I would like to point out that editing content is just one of my duties as CEO; I am also responsible for corporate strategy, managing a rapidly changing personnel and security. Impressive, certainly! But I was once just like you, believing my destiny lay with the British army as a deputy fitness coordinator at Garstang Military Academy. Then one moment changed my life; reading 'Losing My Virginity' by Richard Branson. He made me realise that there was a better way of life than training 17-year olds to put men down like dogs in some Balkan shithole, that way being a self-made billionaire. Richard also taught me that foreigners, even those who wear towels on their heads, are potential customers. I bided the rest of my time in the army writing my first book, "Motivation on the Minimum Wage". When I got out I heard there was a packet to be made on the internet and I wanted a piece of it. So here I am.

Go for it!

Kevin Nudge.
 

When I was about 14 I did a little skiving off from Holy Cross and went for a walk through Astley Park. While walking down one of the nature type paths behind that bus shelter thing near the changing rooms.....minding my own business. I heard a sound like branches cracking and looked around to see someone (locally known as Tonto I found out) come out of the bushes and slide
down the hill on to the path behind me. Needless to say, I almost followed through, and thought that this was some type
of pervy. So as not to cause suspicion I casually walked a little faster, towards the zoo part (zoo? a couple of rabbits and the odd goat) then, when I got out of site....promptly ran like hell towards the main path through the park and then shot back up to Southport Road.

By the time I got to the memorial I was knackered (middle distance is not my best sport) As I was taking a breather, I looked back down the hill and actually saw this Tonto bloke come back out and maybe I was a little paranoid but he certainly had a good look around as if he was lookign for someone. Very suspect I must say. So I decided a walk alone in Astley Park is not such a good idea after all.

And so off I went and strolled through town and stopped at Masseys for a hot vimto and a game of defender. Quietly pondering the fact that I have to get to school after dinner, and in comes Tonto !! Friggin hell this got a little too conicidental for me,
so after slamming down the vimto. It was never as hot as they claimed. I left Masseys and swore I would not skive off
again.

I actually bumped into Tonto a few years later in The White Bull and after having a few pints thus feeling a little confident
and also a lot bigger now.....snarled at him and challenged him about the incident. But it was a waste of time really as he
played dumb and I never got my answer as to if he was following me or not. But I'll never forget that day or the little shite know as Tonto.

I also remember as a kid, going into the Royal Oak an a Saturday with me mam and dad after the shopping. They had an "American Bar" near the side entrance and the walls were covered with Basketball stars with the big huge Afro's and a huge picture of Easy Rider. It was one of those places that sold Double Diamond (now only to be seen in the Queen Vic in Eastenders) and Colt 45. That's quite a few years before they changed it all and had Clouseau's downstairs with that cool video juke box.

Ah well, that's enough for now.

Later
Eddie.

Dear Eddie,

I know the streets and believe me, I know the faces, but I am unaware of this Tonto character. I can only assume you are referring to the man known in North West Chorley as 'Bowling Freak'. I would disapprove of it, but if you really have to play 'spot the nonce', he would be an ace card; in the unlikely event of cards being involved in such a game. He has the sort of face you can only achieve through generations of inbreeding. The like of which I have only seen surpassed in one particular bar in Buxton, a place in which I felt wholly unwelcome.

He works for Chorley Corporation, so at least he has an excuse to be hanging around the park by day. A park which he seems to take great pride in, judging by the way he, despite his pathetic physique, happily tends to his plants while his colleagues blatantly lie on the floor listening to the radio. They are even too lazy to bother looking defiant. His obsession with bowls, which he seems to play every night, usually getting a quick practice in on his dinner, would probably be his reason for lurking there at night.

On the occasions he isn't bowling or nurturing plants, he spends his time mincing around dressed as a cowboy, incorporating a nice beige ten-gallon hat. Have I just described your Tonto? However, I wouldn't have guessed the Bowling Freak to be a Defender man, nor a White Bull regular, though there did used to be a room in the back of the White Bull containing a tabletop arcade game, so maybe he did have a thing for video games. And drinking hot Vimto would explain the deplorable condition of his teeth.

