Praise The Lord!  It’s February.

Wanstead and Rum’s offices have been drearier than a morgue in January, while the alcohol abstinence has taken its sorry toll on these writers.

After removing the Christmas decorations and getting out the bathroom scales (for them to announce the inevitable) we’ve spent the last 31 days slouched in our chairs playing with fidget spinners, avoiding the credit card bill, and working out that the dirty ads on Wanstead’s favourite website are targeted to our own smutty browsing.

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But all that is behind us!  Damn, it’s nearly spring, when the first buds will appear on the trees and lambs frolking in meadows, will lift our spirits and get us through to summer.

Until then, there’s The Lash.  Old faithful.  Like a comfy pair of slippers and that warm pillow that your wife fanticises about smothering you with, the lash provides the emotional ups and downs that we need, and tonight is the first night of the roller coaster that will see us through to December 31st, tragedies aside.

So how should we approach our first night out?  Calmly and quietly with a couple of pints in the local, and getting home in time for the 10 O’Clock news?  Or noisily and obnoxiously, with dancing on the tables, being asked to leave by the gaffer, and a kebab from Wanstead’s Kebabaria?

I think we all know the answer.  Let’s chat tomorrow morning.

Party Poopers

There was concern for the welfare of Wanstead children this month, as officially audited accounts of Wanstead parents show that spending on children’s birthday parties has reduced from GBP190m in 2016 to GBP189m in 2017.

This represents a 1% downturn in spending and the militant little shits are outraged.  Johnny (5) of Mansfield Avenue, is leading Children-Uniting-Nasty-Trends-In-Excessive-Spending (CUNTIES)

“Last year mummy organised a party in the church hall with a bouncy castle and an entertainer, and 44 of my friends from my two different nurseries.”

“This year, it was party-rings and pass the parcel in the kitchen.  It had been deliberately organised on a Friday rather than a weekend just to keep the numbers down, and although I can’t prove it, I think the tight cow wrapped the whole thing up for less that fifty quid.”

Research by this website suggests that the average children’s party in Wanstead consists of twenty children running riot in a soft play for 45 minutes, while the mothers gossip about what reading level their children are on.

This is followed by 20 plates of the highest quality turkey twizzlers and yesterdays chips, accompanied by no-added-sugar squash watered down so much it tastes like rain, and birthday cake with icing with such a kick that you find yourself wondering whether the chef accidentally dropped a couple of lines in to it.  Just to prove you are middle class, someone puts a down a bowl of carrot sticks with humous which obviously none of the kids go anywhere near.

If you hunt around, you can get this kind of wondrous experience for just short of 500 bucks.

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Verity (7) of St Mary’s Avenue (The exceptionally affluent end) is one of the lucky few who saw an increase in spending this year, after her daddy Ronnie had a particularly strong year avoiding tax.

“Last year, everyone arrived on their pony,” Explained Verity, “but the horses were asked to stay outside and were only given Waitrose Organic Carrots and Avocado Pears to munch, while the children partied inside with entertainers provided by Princess Charlotte’s Montessori nursery .

“This year, Daddy really threw the boat out.  While my friends and I enjoyed a private rendition of The Nutcracker courtesy of the Royal Opera House in the east wing, each of the Ponies was given a private prance by Zara Tindall, and a party bag containing  a tube of the finest stallion semen.”

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A source close to the Wanstead Society has indicated that there’s an undisputed correlation between the amount of money spent on a birthday party, and how much you love your child.

If you spend less that £400 you clearly don’t love them enough.  Get out of Wanstead you filthy pauper.

Wanstead families implicated in Paradise Papers

Wanstead and Rum are disappointed to report that the shocking tax evasion tactics reported in the Paradise Papers leak have spread to Wanstead.

We have been so inundated with disgusting aggressive tax avoidance strategies employed by Wanstead residents, that we are only able to report the top five.

In fifth place:

Suzie (27) from Addison road was given one thousand pounds last year from an elderly relative, and decided at first to put it in her current account.  All would have remained well, but then Suzie got greedy.  After taking advice from a so-called financial adviser, Suzie decided to move the money to a complicated investment instrument which exploits a government loophole to avoid paying tax on savings.  It’s called an ISA.

