Running West Kent Towers is somewhat akin to running a family of demanding children. "Can I have..... I want..... Can you just..... I need..... Have you got..... Please may I have......." And the worst culprit is Matt Boughton. Ever since I put him in charge of the team erecting correx boards I have had daily demands of what he needs and constant reminders that I have not yet procured anything on his list. Apparently "all I needed to do" was pop into Wicks. The truth be known, until today, I had no idea what "Wicks" was (I thought something to do with a candle) and half of the things on Matt's list were foreign words.
Wicks, apparently, is that large shed of a building opposite Chatham Railway Station where I once received a parking fine for leaving my car whilst attending Craig Mackinlay's barbecue. It's like Homebase for butch men, most of whom were wearing tight jeans and lumberjack shirts. A bit like the Kings Arms in Poland Street without the Kylie.
Matt was like a little boy in a sweet shop, "can I have four of those and two of those and...." whilst I traipsed around behind with my debit card and a look of bewilderment. My only active participation was when he came to buy a mallet. Having used a mallet for many years to bang in mooring pins, I knew the one he was looking at to be wholly unfit for purpose. "Wouldn't you like one of those big ones?" I asked - pointing out a bright yellow thing with a 4.5kg head. His eyes widened like Augustus Gloop spotting a giant gobstopper.
So watch out West Kent - the best equipped Tory Poster Boy is coming to a field, tree or garden near you!