 Hail comrades of Sheringham! And yes yet another summer
season is upon us. Ah yes I can see it now, hot sultry days, hot dogs and chips and best
of all hot pants! But only if you sit on the concrete wall in the sun on the prom. Mind
you the idea of all those lovely ladies legs does draw a cheeky grin to my old and
withered mush. But moving on. Now then SUCCESS. Yes, dare I claim a modest yet satisfying
victory over the story of the yellow lines down Wyndham Street, or should I have said lack
of them. But since the last issue, some greater power than we shall ever know must have
listened to us lesser, more common sense natured creatures and sensibility has been
restored. Don't you just love the power of the pen? With success firmly on our minds on
the one hand I must just take a few moments to mention the other hand's less successful
effort, today, by yet another attempt to plunge our Capital city into chaos. As I write
this, the news is drifting over our screens about another bombing (attempt) in London. I
feel however we must all pay tribute to all the emergency agencies that deal with these
sort of things with the utmost professionalism and calm that must and should be the envy
of the world. It installs faith in us all that we have to fight to remodel the minds of
these radicals so as to remove any future threats to peace and harmony in this beautiful
multi-racial/faith society that we should be proud to call the United Kingdom. So Craigy
boy is, as I write still in the Big Brother house, and the place is beginning to hot up,
not unlike the weather. Craig must be the envy of millions of lads up and down the
country. Whilst getting a delectable snog from a lush, false boobed Irish lady in the
jacuzzi, what a shame it was all a bit of a waste really as Craig had already pledged his
undoing love for his other house-mate Anthony. Who's 70's dancing physique and groovy
moves seems to have turned him on. However that boys "train" was heading for a
completely different set of points. If you get my drift? Leaving poor Craig a little down
in the mouth. Rather like this column is heading if I don't hurry up and change the
subject.It's Carnival time again! And I can't wait. Yes it's that time of year you can all
join in with the fun and jump on the back of the Dunstable float and get absolutely
blotto! And if that doesn't appeal perhaps some of the other events might excite your
flights of fancy. We have our annual pantomime horse race, where equally drunken duos try
to remember which end of the costume they're in and then stagger like mad for the
finishing post. Stopping of course for a quickie in the Robin Hood. Or stop for a drink
and brunch if they prefer. Also new this year we have the landladies stakes. Although
technically to be politically correct that should be landpersons stakes or should that be
loins, oh well it doesn't matter. Picture them if you will at the starting line, all
dolled up in their frilly frocks, straw hats; true staunch buxom bosomed wenches in
enormous bloomers, ready for the off. And when the men have had their go the ladies might
like to join in the frolics as well. Each contender must be carrying a suitable suitcase,
although why that should be eludes at present. Not only that, but surely all the town's
landladies might be a bit hard pressed to find the time as this event coincides with one
of their busiest times of the year. So one must wonder if the entrant numbers will be that
numerical that we have to call in the services of the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the
tax credit office to sort it all out. Have no fear though you can count on what ever they
do decide they'll end up taking back more than you started with. Just like our shoes do
from a walk down the high street. Please, please can we have a steam clean! If something
isn't done soon Channel Four will be hovering around with a new programme: How clean are
your streets? And it's going to take more than a bit of lemon juice and vinegar in a
bucket of light soapy water to get these grimy pavements up to scratch. Of course I ought
to be constructive and to give back a little dignity to the community a few asbo kids
might like to take on the job to keep them out of mischief.However in view of recent
events that train of thought is somewhat unworkable as any supervision would now be
construed as contravening their basic human rights. These little anarchists now it seems
have the power to ultimate freedom no matter what. Long gone, alas, are the days where the
local friendly plod would politely keep any misdemeanours in check with a clip round the
ear and marched the offender home to dad. Whereupon he or she was sent to bed with a flea
in ones shell like, minus his or her tea if they were lucky. And for those that weren't so
lucky, some dads were a little bit handier with their belts. That can't happen now of
course as most roving coppers don't even know the local street names, never mind the names
and addresses of their local community. Never mind eh, I for one still firmly believe that
it's my human right to live a peaceful life, communicate with my neighbours, have a pint
or two in the Two Lifeboats, together with a kebab on the way home, without being sworn,
spat and leered at, and made to feel utterly alien in my own town of birth by a load of
discourteous, ignorant and improperly behaved in general people (not all young). Now
thanks to this kid, we might never ever feel that the law is on the side of folk who's
working taxes go towards the very places these thugs try to stop us all enjoying. Someone
has got to start saying No or else there's no point in there being any laws at all. So
fetch me my splif with my three bigamous marriages, a stack of racist, sexist and
Zionistic magazines, full of hate, sordid sex and pornography take it onto the streets,
drink drive, kick a few heads in, rob a bank or two, happy slap an old dear for good
measure and lets party! Take care now. Vic.
|