Accidental or not, a brewery’s choice of name for it latest festive ale is insensitive in the extreme.
As first revealed on Wednesday, click here to read the story, the brewer has labelled its latest tipple as the Beachy Head Jumper - coupled with an illustration showing the infamous suicide spot.
As proud as Eastbourne is of its beautiful coastline, locals shudder and visitors are disbelieving that such an idyllic setting should have gained notoriety as Britain’s suicide blackspot.
The brewery’s insistence was that the name was coincidental, after the beer innocently started life with a pump clip showing Santa in a big woolly pullover.
Maybe so, but the reaction to our story from those who have lost loved ones - along with the nation’s media - shows how badly wrong they got it.
Beachy Head Brewery is a valued local business with a loyal following, and its tongue-in-cheek humour is something of a trademark. Santa in a big woolly jumper would no doubt chuckle himself that he had caused such a stir... in almost any other circumstances.
Beachy Head doesn’t deserve its notoriety but it can’t escape it. Just as those who who have lost loved ones are haunted by those memories.
So in the spirit of this season, the brewery shouldn’t be subjected to a witchhunt. Likewise, it should face up to its mistake, rename the beer and avoid any further accusation of marketing through misfortune.
HOW badly do they want it? That was the question being asked at Priory Lane again last Saturday as Eastbourne Borough limped to a draw against Dartford, in front of just 508 fans.
What a far cry from attendances of almost three times that many as the Boro’ enjoyed life in the Blue Square Premier.
Yes, the club needs time to adapt to life in a league lower and, yes, there is something to be said for building a solid platform so that next time around it can compete as an equal. But none of that excuses a lack of ambition nor the staleness that now appears to pervade Priory Lane.
Here was a rags to riches rise - but without the riches. Danger now is that a precious legacy will evaporate forever unless Boro’ finds a new lease of life.
FUNNY how those much-maligned ornamental white lions have a habit of turning up in unexpected places.
The planners who banished them from the Pevensey marshes had hoped they’d seen the last of them. Now they not only adorn a seafront hotel and a roundabout, but one of of their pride is now proudly sitting alongside Eastbourne bandstand.
After Christmas, who knows? These concrete kings of the jungle clearly have a life of their own.