GARMISCH-PARTENKIRCHEN, GERMANY — In a world of natural wonders, few are as misunderstood as the Wank. Nestled in the Ester Mountains near Garmisch-Partenkirchen, this towering peak rises to 1,780 metres, a majestic presence in the Loisach Valley. Yet, despite its beauty, the mountain has one major flaw: its name.
By Our Entertainment Editor: Arthur Pint
The Wank is a source of unrelenting amusement for tourists and locals alike, as the word “wank” holds certain, shall we say, unsavoury connotations in English. “It’s a bit of a laugh,” said one British visitor, “but I think I’ll just call it ‘the peak.’”
Tourists keep coming
For those brave enough to board the Wankbahn—the cable car that connects Garmisch-Partenkirchen to the summit—there is year-round access, thanks to the ‘Wankpass’. Yes, really. This cable car, which operates daily from May to September, is arguably one of the most popular means of reaching the top without breaking a sweat.
Yet, despite its less-than-ideal name, the Wank has become something of a cult attraction for hikers and thrill-seekers. Some even take pride in posing with a “Wank” sign for photographs. “I came for the views, but stayed for the laughs,” commented one tourist, clutching their Wankpass.
Though German speakers are likely to be unfazed by the name, international visitors are left to marvel at how something so stunning can have such a comedic moniker.
The arrivals hall hums brighter than a kookaburra at sunrise. Wheelie bags clatter, wide smiles beam and someone already asks where to find a flat white the size of a salad bowl. The premise is simple, there is a genuine travel boom to Australia and the nation has responded the only way it knows how, with hospitality, patience and a biscuit that insists on being dunked.
Welcome packs and conditional Tim Tams
Tourism boards have long debated the ideal welcome pack. This season’s starter kit features a reusable tote, SPF that could glaze a doughnut and a pocket dictionary that translates g’day into roughly fourteen social contexts. The Tim Tam is included, but it is issued under strict conditions. You must agree to try the Tim Tam Slam at least once, otherwise the biscuit will judge you forever. Customs does not enforce this, the biscuits handle their own compliance.
American visitors arrive well researched and slightly startled. They know about koalas, they know about long flights and they are aware that a magpie is not just a bird, it is a seasonal lifestyle hazard. What surprises them is the tempo. Australia moves confidently but never hurried, like a barista who knows the milk will only froth on its own schedule. It takes fifteen minutes to learn that queues are sacred, that the ocean is beautiful yet opinionated and that no one calls a BBQ a cookout.
The accent exchange program
Within hours a linguistic exchange begins. Visitors try on new vowels like hats at a market stall. They retire the hard R, test drive “mate,” and discover that “yeah nah” is a whole decision tree. Locals return the favour by adopting the American enthusiasm setting, which is dialled to eleven by default. Everyone wins because compliment inflation pairs well with coffee.
The most important phrase is a quiet one, no worries. It ends conversations with a friendly parachute and it lowers the collective pulse. An American who masters this phrase finds that doors open, playlists improve and strangers will point out the better side of the beach without being asked.
How to blend in without buying a cork hat
Blending in is easy if you skip the obvious traps and embrace the basics. A short guide for visiting friends who want to look like they belong by day three:
Learn the difference between a servo and a bottle shop before you are thirsty
Order a long black when you feel ambitious, a flat white when you feel sensible
Accept that thongs mean footwear and you will save everyone time
Treat the ocean like a gym coach, friendly until you ignore the rules
Ask locals where they go on a Sunday afternoon, then go there and pretend you were headed that way anyway
This approach works in cities and small towns, from laneway murals to quiet coastal walks where the loudest sound is your own new sunscreen squeaking.
Tea as foreign policy
The title promised tea and tea shall be delivered. Tea is not just a beverage in Australia, it is a tactic. When storms cancel ferries, when relatives debate the best footy code, when the dog eats a third sock before breakfast, the kettle goes on. Visitors who accept tea at random moments are inducted into a gentle diplomacy that solves small problems with heat and patience. There is a reason every argument sounds better after a cuppa.