A remorseful Suzie explained: “It just seemed like daylight robbery to pay 20 percent tax on the interest, and I was offered this alternative arrangement and I liked it.  I didn’t think really about what I was doing.”

Suzie has since been reported to the Inland Revenue.

In fourth place

John, from Grosvenor Road, took one look at his P60 from the last tax year and decided it simply wasn’t worth him getting out of bed.

“I just packed my job in.” explained John.  “Saved myself a fortune in income tax.  I’ve had to tighten my belt on other things of course:  all of my meals now come from The George, and it looks like I might have to sell the house and move to Buckhurst Hill, but is worth it for the tax avoidance.”

In third place

Lucky (19) and Keith (57) got married last year, just two weeks after Lucky landed on the tarmac from Bangkok.  Keith had recently had to commit to a rather large Foreign Exchange transaction, and so wanted to save money on the refreshments at their wedding.

“I hired a van, got a cheap ferry ticket and drove over to France.” explained Keith. (As Wanstead and Rum were hastily making notes)

“I loaded the transit with cheap red French plonk, topped it up with couple of hot young refugees for the after party, and smashed back across the border having saved myself over £200 in UK taxes.”

“Of course I was only able to do it because the garlic-munching EU-loving Frenchies were so hospitable to the cause.  You wait until Brexit kicks in, I’m sure it’ll be almost free then, the outlook for our currency is so strong.”

In second place

Henry (19) is a lover of fast food, and a student at Teeside University (but don’t look for this in The Times Good University guide, folks) but a resident of Wanstead in the holidays

Henry aggressively avoids tax by claiming to be ‘eating out’ every time he visits McDonalds.

Henry confessed:

“Every time I’m asked, I just say ‘eat out’ and avoid the VAT.  I don’t even have to think about it anymore.  Then, I slope around the corner, empty the contents of my take-away bag on to a tray and help myself to a seat.”

Henry, grinning like a Cheshire cat at his cunning, went on:

“I reckon that, over the years, I’ve avoided over £14.50 in VAT.  Always thinking, me.”

In First Place

Ronnie (54) has been a derivatives broker for thirty years, and works “Up Taaawn”.  Ronnie explained how through a series of complicated transactions he is able to hide his real income, while paying the school fees on the QT.

“I didn’t start this, wiv the aim o saving money on tax, y’ understand son.  I just wanted to keep the real deal away from the misses, stop her moanin’ about how I spend too much y’ know.”

“It does have the healthy side effect of keeping The Rev off your case though.  What I does, is this:”

Ronnie leaned forward.

“First, I gets paid most of my money in to Gringots.  Then I have it wired using flu powder to an account in the Cayman Islands.  From there, I’ve got a complicated and informal tri-party Repo arrangement with me, Lewis Hamilton, and the chap who runs Metropolis in Bethnal green.”

“Wheneva I need a few bob, I pop in to Metropolis, and go fur a private dance wiv Babs.  While she’s busy munchin, Vic pops over and hands me a wedge of cash that’s clean as a whistle.  Forest School are all too pleased to take a stack of slightly clammy fifties for the education of young Vinnie.”

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No-one wants to pay tax, but Ronnie sounds like a proper Current Bun reading Geezer – so can be forgiven for his minor indiscretion.

The Rum however feels that Suzie, John, Keith and Henry should be bought to justice using the full strength of the Law.

What Do You Think?

  • Should we bring back capital punishment specifically for the purposes of punishing folk who eat-in when they’ve said “Take Away”?
  • Should people without A-levels be allowed to own Private Jets?

Leave your comments below!

 

Concern for Blog Site Stability

Utter panic hit Wanstead this morning as, for a brief moment, Wanstead’s favourite website was down, with readers greeted with the message ‘unable to establish database connection’.

Mary (38) was one of the local residents affected by the break down:

“I normally check in with the site on the school run in the morning, in-between starting the engine and doing my make up.

“Upon discovering the upsetting news, I quickly took to WhatsApp to check that that it wasn’t just a problem with my phone.”

