Tangled up in red tape

I have just been presented with a list of 180 separate pieces of red tape planning legislation to filter through and decide which we ought to comment upon, so that the government, bless their little cotton socks, can decide which to scrap and which to retain.

If my employers think I am going to read all that lot, they are seriously mistaken. I have foisted quite a few off onto colleagues, and have just gone through the headings of the rest trying to find something remotely interesting.

But the point is, why the f**k are there 180 separate pieces of legislation in the first place? If there are 180 just dealing with planning law, how many are there dealing with really serious stuff like care of vulnerable children and adults, with education and public health? No wonder the Civil Service is so huge; they must spend vast amounts of their time just filtering through this drivel trying to find something meaningful and useful.

To give credit where it is due, the Department of Communities and Local Government is trying to streamline stuff like this and that’s why they are asking for our comments. But they must know that the vast majority of it is useless and the rest could be distilled into one or two relatively short, plain English documents that would be understandable by planning geeks and Joe Public alike, and which would make all our lives easier. Why do they need us to tell them? Aren’t they supposed to be the experts?

But then CLG has been a shambles ever since the ignoramus Eric Pickles took the helm. What David Cameron sees in the man is a complete mystery, and how he survived the last reshuffle even more so. I have long been convinced that he is a Slitheen, which any aficionado of Doctor Who will know is an alien shaped like a big green pig which disguises itself inside a zipped up human skin, and which farts all the time in a particularly loud and noxious way. Having never been in the room with Mr Pickles I cannot personally comment on whether the farting takes place, but all the outward signs of Slitheen-ness are there.

So I am now going to waste probably several days of my life going through this rubbish just to say at the end of it that we ought to recommend scrapping 95% and rewriting the rest. Not that I’m pre-empting the outcomes, but it is almost inevitable. So I better get to it, or maybe I ought to save it up for this afternoon and the ‘graveyard slot’ so that it can help me nod off in a quiet corner where my colleagues won’t notice.

Difficult decision!