Coffee gets the headlines, tea gets the wins. You may enter as a filter coffee loyalist and leave with a taste for something steeped, which is the kind of soft power numbers do not capture.
The itinerary arms race
Americans love a schedule and Australia loves to pretend it does not. Together they build itineraries that include sunrise coastal walks, indoor markets and a sensible nap. The temptation is to stack experiences like pancakes, which is forgivable, but the wiser path is to pick a suburb and let it unfold. Sit in a park long enough and a local will appear with a dog you can legally admire. Stay in a pub long enough and you will learn the word pokies, which is never translated and you will acquire an opinion about parmas that you did not know you needed.
The winning day often looks like this:
Coffee that could power a tram
A ferry ride that counts as a view and a commute
A beach where the sand has better posture than you
An art stop that convinces you to buy a tiny print
Dinner that arrives on plates the size of record sleeves
Tea, obviously
What Australia gets right
The charm is not in the spectacle, it is in the small calibrations. Crosswalks that chirp helpfully, water fountains that do not play hard to get, staff who will suggest a better order if they sense hesitation. Hospitality is practical and proud without being loud, which is why visitors become repeat visitors. They go home knowing there is a place far away where strangers asked about their day and seemed to care about the answer.
A polite farewell and an open invite
Eventually departures happen. Suitcases are heavier, accents are elastic and camera rolls are full of skies that look edited but are not. At the gate, an attendant says no worries and it lands differently than it did on day one. It sounds like a promise that the trip will keep paying dividends when you are back at your desk.
The kettle goes on again somewhere, because someone else has just arrived. Australia is busy welcoming new friends, teaching the advanced forms of g’day and refilling the biscuit tin. If the arrivals hall feels like a reunion these days, that is because it is. The country has always been good at making room and right now the room just happens to include a few more Americans who know how to order a flat white without blinking.
LOWESTOFT – Christmas has come early—far too early—for crooks in Lowestoft after the InPost parcel locker in the Sainsbury’s car park was found with several of its compartments forced open, earning it the now-widely adopted nickname “The Ferrel Advent Calendar.”
The incident, which police are describing as “a disappointingly on-brand bit of festive opportunism,” involved petty criminals prising open more than a dozen locker doors in what witnesses say resembled “an enthusiastic but morally questionable countdown to Christmas.”
By mid-morning, the locker stood with its doors flapping in the wind like a heavily ransacked advent calendar whose chocolates had all been scoffed by someone who couldn’t wait for December.
Advented story
According to locals, this is not the first time the unit has been tampered with. “Last year it was only two boxes. This year they’ve done half the thing in one go,” said one shopper, who likened the scene to “the aftermath of a toddler left unsupervised with a cardboard Santa.” Another resident said the name “Ferrel Advent Calendar” had “caught on quicker than a Boxing Day return queue.”
InPost confirmed the damage, stressing that security upgrades were already planned. “We do not encourage the premature opening of any compartments,” an InPost spokesperson said. “We particularly discourage the opening of compartments using crowbars.”
Suffolk Police are investigating, reviewing CCTV, and appealing for witnesses who may have seen individuals acting suspiciously “with tools, festive enthusiasm, or both.”
Sainsbury’s said it hopes to have the locker fully repaired “before anyone starts calling it the New Year’s Clearance Sale.”
Admired Christmas tree revealed as cannabis plants after police raid.
By Our Crime Editor: Rob Banks
Residents of a quiet cul-de-sac in Bury St Edmunds were left red-faced this week after discovering that the beautifully illuminated “Christmas tree” glowing cheerfully from an upstairs window was, in fact, a thriving row of six-foot cannabis plants.
For several weeks in December, neighbours had commented admiringly on the warm green glow emanating from number 14. Some praised the “tasteful lighting,” while others remarked on the “impressively tall silhouette” of what they assumed was a particularly healthy Norway spruce. One resident even confessed she had taken a photo for inspiration next year.