The problem I always had with Defender was the concept of rescuing the humanoids. I never felt any sense of kinship with the humanoids and it was enjoyable to destroy them. Maybe even more enjoyable than destroying the mutants. Unfortunately this resulted in a succession of poor scores.

Yours faithfully,
Kevin Nudge.

Kevin,

In the mid 1990's I had the good fortune to spend a few months in Chorley. If you will indulge me, may I share with you and your readers my heart warming tale of how one man was saved f rom destitution by a stay in Chorley. It was 1995 and buoyed by the burgeoning success of Oasis I decided to embark on a tour of England with my Labi Siffre cover band "Labi Siffre Sings". My manager at the time, Roger Del gardo, suggested that the ideal place to relaunch my career was the Bolton Metro circuit. My first gig was in the Westhoughton Labour club. To begin with the crowd were merely disinterested but when I played my encore of "It must be love" (latterly covered my that nest of vipers Madness) they started calling me a dago and claimed that I was "n cking other blokes songs". The air soon turned nasty and I had to escape through the ladies toilet window losing all my equipment, my red blazer, 7 L&B golds and my band. I was far from home and had nothing left but a return coach ticket. It was then that Mr Delgardo dropped the bomb shell that he had advanced me £15,000 in the form of a band and equipment and that unless I gave him the money I'd be "swimming with the pram in Botany bay".

Mr Delgardo said that as he liked me I could work off the debt working in his friends restaurant called Browns Chippy in Parker street. I like to refer to this period as my seven years in Tibet. The 12 months I spent in this establishment allowed me to meditate on the meaning of life. My favourite night was Friday when all the colorful local characters would come in for a delightful dish of sliced king Edward potatoes lightly fried in olive oil s rved with a monosodium glutamate rich sauce known as "Cuwwrry Sawce". The locals were always friendly calling me dick head, Paki, Wop, Spick, Knob head and stinking foreigner. Initially I tried to explain to them that I was in fact from Stoke On Trent but it usually resulted in a severe beating.My spiritual mentor at this time, the most holy Mustapha, taught the meaning of the local dialect and the reverence behind such colloquialisms .

After 12 months Mr Delgardo gave me my coach ticket back and said that Hazel Dean had come to replacement me. I gave Hazel a week induction and she told me how she had had to escape from a working mans club in Westhoughton which had turned nasty causing her to lose all her equipment, and how Mr Delgardo had found her this job to pay off her debts. Night after night I saw a procession of beautiful ladies being courted by males who could at best be described as sub human. This combined with their ironic attitude that I was "scum" for working in a chippy lead me to plain of higher spiritual consciousness. I now view such people as Untermenschen and have found solace in the works of A. Hilter and his seminal Mein Kempf. Your town taught me how social exclusion and economic apartheid is the only way. As Rev. Thomas Malthaus said, "If the poor go hungry let them die".

Pierre, November 2000

Dear Pierre,

I am familiar with Mustapha's eatery and his assistants; the sour faced woman with the diseased fingers and the repressed Iranian man who always seems to behave as if he has recently received an unwanted dry-bumming at the hands of Mustapha. I often take visiting financial consultants there for an ironic melting polystyrene tray of chips and to listen to the other customers tell of the "fanny" they happened to finger behind Spar that evening. I especially enjoy the look on the face of whichever executive I happen to be with, as he notices the decades old ecosystem on the fingers of the creature that has just hand-picked his chips. Chips which they feel compelled to eat, as previously, along with the usual unlikely tales of cocaine and whores, they have invariably boasted about how can they cut it in the world of the underclass, despite the fact they have been to Eton or wherever. At this point I usually make some comments along the lines of how Mustapha owes me a substantial amount of money after I cleaned him out in a late night card game, how the Iranian guy can arrange to have people killed and that I have no intention of paying for their services.

