The world ends in Southend.

So I was kinda interested in discovering whether the style and grace of a lot of Londoners had spanned its wings and ventured further afield. Past the suburbs of Walthamstow and Chingford, down the A406, through Buckhurst Hill and Loughton and ever speeding down the motorway towards the wonder that is Southend. It hadn't. They were at least 15 years behind the rest of us. Some, if not most, had no teeth. Weather beaten men in shiny leather jackets were gambling on the shitty fruit machines at 10am, some were on the john smiths. And for some reason, 70% of these Southenders were steaming around on mobility scooters. They were actually pulling up to the bar, parking up, jumping off and strolling to the toilet with ease. Yes people, Southend truly is Tower Hamlets by the sea. It's a shit hole.





Miss Kate Ford and I (she looks remarkably like the Pint Sized Snapper, who was spotted at the superhero convention) settled down outside a lovely pub called 'The Hope;' apparently an 18th Century Coach House, with as much charm as the Nelson Mandela Estate. I set up shop, hoping to spot the trendy amongst the crowds. There were no trendy people, there were no crowds. I remember as a kid, getting in the car for a day out by the beach. I thought it was brilliant. I would buy my bucket and spade, settle amongst the obese, shell suit wearing, mullet sporting Essex dwellers, and quite happily dig up the toxic waste and swim in the piss sodden sea.
I witnessed kids of this generation doing the same thing. Poor bastards.




Last year when I was bumming around the world, I stopped at a place in the middle of the desert called Las Vegas. Apparently stars such as Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley and even Barry Manilow have graced the towering hotels along the strip. In Southend, I could imagine Bernard Manning, Jim Davidson and Rick Waller donning their Sunday best to wow the locals. They would love it.




This gentile looking fella was on the hard stuff at 9.30am. Sporting a greased back look, brown fleece, leather look coat and Rockports, he was the pick of the bunch outside the Hope Hotel. With trademark homemade tattoos and a distain for people who 'aren't from these parts'; the Willie Nelson look was attracting the toothless women cruising by on their scooters. A true Southender to the core.




I spotted this guy and his Mrs sitting outside the pub (can you see a pattern emerging here) I loved his clip on aviator style shades, his native American tee straining to cover his ale filled stomach, blue plastic bag, retro tattoos and week long stubble. Obviously gasping at 9.45am, a nice pint was just what the doctor ordered.

Now, I would never mock a human being for having a disability. It truly is a dreadful thing to live with. But I believe I have the right to question people who zoom around on their scooters, only to get up onto their feet to change up a tenner for the one arm bandit machine. Have I missed an advertisement along the way somewhere? Is Southend the place to migrate to when our legs let us down?

An amazing return to form here for this lovely looking lady. The 'number 1 wag' top was the best item of clothing I saw all day. Teamed with peroxide hair, with roots growing through, and a couple of kids in tow, this lady caught the eye. I actually did some digging and rumour has it she was spotted leaving Jermaine Defoe's flat in the early hours of last Saturday morning.

So this guy was my most stylish man of the day. Tracksuit bottoms, Velcro sandals with socks, an ill fitting Ben Sherman style shirt, 80s specs and baseball cap. I caught him loitering outside the pub. Majestic.

So, I think I may have to travel back towards London to spot the style conscious amongst us, because I think the people of Southend worry about other things. After all, the scooters don't run for free, the dental bills are a nightmare and the bar tabs are sky high. So, if you fancy sharing a toilet with a random on a night out, or sunbathing under a grey sky, or paying over the odds for a bag of doughnuts, Southend beats the South of France every time. Maybe I'm just a cockney snob, but give me the big smoke any day of the week.

So, after a spot of crazy golf, a go on the 'Rage' roller coaster, about 6 pints, a greasy hot dog and a deep fried doughnut, I thought it was time to jump back in the supervan and get back to Walthamstow. I was disappointed. Southend, you let me down, you let my readers down, you let Essex down, but most of all, you let yourselves down.

Next stop, Selbourne Walk, E17. Be scared.

Spare Change guv'ner?

Superheroes join forces at Debden House.

Pow! Whammo! Bosh! This weekend saw the annual superhero convention at Debden House in deepest, darkest Essex. For one night only they performed for a packed field of revellers. 'Thomas the Wank Engine' had a small following of children shadowing his every move as he produced a glorious cover of 'Roxanne' by the Police. 'Pratman' sat on a chair for most of the weekend, only moving to the bushes on crutches to recharge his superpowers (his 2009 epic battle with the evil trucker playing heavily on his mind) 'Batgirl' turned up in her Nissan Micra and was overheard to be 'loving it' as she joined the 24 hour party. The 'Goodtime Girls' shone in gold, silver and red, barely controlling their power of melting the boy's hearts. But, stealing the show was the 'PVC Traffic Warden', looking like he was smuggling two baby pigeons, he proceeded to drink his body weight in Carlsberg and retreat to his one man cave.

One half of the 'Goodtime Girls,' known as the 'JaffaCake Kid', this 27 year old supergirl can put up a 6 man tent in the blink of an eye and has been rumoured to clear up bombsites using one hand. Her true identity is unknown but her accent and manners have narrowed down the search to the wrong side of Hackney, East London.

The 'Budgie Smuggler' could only join the fun for a few hours because of a hectic week dealing with computer crashes and the construction of execution desks. He proceeded to blow away the competition in a spontaneous Frisbee championship in which 'Thomas the Wank Engine' was disqualified for a signal failure.

'BatGirl' is said to be able to survive in such extreme conditions that she can live on only diet coke and percy pigs. There were rumblings that on an around the world trip, her and the 'Budgie Smuggler' joined forces to rid the world of ugly children, but these reports are unclarified. She has also been on numerous adventures with the 'GoodTime Girls' and broken many hearts along the way. Hailing from the other side of London, 'BatGirl' is a mysterious entity, only being seen at certain weekends but always in demand.

After becoming a father for the first time, the superheroes were worried that the 'PVC Traffic Warden' may lose his extreme drinking powers. However, they couldn't have been more wrong. His revealing uniform may have scared off the children who were circling 'Thomas the Wank Engine,' but the love for his family was enough to make him a real crowd pleaser. Any man opts for an early night if they're meeting their mother in law in the morning, but not the 'PVC Traffic Warden.' He has been described as a 'lose cannon' in the past, but powered through the evening, stealing the show with his infectious personality.

The other half of the 'GoodTime Girls,' the 'Pint Sized Snapper'; who is famous for her photographic memory and ability to pap people in compromising situations, shone in silver. Again, her true identity is clouded, but it is believed that she is the 'JaffaCake Kid's' younger sister. Sparks were flying between her and 'Thomas the Wank Engine' all evening and the bookies have slashed the odds of a Snapper/Wank Engine super baby before the end of 2012.

So with super company, super food and super drink, this year was said to be the greatest convention to date. Roll on 2011.

Spare change guv'ner?