 

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Across the road, Maive (45) was woken early by the beeping of WhatsApp, as messages started to filter from Mary.

Maive explained,

“I get nervous and anxious if I have more than one unread WhatsApp messages from the local mums groups, so as soon as I heard my phone beep, I was bolt upright, giving the issue my urgent attention.

“When I discovered the news I immediately felt a sense of loss that i haven’t felt since I accidentally reversed over Kitty in the X5.

“I used to feel safe in the knowledge that I am completely up to date with every rumor and piece of hearsay regarding commercial lettings on the high street. With the website down, who is monitoring these activities and keeping us informed?

“What would happen if another charity shop opened, and I heard about it TOO LATE?

Wanstead And Rum was interviewing Maive over a pot of tea in the immaculately laid out drawing room of her recently refurbished 1890s semi. Her husband, Paddy, popped his nose round the door during the interview and I asked him whether he had any ideas around how to alleviate Maive’s anxieties.

“She could get a fecking job, lazy eejit”

Well thank you Paddy, but who would this website write satire about then?

No Room for the Dim

The 2018 school intake round is beginning, and Wanstead’s local primary schools are bracing themselves for the paperwork that will begin from next month.

Our local primary schools face a unique challenge, as 90% of Wanstead childrens IQ fall in the top 5 percent of the national average.

In a recent survey conducted by this website, 98% of Wanstead’s 4 year olds were confirmed as having intelligence that is either ‘exceptional’ or ‘unprecedented’, as independently assessed by their parents.

Mr Frump, headteacher of Nightingale-School-For-The-Offspring-of-Very-Pushy-Parents, describes the measures that have been put in place to meet the special demands of their intake:

“Accommodating the children presents a particular set of challenges, but we’ve risen to the occasion over the years, by providing tools that suit the children.  We have a just begun the installation of a Hyperloop terminal for next years’ intake, and our Large Hadron Collider opened in September and children have already begun conducting experiments for their science projects.

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“I just imagine I’m running a muggle version of Hogwarts, with several hundred duplicate Hermiones.  I only smashed one of the irritating little shits in the face last term, so that’s a personal best.”

In an interview conducted on the high street, this site bumped in to parent Tracy Webster (38) and her son Archie (7), who was busy licking a discarded toffee off the window of Greggs.  Tracy had to send Archie to a school in Leytonstone two years ago after he was turned away from the Church School on Wanstead Green for not collecting enough God Stamps on Sunday mornings

“Archie is just so terribly terribly bright.” explained Tracey.  “It’s not the school’s fault per say, but I’m just not sure they’re up to stretching Archie to allow him to reach his potential.  I’m not boasting, but he knows all the words to The Grand Old Duke of York, and can identify three different types of Sticky Bun in Percy Ingle.  I just wish he was being educated by Mr Frump here in Wanstead”

Over-intelligence seems to be a problem which has spanned multiple Wanstead generations, and is causing employment issues in Wanstead’s ever competitive graduate-jobs market.  Annabelle (22) has just returned back to her parent’s home in Wanstead from Oxford where she was reading English Literature and Sociology.  She was recently selected as the successful  candidate in a part-time Barista role at The Larder.

“Well I was enjoying it for the first couple of days” explained Annabelle, “But then I realised that due to an unfortunate typo during the job search process, I wasn’t on the fast-track to Queen’s Council that I had thought.

“Daddy really lost his shit and said I wasn’t allowed back in the house until I could tie my own shoe laces.”

Percy Pig delay causing mental health strain on Wanstead Housewives

The news that Marks and Spencers’ arrival on Wanstead’s high street has been delayed has left many a resident in distress.  The delay of yet another ludicrously overpriced way to spend hubby’s hard earned cash on our high street is too much for some to take.

Felicity (37) was found by this author in The Current, cupping a macchiato (made with locally-sourced beans, naturally) and hiding her tears behind her Jaeger scarf.

“I’ve already spent several thousand on fudge-fed Ritz-reared pork at the butchers, and dropped three hundred on B&H-smoked salmon from the fishmongers – but I was relying on Simply Food to really accelerate the spending.”