The truth emerged abruptly during a full Police raid last Thursday, when officers stormed the property and revealed that the supposed festive centrepiece was actually a well-established homegrown cannabis operation, complete with heat lamps, reflective foil, and a ventilation system that had been mistaken locally for “very committed Christmas spirit.”
PC Darren Mallory, who led the raid, confirmed: “It wasn’t a Christmas tree. It wasn’t even close. Although I will say, the lighting arrangement was surprisingly elegant.”
Pot Plant
Neighbours gathered outside in their dressing gowns as officers carried out evidence, including several enormous cannabis plants that, ironically, looked more festive coming down the stairs than they ever had going up.
“I feel daft now,” admitted one neighbuor. “I told everyone it was the best tree on the street. I even said it looked ‘spiffing.’ Turns out it was more like ‘spliffing.’”
Another resident said she had initially suspected something was odd when she noticed the “tree” appeared to get taller after New Year. “I just thought they were giving it plant food,” she added.
As the investigation continues, neighbors have agreed on one thing: next Christmas, they’ll be a lot more cautious before praising anyone’s decorations—especially if the tree appears to grow several inches a week.
Baguette-Leg Marathon Hopeful Sets Sights on Charity Record
By Our Sports Correspondent: Bernie Legg
LAKENHEATH, SUFFOLK – In what organisers are describing as “the most carbohydrate-intensive athletic attempt in British history,” former soldier Corporal Mark Henshaw (ret.) has unveiled the custom baguette prosthetic limbs he plans to use in next month’s Charity Ultra-Marathon.
Henshaw, who lost both legs during active service, said the idea came to him during a late-night supermarket run, when he noticed the “structural integrity and surprising aerodynamic qualities” of a supermarket French stick. Teaming up with a local prosthetics lab—and, reportedly, a very confused artisan baker—he commissioned a pair of easily attachable, bakery-fresh baguette legs.
Army leggy
At a press conference held outside Greggs, Henshaw explained his motivation with military bluntness. “People run marathons dressed as rhinos and telephone boxes. I figured two baguettes for legs wasn’t that outrageous. And if it makes people donate more, then crack on.”
Early test runs have apparently gone “remarkably well and charities have already expressed delight at his campaign, with donations topping £42,000 before the first official training mile. A spokesperson for Veterans Forward called the stunt “a perfect mix of bravery, innovation, and complex carbohydrates.”
If all goes to plan, Henshaw hopes to break the unofficial record for “Fastest Marathon Completed on Baked Prosthetics,” currently held by a man who ran the 2019 London Marathon wearing bloomer running shoes.
Asked what comes next, Henshaw hinted at further bakery-based innovations. “If these work,” he said, “I might try crumpet elbow pads.”
Hollywood’s Ben Affleck quietly takes shelf-stacking job at Tesco Lowestoft, Suffolk.
By Our Angling Correspondent: Courtney Pike
Residents of Lowestoft were left doing double-takes this week after spotting Hollywood A-lister Ben Affleck stacking tins of own-brand spaghetti hoops in the Tesco Extra on Leisure Way. Affleck, 53, who has starred in blockbuster films such as Argo, Batman v Superman, and the lesser-remembered Gigli, has reportedly taken up a part-time shelf-filling role after what insiders are calling a “temporary lull” in major movie opportunities.
Customers initially assumed the man in the navy Tesco fleece was simply a very tired lookalike. But doubts evaporated when the real Affleck was photographed behind the store, smoking a cigarette and staring into the abyss with the sort of expression last seen during his Sad Affleck interview days. One witness reported, “He looked like a man who’d just been asked where the gluten-free couscous is for the 14th time.”
Tesco Suffolk
Tesco management have insisted they “treat all colleagues equally,” though staff claim there was a brief scramble when someone asked whether he could sign their Clubcard. A spokesperson confirmed that Affleck works the early morning shift “mainly on ambient goods, occasionally helping in the bakery when he’s feeling brave.”
