Green Custard and Bans

What joy, today, to see the oleaginous one - aka Lord Mandelson of Pride - take a dollop of green slime full in the face.

Its been a week for memories: and this was so reminiscent of a long-lost political era in which Young Liberals poured ink over Prime Minister Edward Heath, and eggs were thrown at Michael Hesseltine. The latter was an especially cruel act, given the length of the man's hair: no doubt a lengthy session with the Head n Shoulders in the bath tub, followed.

And yes. Oh yes, oh yes. Of course it would have been dreadful if the tub had contained not green custard, but sulphuric acid. Or boiling coffee. Or some equally deadly concoction.

But puh-lease can we debate this without the po-faced policeman who turned up on the Beeb's News at One to mutter about 'Elf an Safety.

We've heard this one before, sort of, in respect of Fathers for Justice: don't go climbing up the side of Buck Palace, or we might accidentally have to shoot you.

Don't go doing direct action because it might look a bit like someone doing something really nasty. And oh dear, what if some of that custard had got into Lord Mandy's eyes?

Its another of those very English things. In darkest Africa, the authorities ban politics as blatantly as they wish. Say something we don't like: whump! You're banned.

Here, the Council will send you a bill for any leaflets that you handed out that got left as "litter" anywhere. You need to fill out a Risk Assessment in advance of a demo. And now Direct Action needs to take account of safety.

Sometimes I just want to tear my hair out.

Politics in Britain is being killed not by the heavy fist of oppression, but by the slow carbon monoxide of red tape.

Or treacle.

Now there's something to chuck over a politician. If they would only stand still long enough....