Felicity continued:

“Richard’s due home from his brokerage in twenty minutes, and I promised we’d have enough Avios points to send the Au Pair to New York to keep him company on his business trip”

Across from Felicity’s table in The Current was Addison Road resident Bertie.   Bertie had been asked to leave the martial home for an hour while everyone calmed down, after he arrived back from the co-op with the wrong type of yoghurt to feed his hideously obese child, Saffie.

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” ‘Yoghurt’ the text message said” explained Bertie.  “Obviously I’ve only myself to blame. But when confronted with all the brands my wife normally buys – Ella’s Kitchen, Yeo Valley, Innocent, – I got all panicky and just grabbed the My Little Pony ones.  I should have known about the E numbers”

If M&S can just hurry up and open shop, normal residents like Bertie can do his shop risk free.  Everyone knows 5 Reversy Percys count as one of a child’s five a day.

Boxes and Bushes

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Wanstead’s favourite website recently highlighted an environmental issue with the box tree caterpillar, with gardeners reporting that the pests are destroying well manicured hedges in the local area.

Always keen to remain journalistically neutral, this website has given a voice to the pest.

Warvey Heinstein, a resident who has hastily moved to the area said:

“I’ve been insisting that all lady gardens I’ve been in contact with over the last thirty years have had very well trimmed.  Frankly, in 2017, any gardener with more than the lightest spattering of foliage on their bush needs to get with the programme.”

Well thank you Warvey, but I’m afraid you’ve totally mis-judged the tone of E11.

 

Knock-Knock

It’s generally agreed that Wanstead provides a lot of choice for the modern drinker.  The Duke and The Manor House have great beers, food and atmosphere.  The Cuckfield has wonderful outdoor space in the summer months, and The George has cheerfully priced beers if the dole cheque has just come in, and you’d like to pop in without going through the formalities of doing your flies up.

But what about a bit of post-last-orders entertainment?

The tragic demise of Hugh Hefner – with his admirable legacy of promoting immigration from Eastern Europe – has reignited the debate amongst Wanstead Men about where to go for a bit of fun when you’ve had eight pints and the bell has rung.  Certainly not back to your own marital bed when you’ve fallen up the stairs and woken the kids up, that’s for sure.

Until now there’s only been one option, and the blue bottles orbiting the fizzing sign of the Male Grooming Centre suggest the kind of service that only suits an acquired taste and a lot of confidence.

However, it looks like there’s now another option on the horizon, and Wanstead-And-Rum brings you this EXCLUSIVE story.

28a Addison Road has stood empty since 27th August.  It was sold by the Burrages:  Ann, John, Elsie and Ollie, who sold it in a rush after Ollie discovered Ann’s stash of Asian Babe magazine in the cellar – and didn’t keep his promise not to tell his dad.  Elsie was immediately withdrawn from Forest school part way through her A-levels, which frankly let everybody down.

In the rush, it seems they didn’t pay attention to the buyer.  The land registry shows 28a is now owned by knockknockdontstop.com, the reputable firm behind Tittie-Tittie-Bang-Bang in Mayfair, and Middle-Class-Milf in Loughton.

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Blueprints – seen by this website – along with an application for a liquor licence submitted to Redbridge council last month – suggest the three bed Edwardian semi is about to be transformed in to a fetish club with 2 bars, a Dungeon, a Spanking-Wall and a Recovery Lounge –  with a complete disregard for the properties original features.

The opening date looks to be set for halloween to open with a squeal, so watch this space.

It started with Trevor

Trevor isn’t a bad man.

He’s been to school.  He’s got a degree of sorts.  He loves his mum.  He’s a family man and holds down a job.  Oh and obviously, Trevor is a pseudonym.

But occasionally Trevor just likes to light the rag at the top of a (metaphorical) petrol bomb before throwing it in to the comments section of Wanstead’s Favourite Website.

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He was warned.  And not just once.  But eventually his account was blocked, and he had nowhere to vent his anger.

Trevor, like many others out there, needs somewhere to write his satire, and somewhere to vent his thoughts.

So here it is.  Welcome to Wanstead And Rum.