Talking Rabbish: Right, here they are - the new laws of the land

The first measure relates to my one-person campaign against horticultural racket. I’ve no idea why this remains a one-man campaign. Am I the last person on Earth with ears, or at least a degree of sensitivity?

Well, I’m here to give the racketeers an ear-bashing, though first I’d better ’fess up: I myself have an electric Flymo and I know how to use it. I’ve tried various hand-propelled mowers and they’re all rubbish. Flymo gets the job done quickly, or ought to. I’ve heard folk spend three hours with them on lawns the size of postage stamps.

Just get the job done briskly, with the minimum aural inconvenience to others. True, I used to cut grass for a living and am right efficient at it. But this news just in: it’s not rocket science.

The strictures on mowers will also apply to electronic or petrol-driven trimmers, strimmers, bishers, bashers and boshers. Some folk seem unable to do anything unless it’s driven by electricity or petrol. I’m sure I saw, though it may have been in a dream, electric nose-pickers in B&Q.

Worse even than horticultural hellishness are DIY drills, piercing the air and driving up the blood pressure of all around. It’s true. Reported this week, a study by German researchers found exposure to racket can cause long-term health implications, not just high blood pressure but potentially also cancer.

No wonder. In many city suburbs and country villages, the racket is relentless. Well, it’ll have to relent.

Under my measure, the racketeers will be allocated what they’ll no doubt consider Happy Hour in which to make a daily din: say 3 to 4pm, extended maybe to 9 to 10am and 4 to 5pm on Saturdays; nothing at all on the Sabbath. Failure to observe this restriction will result in one day of imprisonment for every minute of racket.

Before coming to my second democratic authoritarian measure, on a related horticultural matter I’m also advocating that people with gardens who don’t appreciate them, except as racket-zones, should be moved into flats.

Similarly, many country people should be relocated to urban council housing schemes, where they’ll be happier among their own sort, listening to rap and making a hullabaloo.

My second measure involves the confiscation and destruction of any time piece costing more than £50. I was appalled – becoming my default state – to read about Good Morning Britland presenter Ben Shephard sporting a series of fancy watches, the cheapest costing £3,000 and the dearest over £13,000.

This is disgraceful. On that man’s wrist is a device costing more than three times an unemployed person’s annual benefits. Well, soon, Big Ben will be forced to watch his luxury gewgaws being ground into the dust by properly trained goons in hi-vis jackets.

My third liberal authoritarian measure will outlaw spitting. This splashed onto the news agenda with talk of the resumption of football, where the practice is rife.

Well, soon, any player expectorating can expect to be gobsmacked by a three-match ban. They’ll have to swallow their pride along with whatever other glutinous agglomeration apparently accumulates periodically in their gobs.

I trust such inhumane but necessary measures will enjoy popular backing though I suspect that, as usual, mine will be a voice howling in the wilderness – whereupon someone will open a window and tell me to keep the noise down.

Stay home forever

HATE to say it but those of us who work from home and never get holidays are now able to say to the rest of you: “Suck it up, you suckers. Now you know what it’s like.”

Sadly, however, the holiday market is preparing itself for the return of normality, loosely defined. For many young persons, it’s a trip to Spain’s “party islands” where, under normal, flaky circumstances, much drink would be consumed by holidaymakers wearing shorts and other louche leisure apparel.

Personally, I’d regard such holidays as a punishment, but maybe that’s just me again: I’ve never knowingly got into the party spirit. My idea of hedonism is a family bag of Revels.

The unfortunate risk for revellers is that the firms currently offering bargain hols from 12 June onwards won’t be refunding dosh if the lockdown is still continuing by then.

I’m happy to provide a public service and reiterate the advice of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office: “We advise against all but essential international travel.” That is excellently put, and we must hope the advice remains for ever, with the omission of the words “but essential”.

FIVE THINGS WE LEARNED THIS WEEK

THE skies are getting bluer. Prof William Collins of the University of Reading says the recent reduction in traffic pollution has left skies looking their natural colour: deep, tropical blue. There you are: every cloud has a silver lining.

THIS year sees the 2,500th anniversary of the Battle of Thermopylae, where 300 Spartans held out (for a bit) against 2 million Persians. The event is still studied by military strategists today, with many concluding the 300 should have legged it.

THE citizens of ancient Pompeii were keen recyclers, according to US archaeologists. Rubbish was reused for filling earth floors and other building work. Pity the poor folk never got the chance to put volcanic ash in the right recycling bin.

METEOROLOGISTS have discovered the earliest reliable written record of somebody being killed by a meteorite falling on their heid. Manuscripts in Turkish archives reveal a bloke was killed in Iraq in 1888. What are the chances, eh? One in 250,000 apparently.

A STUDY by American researchers found that over-65s were best prepared for the collapse of civilisation. They were most likely to have stockpiled food, water, a torch, candles, battery-powered radio, and first aid kit. Wot, no jigsaws?

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