become an expert in minutes. Thus I no longer need to learn the route to the solution as I can simply go straight to the answer. But will this access to knowledge replace the need to actually learn something? Will we become collectively intelligent, yet individually stupid?

Before I had a mobile ’phone I used to know everyone’s ’phone numbers off the top of my head. Back then I would have been in contact far less with people, yet I remembered everyone’s number from having to dial them. However, now that I am in contact with those same people far more often, I have absolutely no clue as to what anyone’s ’phone number is. I simply rely upon my ’phone knowing everyone’s number. I also tend to rely upon sat nav to get me where I’m going rather than ever learning the route anywhere, plus I’m ever more reliant on autospell when using my ’phone.

Imagine a pub quiz where everyone was allowed to use their ’phones to access the internet for the answers.

Who would win? Everyone would get 100% (except Mr Edge who doesn’t even know how to use his ’phone).

The pub quiz would be pointless as everyone would be equal. So if we no longer need to memorise the answers to anything, will we still bother to learn anything, or will we end up reliant upon what the internet knows on our behalf?

My little boy and his entire generation are growing up in a world where they are able to have instant answers to any question. I wonder if this will empower them to constantly expand their knowledge, or if it will simply mean that they will never need to. Maybe, just like us, they’ll simply find new ways to document their breakfast and look at photos of cats that appear to be in a bit of an odd mood.

Page 29

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The internationally renowned and culturally exquisite Edinburgh Festival was once again upon us this August, writes James Wood. It’s difficult to sum up such diversity in a very few words, but I draw upon one show to help express the creative genius and intellectual brilliance that dominates the festival. I speak of The Ladyboys of Bangkok, of course, who once again delivered one of the best evenings that the festival had to offer.

The show is situated in a huge marquee in a park in the centre of the city and is nearly always sold out. You are greeted at the door by several dwarfs who show you to your table where you can order drinks and watch the show with your friends. The show itself is cabaret, but not your traditional sort; they focus on parodies of popular contemporary artists, such as Lady Gaga and Psy, whilst also writing some of their own songs, as well as parodying books and films, such as Fifty Shades of Grey.

I had set myself a mission this year to find how these Ladyboys manage to confuse my sexuality so much! They are utterly convincing as women and you would not easily be able to differentiate them from any other woman, and that is the truth. This year I attempted to get a little closer to them than usual with the intention of snapping a photo, but they wished to charge me five pounds for the privilege, and so, being a poor student, I immediately declined (after all: when in Scotland).

All was not lost, however, as there were a lot of adverts in the tent for a nightclub that The Ladyboys all apparently frequent after their show, so I thought I’d saunter on down there to see if I could get a hold of one of them. What a thoroughly stupid idea that turned out to be. I scarcely believed they had previously been men during the show, so how could I have expected to determine who was a ladyboy at the nightclub and who was just a lady? So, for pure fear of not wanting to insult any Thai ladies that might have been visiting the Scottish capital for the festival, I immediately ditched my quest and began to sulk instead. Since then I have had to resort to looking up such information on the internet, but I often find myself astounded at what I’m doing with my time, and that’s where my search usually ends.

What you must remember with a show like The Ladyboys of Bangkok is that it’s not a show that plays upon the fact that it features ladyboys. When going to a show such as this, many people assume that that’s its only draw.

However, it is an incredibly entertaining piece of theatre in its own right, aside from the fact that it features incredibly convincing ladyboys. Their show enables these ladyboys to earn a relatively decent living which they might find difficult otherwise. They also get to see the world and entertain millions through their performance, rather than by their sexuality alone.

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