As a mater of fact, I don't know Mustapha, though I occasionally see him at the Park Hall gym. Don't ask me how much he can bench, because he just seems to lurk in the sauna reading trashy sci-fi novels. It's interesting you mention Hitler or "old blue eyes", as I like to call him, because I imagine he would appeal to a hard working mustachioed petty-bourgoise like Mustapha. Also, after having worked there, perhaps you can tell me why virtually all his menu, including exotic dishes such as dinosaur burgers, is simply not available at his shop.

Yours sincerely,

Kevin Nudge,
C.E.O., Chorley POL Consortium.

I have had the misfortune to visit your site and cannot for the life of me figure out why you are so "down" on the idyllic market town of chorley. Perhaps you are one of these "lefties" we hear so much about in the newspapers. Have you been on one of those ban the bomb marches or a fox-hunt. Let me tell you, in my day we would not have tolerated this kind of disrepectful behaviour. You would have been given the lash without question. Scars all over your back, and bled with leeches. That would knock some sense into you and no mistake.

I have lived and worked in Chorley now for over twenty five years running the european cured meat counter at Booths, and although my army boxing days are far behind me I still challenge you to a fight - if you dare step foot in the shop that is.

Just come on in Mr Bigshot, come on upto the counter and show me your courage - you heathen.

Yours without respect
Jonathan Windchime
EUROPEAN CURED MEAT COUNTER
Booths Plc
Chorley
 

Kindly explain to how your undoubted experience of selling cured meats to old ladies of the aspiring middle class, who consider themselves above eating meat and potato pies like the rest of us, would benefit you in unarmed combat. It’s a miracle that the place keeps going, though I did buy a high-protein muscle-shake from there once, which was actually quite nice. The same goes for your army training. The army that you seem so proud to belong to, was a far cry from the elite combat force, made up of higly trained killing machines like Andy McNab, of today and I’ll wager the nearest you probably got to the front line was probably a brothel in Cairo.

Your suggestion that pointing out some of the negative aspects of the scum that hang around our town come nightfall makes me a communist. However, to answer your absurd questions, I have nothing against foxes and have never really thought about bombs. I am a businessman  Mr. Windchime and a successful one too, with millions in venture capital just around the corner. While you languish on the Booth’s meat counter waiting to die, I stand at the forefront of a global electronic revolution will my whole life ahead of me. 

As regards your challenge, I trust you have changed your mind now you have seen what I look like. I really have better things to do than engage in fisticuffs with old men in supermarket car parks.

Kevin Nudge,
C.E.O., Chorley POL Consortium.
 

How about a picture of a goat. I happen to like them, that's all.

Sebastian Lopez, Euxton.
 

I am, perhaps unwisely, assuming your request is genuine and I suppose a goat would brighten the page up a little. So here you are! His name is George and lives on Rawlinson Avenue.

Kevin.
 

Jon.
 

I don’t think we claim mormon culture started in Chorley, nor Preston, but in the Mid West by a man who found a magic book up a mountain. Dave, who wrote the piece, says that you might have been confused by the way he says ‘The true church is in Chorley’ meaning that one of the true churches is in Chorley. Please excuse him, he’s from Honduras, but he doesn’t ask for much. If you know what I mean. 

Argos is certainly a welcome addition to the town, as a place second only to Poppycock for buying belated and probably unwanted gifts such as toasted sandwich makers for obscure relatives. 

There is already a pub guide of sorts and I raised the idea of a ‘good food guide’ at a recent brainstorming session, but was met with a marked lack of  enthusiasm. However if you should write a piece on the history of Goodies cafeteria I will happily include it. I am particularly intrigued by your eatery’s continual change of location and I personally preferred it when it overlooked the market. 

My staff, particularly Dave Rodriguez, rate your café highly and I especially enjoy your no nonsense breakfasts after a strenuous early morning workout. Though I have to say,  for afternoon tea I prefer the Raj flavour of Russell’s tea room. I expect it’s the sort of place you would go in the colonies shortly after potting a tiger.

Finally, as one businessman to another have you considered the internet as a means to push your products, perhaps a virtual pie shop. If you don’t it’s only a matter of time before someone else will.

Yours sincerely,

Kevin Nudge,
C.E.O., Chorley POL Consortium.