THE Editor informs me that the Gazette’s website is now better than ever before.

Apparently it includes everything from local village news to the very latest updates from “I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here”.

Having seen the show, I think we should rename it “Most of them are barely celebrities, leave them in there”.

Already the national headlines are taken up with some page three girl who ate kangaroo testicles and asked if she could get pregnant.

While the national press laughs at her and makes snide comments about her biggest assets not being intelligence and common sense, they also do not hesitate to publish pictures of her in a bikini every time she takes a shower.

Tendring Talk’s problem with this programme is that it is not challenging enough – although to be fair, spending time with Esther Rantzen and Robert Kilroy-Silk is a tough prospect.

What they need to do is get an island that is cold, wet and dark, give them some money tokens but then keep raising the prices so it is is a struggle to clothe, heat and feed themselves, give them plenty of cheap booze to start trouble, make them work like slaves to pay taxes, make sure nothing really works properly, make sure there is lots of social discontent, and then cover it with more CCTV cameras than anywhere else in the world and film it all.

They could call it “This is Britain, get me out of here”.

Tendring Talk recently enjoyed a trip to the Secret Nuclear Bunker at Kelvedon Hatch.

This massive underground structure, built to withstand a nuclear blast, was to have been the seat of government if the cold war hotted up to nuclear temperatures. It is a great place to visit, and what is particularly beguiling is the fact for years almost no-one knew it was there. Its construction and existence was largely shrouded in secrecy as obviously they did not want eight million Londoners fleeing the forthcoming mushroom clouds trying to break in.

It has solved one mystery for us though! Why the council spent so much on Frinton’s fancy toilets!

Surely underneath is Tendring Council’s secret nuclear bunker where the council chiefs would gather if it all goes belly up. They could safely sit there, protected and comfortable, dreaming up schemes and dreaming of their pensions while outside everything turns to rubble.

Not that much different to some council offices around the country then. Not Tendring, obviously!