Well, it was 1994 when I was last living in the great village of Folkestone, but at the time I was trying my very best with the Folkestone & Hythe council to seriously consider a plant whereby unhappy males could take their drunken partners and, erm... sort of 'recycle' the women. Trouble was - I stipulated that the council must provide legal proof via the High Court of Civil Rights in London, that, in fact the females listed on a 'confirmation portfolio paper', would never be able to hit me with a telephone handset over my head - without due care and attention.
The case failed miserably, and several handsets were beginning to resemble ballistic missiles in court. Some members of the sandwich-handout team almost became bankrupt, when a whole tuna-mayonnaise buffet table, including the fresh bread (and the tweasers to pick the bones out the uncooked fish) was totally devastated by a blast by someone who had already eaten the 120 EGG & CABBAGE SARNIES ....ouch!
Ganda
This is part of my site The 'Gerald that I set up in a fury of excitement when I first came to Folkestone sometime in '04. I'd been a frequent visitor for a few years previous to that but I am technically one of those Down From Londons you get nowadays. The site used to be updated more frequently with a calendar of events + voting for best venues + things, and I know it was a handy reference for others who were moving to the area. Now I've moved out of Folkestone again (though only a couple of miles) it doesn't get as much attention as it used to. Ironic really as Folkestone itself is now becoming the exciting place we knew it was about to become. My name is not Gerald BTW, this comes from a pretend paper in an episode of Brasseye or something, the Portsmouth Gerald, and how there is a local paper here called the Folkestone Herald. Puns like this are great aren't they? Do contact me if you have anything to offer, email anythign @ this domain, or try @folkestone or @pauly on Twitter.