Issue 13 Transcript / Published May 2026 / Approx reading time: 7 minutes

The Crowborough Crusader

A satirical march through Crowborough
 MAY 2026 – Issue 13
 www.crowboroughcrusader.com


Welcome

May 7th is polling day and, in the spirit of fair play, this issue will not feature articles concerning political parties, so as not to interfere with the electoral process.

Advocates of democracy and the freedom of speech: The Crowborough Crusader


The Team

© 2026 The Crowborough Crusader.
 This publication may be shared in full and unaltered form only.
 Not affiliated with any political organisation, campaign or group.


Main Story

“How do I charge it? And how do I connect it to my AirPods?” exclaimed Lottie, a Year 8 student at Bacon Academy, holding a cassette tape.

This week, her class took part in a project imagining what life was like in the 1980s.

Inspired by the discovery of an old desk—recently cleared from storage and destined for the skip—a curious caretaker prised open its locked drawer to reveal a time capsule of confiscated items taken from pupils over 40 years ago.

Among the items were a copy of the Beano, a Rubik’s Cube, and a Walkman complete with a Kajagoogoo cassette tape.

Curious students, under supervision, were allowed to smell the contents of a mostly full can of Lynx: Musk, offering a powerful insight into hygiene back then—many recoiling, unprepared for the heady scent.

Further delving into the drawer revealed another relic: a packet of lemonade-flavoured Spangles. Although deemed unsafe to eat, students examined the packaging, leading to the discovery that in more primitive times, it was not always necessary to list ingredients, highlight allergens, or confirm whether products were suitable for vegans.

However, the absence of certain items also sparked interest.

“Where are the mobile phones that were taken off kids back then, Miss?”

Their faces were agog as Ms Inglink described a time before cellular communication and the internet, suggesting that children read comics, played outside, and rode their bikes.

She did, however, reassure the class that video games existed, adding that she remains unbeaten to this day at Pac-Man.

The Academy has since confirmed that the 1980s will feature more prominently in the revised curriculum, with the day’s activities expected to provide a useful foundation for future examinations.


Page 2

Independent Fact Checkers downgrade Crowborough Beware! trust rating from “Almost Credible” to “Dubious”

By Ron Peepers

Independent Fact Checkers, Crowborough Office of Public Scrutiny (C.O.P.S), have followed up on complaints that the online posts by Crowborough Beware! have been lacking in actual evidence and should be reviewed as a matter of public interest.

It was reported on the 27th April that a non-caucasian male had been walking down Queen’s Road, expectorating in the front gardens of its residents. As such, Crowborough Beware! issued a vital community alert.

After an extensive examination of the post C.O.P.S established that there was a lack of sufficient, reliable, and admissible evidence that would lead to a serious account of wrongdoing and had made the decision to downgrade their public trust rating from “Almost Credible” to “Dubious.”

The online posting began: “Residents have reported a man deliberately spitting into gardens.”

Then implied that his saliva could contain influenza, Covid-19, or Tuberculosis.

Continuing, to give the public the helpful advice to “Avoid Confrontations”, “Record descriptions and times”, and “Report them to the proper authorities”.

All combined with what they thought was indisputable photographic evidence of the suspect.

C.O.P.S analysis revealed:

The evaluation did come back inconclusive as to whether they would issue an alert of this nature to the entire town if they saw someone spitting in the street who didn’t look as though they were an asylum seeker.

Furthermore, the threshold of evidence required before the patrol group shared images of individuals and made accusations was deemed “worryingly low.”

For these reasons, C.O.P.S., with good reason, finds Crowborough Beware! unreliable and should not be treated as fact until it meets the standard of evidence it implies.


The Pink Ladles' trip to London, reportedly, up to 5 have absconded and have yet to return.

By Ron Peepers

The Pink Ladles took a trip to Westminster last week to protest against the danger that women and girls face from uninvited visitors from abroad.

It is the firm stance of The Crowborough Crusader that all people should feel as though they are safe to wander around the streets of the UK, and as such, this serious matter needed to be highlighted with gravitas and decorum. They did not disappoint.

“So, we took selfies of ourselves with a dummy of the Prime Minister dressed as a clown,” grunted Gisele Skullcracker.

The effigy was covered in the word traitor and then put in the stocks, which attracted attention from onlookers.

After being asked multiple times whether they were taking part in a hen party, some interested members of the public got the gist of the unorthodox methods of their campaign and moved on.

In the excitement of the big city, with its bustling streets and fast traffic, as a precaution, some of the younger, more naive members of the organisation were given portable trackers so their whereabouts were known at all times.

However, on a headcount prior to boarding the coach home, 5 of them were missing. Disabling their trackers, they decided to break away and have their own fun.

Police scoured every Wetherspoons pub in a 10-mile radius, which led to their last known location: the beer garden of the Stargazer. The barman informed officers that the women had been offered jobs aboard a fishing boat and had headed to Southend to seek their fortune.

