Please slow down

QUIET residential streets are no place for drag racing but that is what residents in one area of Weymouth faced the other day.

Admittedly it was drag racing with a difference – a car dragging a trailer – but it was still searing pace where there should be no pace at all.

Conservative estimates from angry householders put the driver’s speed at 50-60mph – double the speed limit — and all that in a road where children were playing in front gardens.

One chase to recover an elusive football and it would have been tragedy because the driver would have struggled to spot a child nevermind stop in time to avoid hitting them.

You’d have thought that towing an attachment would have forced the driver to slow down but the way the trailer rattled, bounced and shook about didn’t show much care to me.

Being cynical, nothing will happen to such drivers unless they run over Downing Street’s coalition cat and even then they’ll probably make a fortune from selling their story.

The luminous glow of lobsters

LOBSTERS are in season again and I mean the human kind.

Just a glimpse of sunshine and people shed clothes like a bad case of dandruff.

Some of those I saw heading for the beach up St Thomas Street and St Mary Street in Weymouth were already on the way, their Mohican haircuts, slashed sundresses and designer cut-off camouflage shorts fetchingly set off by already pink shoulders, backs and glowing faces.

Women displayed wonderful examples of a short memory since some had clearly been recently basking before because they had one and sometimes even two white stripes down their backs. That’s half way to being able to play noughts and crosses!

If it’s like this now then Weymouth has wasted thousands of pounds on new seafront lighting.

The council could have spent the money on a new “car park full” sign and instead illuminated the Esplanade by attaching a couple of crocodile clips to overheated sun worshippers.

Everybody got that?

OFFICIAL jargon has long been a thorn in the side of clear English.

Below is an awful offering involving Portland which is available from the Admiralty under their website list of Frequently Asked Questions, believe it or not as an official explanation for tides.

It reads: “The technical reason for the migration from a double LW to a double HW is the rapid change in the phase of the principle lunar semi-diurnal harmonic constituent (M2) between Portland and Southampton, which then directly affects the higher harmonic constituents of the Shallow Water Tide. The presence of the degenerate amphidromic point lying to the northwest of Bournemouth results in further complexities of the local tidal regime.”

Everyone got that? I certainly didn’t, so it was interesting to note the response of one English master who believed the word “principle” had been used incorrectly.

He also pointed out that anything “northwest of Bournemouth” was, in fact, inland and so unlikely to be of much use in a discussion about tides!

My favourite comment came from a friend who read it and said: “I think I met a degenerate amphidromic in a Bangkok bar once!”

Beware: Fresh cream ahead!

COUNCILLORS have to be a fairly durable bunch of people but I recently saw a whole bunch of them looking extremely nervous indeed.

Was it some irate public group lashing into them about traffic congestion, town centre trading or anti-social behaviour? No it was not.

The civic fearful were actually at a Weymouth Pavilion celebration welcoming in one of their number, Paul Kimber, as the new Mayor. So why were they so frightened?

Well the group I saw had every reason to look worried because they were trying to stay out of the way of an enormous tottering pile of rich creamy deserts being gingerly wheeled towards the central food area!

The Ocean Room was so packed there was little room for manoeuvre and the councillors concerned were clearly worried that they could end up with a hefty dry cleaning bill!

No missing this one!

THERE was a time when public conveniences were sturdy brick buildings lined with tiles but not any more.

Surely there has never been a loo like the one which was being transported on the back of a lorry through the town.

There was no other description for it but lurid pink and more and more heads turned to look at it as the loo made its stately way down King Street.

I couldn’t begin to guess at the thinking behind such a colour scheme but at least it achieved one thing. No one would ever have trouble finding it no matter how dense the crowds at its destination.

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