Sources close to the actor say the move is part of a “personal reset,” allowing him to focus on “simple, grounding tasks” like aligning jars of own-brand mayonnaise and being berated by customers for the self-checkout machines’ refusal to scan bananas.
Locals, meanwhile, have embraced their new celebrity stock assistant. One regular shopper said, “It’s nice to see someone from Hollywood finally doing an honest day’s work. And he put my lasagna in a bag without squashing it, which is more than I can say for some.”
When asked whether he plans to return to movies, Affleck reportedly shrugged and said, “Maybe. Depends on what the rota looks like.”
Local burger van rebrands “Two Guys” after Five Guys opens opposite.
By Our Consumer Correspondent: Colin Allcabs
IPSWICH – A longtime burger van operator has re-branded his van “Two Guys”, after last week’s grand opening of a branch of the US fast-food giant Five Guys opposite his pitch.
Owner Kevin Kakan, 29, told reporters he wasn’t deterred by the arrival of the multinational chain — in fact, their arrival “gave me a good laugh, and an idea.” Having spotted a second-hand van emblazoned in red-and-white checkers (eerily similar to Five Guys’ house colours), he bought it for £10,000 and turned it into “Two Guys,” parked directly opposite the new outlet.
Kakan claims business is already brisk despite the inclement Suffolk weather. “We cook everything fresh, we do breakfast rolls, bacon, sausages, burgers — and we’re open long hours,” he said. “If those big burgers are too pricey, we’re the lads doing it cheap and cheerful.”
Two into five don’t go
According to regulars and early customers, the atmosphere is part greasy-spatula charm, part underdog coup. One local motorist waiting for his order shouted over the sizzle: “Mate, I ain’t going for fries that cost me more than my house — I’ll have a bacon bap from Two Guys, thanks!”
Predictably, rev-head satire soon followed on social media. One user quipped, “Five Guys vs Two Guys: welcome to burger-gate 2025.” Others speculated about potential legal action, but Kakan remained unruffled: “If they’ve got a problem, they can always open ‘Three Guys’ next door. More burgers for everyone.”
For now, “Two Guys” continues trading — offering burgers, breakfast baps and quick bites to customers who value affordability, attitude, and a side of cheeky defiance. Whether the name will hold or become the next fast-food punchline remains to be seen.
LONDON – In a bold tribute to 80 years of post-war progress, the Royal Mail has announced a commemorative set of stamps to mark the anniversary of Victory in Europe Day, reminding the public precisely what the “greatest generation” gave their lives to protect.
By Our Consumer Correspondent: Colin Allcabs
The four-stamp collection, tastefully entitled “What We Fought For”, is said to reflect the “rich tapestry” of modern Britain—a nation forged in the fires of wartime heroism and now smouldering in a peculiar kind of domestic chaos.
First up: a poignant image of uncollected rubbish festering on the streets of Birmingham, representing the enduring British value of stubborn local government disputes. Next, a touching snapshot of illegal migrants in dinghies crossing the Channel, said to symbolise “our proud maritime history and global appeal.”
The third stamp features a group of university students protesting passionately for trans rights, capturing the essence of Britain’s vibrant tradition of shouting at statues. Rounding off the set is a dramatic scene of a London street protest, with angry Muslims waving Palestinian flags—an image Royal Mail insists “reflects our proud commitment to free speech, conditional on not upsetting the Daily Mail.”
First class woke
A spokesperson for the Royal Mail said the stamps “celebrate the diverse ways in which Britain has evolved—or at least changed direction—since Sir Winston Churchill lit a cigar and declared Europe victorious.”
Critics have called the collection “deeply unpatriotic,” while supporters insist it’s “First class woke!”
Vera Lynn could not be reached for comment, on account of having passed away, though one imagines the bluebirds might be circling overhead in quiet confusion.
The stamp set will be available from May 8th, Victory in Europe Day.