“This is exactly why we needed to tag them,” Gisele sighed, “who knows where they are and what they’re getting up to.”


Page 3

Reaching across the void. An interview with Blackbeard

By Luigi Board

(Full article preserved exactly as written)

I am quite the private man, and I make little known about myself; however, I can confirm I am a member of the all-male Crowborough-based choir: The XY Crow’m’Tones, which have been exclusively practising sea shanties for the last few weeks.

In a bid for more authenticity, I decided to contact one of the most fearsome pirates imaginable for tips, Mr Edward Teach, aka Blackbeard.

I began the ritual by sitting at the picnic bench on the patio. I placed the game Pop-up-Pirate in the centre, surrounded by shot glasses of coconut rum. Every time I placed a plastic cutlass in the barrel. I drank a shot. Beginning to get into a woozy trance-like state, the pirate leapt from the barrel and hit me square in the forehead. It all went dark as I transcended the spiritual plane.

I called out through the darkness, “Blackbeard, it is I, Luigi Board. Can you hear me clearly across the veil?”

“Aye, I can. What matters do you have to discuss, you salty dog?”

He had stained under his eyes with charcoal, lit fuses in his beard, and looked the epitome of danger. At this point, I was doubting whether our connection was wise.

“Say your words, for my patience be waning rapidly.”

I enquired that I wanted to know about the sea shanties sung on ships in the time he reigned over the Caribbean.

“I’ll answer three of your questions only,” he replied, “but if you push ye luck and enquire further, I shall gut you like a codfish on the spot.”

Agreeing to his terms, I commenced with the first pressing issue.

I asked him whether he and his crew preferred “What shall we do with a drunken sailor?” or “Blow the man down”.

Blackbeard’s dark black eyes flickered.

“If a member of my crew be singing that modern-day pop, they’d be keelhauled! I’m more of a 1700s kind of a fellow rather than that 1800s gibberish.”

He continued, “Give me a rousing classic like ‘Haul on the Bowline’ or ‘Spanish Ladies’, but I’m not so keen on ‘The Downfall of Piracy’ the one chronicling my death.”

I nodded sympathetically.

“Next!” He bellowed at me.

“What is the secret to an authentic, rich, maritime voice?”

He flashed a smile under the tangles of black, matted beard.

“Well, ‘tis simple. To be gloriously and unabashedly sozzled. Completely rum-soaked at all times, it fires the belly, puts wind in your sails, and frees the spirit of song from even the tightest locked chest.

In fact, the first time I got drunk, I was a clean-shaven cabin boy and eager to get my first tattoo, I wrote down (whilst half-cut) the name of my local back in Bristol, thinking it would make a great pirate name. But I must have scribbled it down wrong, and what should have been “Black Bear” was turned into Blackbeard... so then I had no choice but to grow one. Not a lot of people know that.”

After catching himself drifting, Blackbeard steeled his demeanor.

“One left, Boyo.”

I thought wisely and decided my last question should be one that might benefit the people of Crowborough.

I asked, seeing as he kept a crew of solely men, in restricted conditions, why he allowed them to drink.

“Well if port be good enough for a snooty lord, congac for an admiral then my boys deserve to kick back a little with a drink.

They might not be as high and mighty as others perceive, but I won’t deny them a few creature comforts.

Also, many have come from afar, no family, alone in the world. Having a grog or two and bonding with your crewmates and forgetting past miseries for a moment can do a whole mountain of good for morale.

As long as it doesn’t get too out of hand, what’s the harm?”

The fuses on his beard burned smokier than before until he disappeared within the dark clouds.

Suddenly, I was transported back to my garden. Lifting my head from the bench, I could feel that my neck had caught the sun a little, and when I lifted my head, I noticed a small, green, plastic cutlass stuck to my forehead.


Pages 4–7 (Condensed but Complete)

Letters to the Editor


Puzzletime

Maths problem about changing numbers of protesters vs counter-protesters.
 Calculators permitted.


Notices


A Little Raya Flight

Celebration of Olympic skeleton champion Matt Weston, highlighting resilience, injuries, and community pride.


Our Streets – Photo of the Week

“Crowborough Camp Temperance Society”
 Submitted by Len Smearer


Advert

Jarvis Brook Meat Seasonings Emporium
 “All stock must go!”


Final Thought – Ron Peepers

Thursday is local election day, the chance to vote for who you think will act responsibly to represent, repair, and rejuvenate the town. It is your choice and your choice alone.

The Crowborough Crusader strives to keep you informed each week, and it is with that thought in mind that I urge you, whomever you vote for, to make an informed decision based on their track record, their own words, and your own judgement.

There is patriotic pride in having a country ruled by a democracy and in how each citizen is afforded the right to vote, but no greater or lesser patriotism for voting for any particular party.

Of course, this particular notice has run on a little more than usual, and as such, we simply haven’t got the time left to inform you of the improved food bin collection and to let you know the upcoming plans for the town’s hanging baskets.


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