There's a handmade sign next the M25 for the infamous Sugar Hut nightclub and SlyBob think they'll fit right in. No time now, though, to top up the tans or to get one's teeth bleached because the wrong, one of several ways, actually, in Essex has been taken.
The means Brentwood has been bypassed completely ending up in Maldon, which is famous for its salt. Oh no! The condiments have only gone and got mixed up and don't you just hate it when that happens?
First impressions are that it's busy, very busy, and it's like Piccalilli Circus trying to find space in the White Horse Lane Car Park.
Yes, that's more of a relish and not strictly a condiment but sugar isn't neither, really, and it's because of that stupid sign and a fictitious wrong turn, we've written ourselves into a right pickle.
Beyond the pub being handy for a quick ketchup with your pals and the cafe's sandwiches cutting the mustard, there simply aren't any more.
You spend the rest of the afternoon trying to think of some more, seriously.
It's a handsome-looking high street and the highlight is the Moot Hall, debatedly. Some of the tower is still from the 15th century, they say, and they'll let you up and inside, with a guide, when in season.
Formerly a police station, courthouse and prison, they're still handing out life sentences... for stealing a heart and 'till death us do part'!
It's a popular wedding venue, you see, where you can pose for your snaps up a height. It was originally part of some landed family's mansion and the la-di-da D'arcys sold it to town at a knockdown price.
It's not thought, however, that the reason was one of them got the glad eye for a lass oop north.
Impossibly efficient service in this busy café with plenty of seating outside, when in season. It looks and feels to be part of an old pub but it's more like vast orders, these days, as you check out the size of the slices of home-made cake.
They would once have had weddings at St Peter's Church, probably, but it's been a private library since the beginning of the 18th century.
Thomas Plume, a local lad then vicaring in Greenwich, rebuilt the church and put up some shelves for his collection of ancient and largely academic texts.
It's a by-appointment-only situation for scholarly types and nearly all of the 8,000-or-so publications are still here with just a handful missing and issued with outstanding fines.
There's no such need to shush downstairs in the Maeldune Heritage Centre although you might go sheesh at their 40-foot embroidery. It would have taken a single individual over 300 years to complete, which would have made the 1991 deadline tight.
Luckily, there were 86 ladies on hand so it only took three-and-a-half years and was indeed in time, stitch-wise. It commemorates 1,000 years of Maldon history since some famous battle or other but unlike the Bayeux, this one is a riot of colour.
But isn't the Bayeux a tapestry and is there even any difference? Oof! Don't get some people started on that.
Kinder comments have been read about Katie Hopkins than for some innocent individuals who happen to have gotten them mixed up and none of us aren't none the wiser, really.
There's been a port, of sorts, here since Saxon times and the Hythe is home to a number of Thames Sailing Barges.
They're in various stages of restoration for the recreational and, once common on the East Coast, were still working well into the '60s. At least they were according to the required reading they've laid on for the not-so-nautically inclined.
The waders on the flats of the River Chelmer aren't always so relaxed and, one random Sunday each May, this is the site of the world-famous, apparently, Maldon Mud Race.
This 500-metre free-for-all through the thick, sticky stuff isn't such a frivolous frolic as you first think. It raises tens of thousands of pounds for local charities so it's good, but definitely not, clean fun.
The quay might look like it runs out but persevere to arrive at Promenade Park, Maldon's prime piece of public greenery.
There's a pair of lakes, one shown, a kiddies play area and a noodle bar, obviously, not shown, but let's not forget the statue of Byrhtnoth. Byrhtwhat?
The Battle of Maldon was won on away goals by the Vikings in 991 but the home team's Anglo-Saxon captain put in a plucky, some say heroic, performance. He's not just celebrated here but in an epic poem, which is a very early example of a match report, really.
This is the best park in Essex, scratch that in the UK, scratch that in the world! Not unless, that is, you find yourself in Colchester, which will have you thinking the same thing, just in Colchester.
This one is so good, the only other evidence that has since been found is a substandard snap of some grass and that could be just about anywhere. Inexcusable.
Meanwhile, back on the high street, there's either a real sense of pride or a complete lack of imagination along here. It's all Maldon this and Maldon that on the shopfronts with Nails, Gadgets and Fireplaces particularly well represented.
Best of all, though, is Maldon Pie and Mash and, get this, it's just two doors up from a micropub! The Farmers Yard is the smallest pub in Maldon, they say, and might still be an outlet for the Maldon Brewing Company although other guests are available.
There's also a tandoori within 100 yards so that just begs the question... why aren't SlyBob staying here for a week?
There's stiff competition, balti-wise, and Chilli's, RIP, were trying to tempt you in with Mike Memphis, an Elvis tribute act, obviously.
The connection is unclear, or even if there is one, but he'll be taking requests for 'In the Ghee-tto', 'Karai-ing in the Chapel' and 'Love me Tender' pieces of lamb cooked with our own special mix of herbs and spices.
Unlike the condiments, this one could run all night... 'Aloo shook up'?