HEAR'SAY

Hello again dear friends and other members of the national tabloids. And yes, as I write this column Sheringham is indeed in the fore - front of the nations minds as a national park for wildlife. Not only on land but renown now, for its aquatic connections with Hollywood as well! Not content with having a central Giant Panda enclosure at Shering-Henge, we also have had a million and one twitchers twitching, or what ever it is they do around town and the local area. This tripled with the Great White encounter one wonders when we'll get our visit from Skippy, Yogi and Booboo! Yes folks just when you thought it was safe to enter the beautiful Sheringham Foreshore one soon encounters the horrific realisation of just how bad things have gotten underfoot along the West End. Together on grass, shingle and promenade. In the few hundred yards it took to walk to see the half eaten carcass of a seal at the lifeboat slipway from the Crown, we encountered almost 100 parcels of doo of which every conceivable kind of canine gastric problem known to dog and mankind could be measured! I say canine; of course I may have misdiagnosed the faecal matter, as it could be the resultant dollops from some form of new species of giant beach beetle after it's weekly constitutional stroll along the seafront. Or just perhaps some sort of new primeval species keeps travelling through time, materialises trough a time portal anomaly, notices that there are most probably great whites in the area, and decides to scarper back from whence it came. And sharpish before a " Sun" reporter spotted it, embellished the story, and made out it was responsible for the break in at Woolworth's! Never mind eh? It's almost as believable as the Country getting a new Prime Minister without an election! In England Never! Never mind brothers, every brother is equal here except some are more equal than others. Unless we're talking about street lighting, in which case the Woolworth's side of High Street is most definitely taken a turn for the dark side. I'm afraid it's true. If you want to see what Grockle pavement dressing you've just slipped in, you will need a light sabre and or a wind up torch to navigate that stretch of the pavement after teatime. And most certainly the dark side was encountered when one of our High Street chains was burgled the other day or should I say night. It does however conjure up for me a wry smile as I imagined in this twisted mind of mine that the only thing worth nicking in there was the pick and mix! I must admit that I was momentarily enraged at the thought of the strawberry and raspberry plain chocy soft centres being rifled, vilified for me, these hooligans enormously. Still it all helps to keep up sleepy little Sheringham's profile. I guess with all these extra animal spotters around, we too ought to try and cash in on the theme. After all Cromer is soon about to open their Zoo. Instead of resurfacing the "new town centre" through Cromer and commissioning the spending of 80 to 90 thousand pounds on the lay-by at Pretty Corner, we could have used that extra cash that was lying around at the end of the fiscal year for Sheringham's New Preservation Society. This would be set up to protect and preserve all new faecal matter around the town for future generations to enjoy. This would encourage every owner of any animal that ever had a bowel movement to shed its load onto the streets. It will create, every year, an annual deification tournament in which participants gain special status and rewards in different categories of size, colour, texture, viscosity and odour. We would have extra points earned for the most imaginative place deposited and for secrecy of ownership. This would especially be apparent during busy times in the holiday season and could even become the most popular, memorable past time of Carnival Week. The annual winner will be I'm sure, very pleased to receive His or Her trophy on Poop-A- Scoop Sunday, dedicated, but more importantly passed by myself personally! Whereby there will be, to the delight of the crowd a veterinary demonstration on "how to constipate your pet for a year" followed by the annual school tie brigade's proverbial rubbing of the owner's nose in "it". Cheering with delight will be me at the front egging on with gusto every last smear.