All the fun of the fair

Amid the chaotic aftermath of the storm, the prize for the most picturesquely bizarre damage has surely to go to North Essex,where the headlines read:

Storm damages orangutan enclosure

and

Pier's helter-skelter blown down

Yes, it's our old friend Clacton Pier again; while Walton, just up the coast, put in its own bid for media coverage with some dislodged metal sheeting (in a rather nauseating shade of yellow, which gave a distinctly festive air to the photographs), Clacton has romped home with as spectacular and alliterative a bit of damage as you are likely to see for a while.

According to an eye-witness:

“It was quite surreal as it bounced on landing and just looked like a flimsy piece of plastic.”

How reassuring! I can't decide whether this means local parents will, in future, be reluctant to entrust their little darlings to the attractions or whether they will be queuing up to shove their sprogs onto the remaining machinery when the pier reopens.

Or perhaps they'll take them to the zoo in the hope of seeing an orangutan escape.


Meanwhile, in all the recent meteorological fuss, another fly-by might just escape notice: 2013 UV3, discovered last week, will be zipping past today at a mere 280-odd thousand km away.

Time to raise another glass, I think!

A quiet couple of days coming up at the blog:

(cheezburger)

Zoomorphic quote of the day

Hot on the heels of the tale of stolen shoes comes another glimpse into everyday life in our troubled times:

Two men were arrested at Legoland after around 10 parents got involved in a mass brawl in front of horrified children.

They weren't horrified to start with, mind you, having been reared in a soap-opera-fuelled culture where the boundaries between reality and fiction have become increasingly blurred and screen violence is commonplace:

At first, some children thought the disruption was part of an act for the pirate-themed ride, but as more parents got involved it became clear that it was a fight.

The spectacle, according to one eye-witness, sounds positively Homeric:

'About ten people were involved - even some of the women flew off the ride trading punches'

(in the manner, one imagines, of the vengeful Olympian goddesses descending on the battlefield before Troy, albeit rather less divine in appearance).

The Legoland management, predictably, take a calmer view than the tabloid media, claiming that 'An altercation occurred between a family group and a male guest'.

Meanwhile the police state that  fixed penalty notices for public order offences were issued to two men aged 29 and 30, which is definitely old enough to know better. What hope is there for the offspring of men who behave like this on a family day out?

Under the circumstances, perhaps it's appropriate that Legoland's statement concludes with a phrase that could have come straight from a nature documentary:

'The group of males and their families were removed from the park'.

(The title is the result of a Google search to answer the question this story immediately brought to mind:  'What is the opposite of anthropomorphism?'. It is, perhaps, significant that a lot of other people out there seem to be asking the same question.)

Hold the front page!

Sometimes I think the offices of local newspapers must be filled with aspiring newshounds fervently hoping for some kind of grand disaster.

The Clacton gazette is certainly no exception, if this week's paper edition is anything to go by. When news came in of a roller-coaster accident on the town's pier, it must have seemed like journalistic manna from heaven, even though the reality was less than sensational:

All seven casualties were assessed by paramedics and did not require hospitalisation. A number of the casualties were shaken-up and a few suffered neck pains.

But why let the truth get in the way of a good headline? Ladies and gentlemen, from the people who brought you last year's sensational 'TODDLER INCHES AWAY FROM FALLING OFF PIER', it's....

Ah, bless!

Stripping off for the middleman

Fancy a nude rollercoaster ride? 102 brave souls did last week; they raised an impressive £22,000 for Southend Hospital's Breast Care unit and got themselves into the Guinness book of Records into the bargain, smashing the previous total of 32 people.

Getting your kit off for charity is pretty mainstream these days thanks to the ground-breaking Calendar Girls, but this was nature in the rawest form - no strategic cupcakes or rugby paraphernalia here to preserve the modesty of participants* (and some interesting gravitational effects too).

So why do it? In this case it was in the highly laudable cause of helping to buy two digital mammography machines - a snip at £750,000. People came from all over the UK to take part, so many they had to be sent round in 3 batches in the 40-seat train.

Now, I don't pretend to understand the economics involved in the purchase of this sort of equipment, but I do know that, in many cases, hospitals and schools pay well over the odds for equipment that could be sourced more cheaply elsewhere.

By the time it has passed through the Byzantine workings of purchasing departments and agencies, a straightforward transaction can accumulate a substantial weight of surcharges and premiums to cover the manpower costs - and that's without the action of market forces.

I sincerely hope that the nude roller-coaster riders of Southend will get full value for their £22,000 and didn't bare their all to pay the wages of some administrative middleman in a purchasing department somewhere.

*This is amply demonstrated elsewhere: the Metro performs what it obviously feels to be a vital public service by publishing an extensive photo gallery of the event.

Go, Nutkin!

There's a new thrill-seeker hanging about at Alton Towers, it seems. A daredevil squirrel has been riding a newly refurbished roller-coaster to the consternation of the management. The intrepid rodent, first attracted by the packed lunches brought by workmen, has taken to riding in the cars on morning test runs and joining the volunteers trying out the ride.

Mindful of the risks involved, the management have installed the sort of high-pitched noise generator used to deter alcopop-wielding teenagers from hanging around shopping centres at night. A sonic device, in other words so the squirrel has inevitably been nicknamed 'Sonic'.

And there's something slightly disappointing when you find out that the ride is, coincidentally, the 'Sonic Spinball' and the source of the information is Alton Towers' director of sales and marketing. And the newly-refurbished ride opened to the public on Sunday.

So there you are; the sum total of the evidence for the regular rides is a single picture of a squirrel in a stationary roller-coaster car and a story from a marketing director. Is it true? You decide.