Tales from Backwater Britain - Gary Glitter Caravan Park

If you live in Britain, reporting from somewhere other than London is terrible. I've begged my editor to let me work where news takes place, where real events happen, in a city of endless reportage, of WIFI hotspots, celebrities, second homes, Alan Sugar—people who matter. However, as I'm a) not talented enough to live in London, and b) annoying in an office environment, VICE has taken me on as a roving reporter. Something I'm in no way bitter about. Like a happier John Craven stuck in a pissing field, in the middle of fucking nowhere talking to imbeciles about why Gary Glitter wants to move to Saddleworth.

Greenfield, Saddleworth
"GLITTER GOSSIP NOT SO GLAM"
(via The Oldham Chronicle)

Pedo's lair? The "Blinking big" caravan the pervert Gary may or may not be hiding in.

Coincidentally, this week's big news is that Gary Glitter is living in a caravan in Greenfield, Saddleworth. Packing my jam sandwiches and a thermos full of tears into a knapsack constructed from copies of the London dailies I wish my name appeared in, I headed to Saddleworth and found Sharon, a local shop assistant and concerned mother. I asked her about the allegations.

"He was supposed to be looking for a house," she said. "Someone's mother saw him at the co-op—my daughter goes to the same school as this woman's son."

If there's one thing I've learned from my years exiled in this country's provinces, it's that the people of Greenfield, Saddleworth would kill their own children before they doubted any idle shred of playground gossip. But, for once, it appeared that this might not be gossip. Respectable local newspaper the Manchester Evening News reported that Gary Glitter, aka Paul Gadd, aka the Gaddmonster, aka Gary the Git, was looking to move to the area after his release from a Thai jail. So, the next port of call was the aforementioned co-op, where we spoke to Debbie, the supervisor. The lovely Debbie claimed that if the pervert Gary Glitter had been in her shop, she would have bloody well known about it. "I haven't seen him in here. Mind you, I wouldn't serve him. Rumor has it he's in the blinking big caravan by Well i' th' Hole."

Well i' th' Hole, a mecca for the brass bands of the Metropolitan Borough of Oldham sited near a number of local suicide hotspots, is a place I know well. However, when I arrived at the campsite I found that the "blinking big" one was vacant. Fortunately, neighbor Howard Jones was able to shed some light on the matter.

Chinese Whispers… neighbor, Howard Jones

"It's a shame. She seems like a really nice girl. All the abuse she's getting is cruel."

"'She? So Gary Glitter's not living here, then?"

"No, it's what we call in motorhome circles, 'Chinese Whispers…' The police turned up for five minutes, then left. They didn't seem that concerned." Alas, it seemed that local reporter Lewis Jones had solved the riddle before I could. Lewis' diligent work in The Oldham Chronicle revealed that the owner of the "blinking big caravan" is one Amanda Lyons, a yoga teacher and holistic therapist. She may be a witch, but at least she doesn't touch kids.

"We don’t know where the rumor has come from," Lyons told the Chronicle. "People have knocked on the door out of interest, while others have had the look of vigilantes. “A group of men turned up and said I better get it sorted because people on Facebook had been threatening to burn the caravan down. On another occasion, a group of teenage lads came knocking on the door at 2 AM shouting 'Gary!’ I came out and they were taking pictures and shoving me around. I had to call the police.”

I may have missed out on yet another hot scoop, but at least the people of Saddleworth will be able to sleep easier in their beds tonight. Not to mention the police of Stalybridge, who have apparently been bombarded with anxious phone calls. I've no idea why—Stalybridge is at least a 15-minute drive away! Though, if my town had a trading estate as impressive as theirs, I'd probably be paranoid and overly-protective of it, too.

Samuel Breen continues to surf the backwaters of Britain for nebulous and nefarious news stories on page two.

Whitehaven, Cumbria
"RARE TURTLE FOUND AT ST. BEES"
(via Whitehaven News)

St Bees: great parking facilities

Thankfully, the strange case of the phantom pedophile wasn't the only (non)event that took place in the provinces this week. In a stroke of luck, a rare leatherback turtle turned up on St. Bees beach.

"RARE TURTLE FOUND AT ST. BEES," screamed The Whitehaven News on Thursday. Local "trainee marine conservation officer" Nicola Taylor, of Cumbria Wildlife Trust, was overcome with the sort of joy that I'm now incapable of feeling.

"Having these majestic animals in our waters is a privilege," beamed Ms. Taylor, "but seeing them alive and well in their environment is surely preferable than washed up on our beaches," hinting that the hysteria surrounding the turtle's arrival may have been a little ill-placed, given that it was dead. Rather than revel in the carnival atmosphere that Whitehaven's newest friend had generated in the town, in-depth business publication In-Cumbria took a harder investigative line with the story. Their steely eyes landed upon Alan Wright, a member of the Cumbria Wildlife Trust.

"It was in such a bad condition, it's not easy to say [how it died]," he said, venturing that the animal locals have christened "the Thames Whale of the Cumbrian Coast Line" may have met its demise at the hands of "boat propellers" or by "eating a plastic bag."

Here's a picture of it if you wanna see it. Actually, to hell with it, I'll put it in this blog. It looks a lot like my love life. Crossed with snot.

Norwich, Norfolk
"NORWICH FAMILY LEFT SHOCKED AFTER FIREWORK PUT THROUGH THEIR LETTERBOX"
(via Norwich Evening News)

Shaken and upset: the Smith family

In more predictable news, there are a slew of stories in the local press about people putting fireworks in other peoples' mailboxes. The British public's enthusiasm for creating pyrotechnic spectacles in the homes of those who've opted out of Guy Fawkes Night creates hundreds of "terrifying experiences" for local reporters to plaster hysterically over their pages every year. For melodrama, it's hard to look past the harrowing tale recounted by the Smith family from Norwich.

"The Smiths, of Mousehold Avenue, were all in bed asleep when a loud bang awoke the family at around 1:10 AM," writes The Norwich Evening News' David Freezer, helpfully recreating the sound of a firework in the minds of readers presumably too dense to imagine it themselves.

Police and paramedics were called out to comfort the "shaken and upset family," though thankfully, "after treatment from paramedics Mrs. Smith did not need hospital treatment." She was, however, left with "a very sore throat."

The rogue firework also damaged "the bottom step of the still-carpeted stairs." ("Ann's husband Craig, 42, has recently been replacing the carpet with laminate flooring.") In other news, I think my mailman has been keeping something from me, possibly Pizza Hut "meal deal" coupons. More news when we get it.

Do you live in Britain? Is there something happening in your area that our roving reporter should know about? Email us.