Hell, it was once suggested, is a place where the police are German, the bureaucrats French and the cooks English. Some recent events would seem to indicate that such Gaulish ingenuity has been overtaken across La Manche by British bungleaucrats.
There they are known as the jobsworth, who encourage the over-zealous enforcement of dreaded Elf n Safety regulations, actual or otherwise. In a nation celebrated for its gardeners and gardens, the jobsworth find fertile ground.
Just in case branches fall on peoples heads, Crawley Borough Council has been told to remove all benches on Pound Hill from underneath trees as they pose a health and safety risk to anyone who sits on them.
And woe betide should you have a loved one buried in the churchyard of St. Mary s in the lovely village of Dedham, Essex. Church officials invoked wrath recently when they collected each and every pot plant left on graves by grieving families. The reason? They might injure maintenance workers mowing the grass.
Surely the worse indignity, however, was inflicted on sixteen senior citizens at Bassett Lodge, Southampton. Bungleaucrats from the local Housing Association gave residents 20 days to remove garden ornaments and structures they deemed dangerous for health and safety reasons. Amongst the most ridiculous:
An archway bearing roses must go as the thorns cause cuts and abrasions.
A bird table is restricting access to windows.
Pot plants are an obstruction to ground maintenance teams because they are not insured to remove any items to allow access for works.
Flowerpots on a patio terrace constitute a health and safety risk in case of a fire.
Garden furniture is a trip hazard to other residents.
A garden swing for visiting grandchildren is a potential trip hazard which constitutes a health and safety risk.
A greenhouse, erected two years ago with money from a lottery grant, was demanded removed.
It took three bungleaucrats to pronounce these absurd conditions. And if the residents refuse to remove all these alleged elf n safety hazards? According to
The Sun tabloid, their landlords Western Challenge Housing Association have threatened to rip apart their garden and send them the bill.
Fortunately, come the very worse, the famed English sense of humour rules triumphant. It took a nation of gardeners recognize the parody possibilities E. L. James s bonkbuster S&M novel Fifty Shades of Grey. Last month saw the publication of
Fifty Sheds of Grey (Boxtree; £9.99). Supposedly authored by one Colin Grey, it recounts his amorous encounters at mostly the bottom of the garden. Never to ignore the salacious,
The Sun tabloid notes the pocket-sized book is full of horticultural-themed gags and graphic images of sheds. A brief sampling:
We tried various positions round the back, on the side, up against a wall . . . but in the end we came to the conclusion the bottom of the garden was the only place for a good shed.
Ever since she read THAT book, I've had to buy all kinds of ropes, chains and shackles. She still manages to get into the shed, though.
She knelt before me on the shed floor and tugged gently at first, the harder until finally, it came, I moaned with pleasure. Now for the other boot.
I lay back exhausted, gazing happily out of the shed window. Despite my concerns about my inexperience, my rhubarb was coming up a treat.
I'm a very naughty girl, she said biting her lip. I need to be punished. So I invited my mum to stay for the weekend.
So if the English are no longer the world s worst cooks, who occupies that vaunted position? The French view American cuisine quelle horreur but that leaves them with what? The word's most putrid paparazzo?
