COLUMN: The Ely Grumpster on graffiti and holes
- Credit: Archant
• I will kick-off this week’s missive with my two favourite areas of irritation - graffiti and holes. For the former, some walnut-brain has sprayed his “tag” all over the cherry hill park benches and lisle lane. The Grumpster has reported this twice on the east cambs graffiti online help portal.
• Predictably, precisely nothing has happened. Perhaps we should rename it “the lack of help line”.
• Secondly, holes. After Anglian Water succeeded in turning Broad Street into the surface of the moon for most of 2017, they have handed the baton to another bunch of crater excavators, as yet unidentified. This bunch have created a monster cavity and in true Anglian style, left it to fill up with water.
• I have named their effort “the Ely Marianas trench”. I may hire a submersible, descending to the floor of this super hole in the hope of discovering some grotesque prehistoric fish with a head the size of Suffolk, Les Dawson’s face and teeth like Shane McGowan. I shall name this fish “kop” on account of its resemblance to your average Liverpool FC footballer.
• Outside of our little world, more amusing news items to ponder. Posh bra firm, Rigby and Peller have lost their Royal Warrant. Founder, June Kenton, made the rather unfortunate decision to write and publish a book that included a section on trips to the palace. Not surprising, but to June’s obvious confusion, her Maj was not amused and withdrew the Royal Warrant. Bet Kenton’s board, customers and shareholders are delighted with her!
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• And what about our favourite ex-city trader, Nigel Farage, who has re-emerged to bizarrely demand a second referendum on Brexit, only to backtrack rapidly when presented with the latest polls. Another great example of opening mouth before engaging brain.
• No report, of course, is complete without a reference to the world’s favourite toddler, President Doughnut Trump. He has allegedly enjoyed a tryst with the hilariously named “Stormy Daniels”, revelling in a thrashing with a copy of Forbes magazine. That image will live with me forever.
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• To end, I complete my tales of idiocy by flying the flag for CCTV. The north London cretins who stole my daughter’s bike were unaware of the fact that the rack was protected by cameras. Their ugly mugs are now all over social media and the local plods are aware. Next knock at the door, lads, could be the old bill.