The law catches up with a stalker

THIS WEEK’S victim of the dreaded Bin Police is retired milkman Barry Freezer of Norwich (and there’s trend there) who dared to commit the capital crime of putting cabbage stalks in his garden waste bin.

I’ll say that again, shall I? He put cabbage stalks in his garden waste bin.

The 73-year-old (and why is it always our older people –war veterans and the like – who seem to be victimised by the town hall numpties?) apparently transgressed a rule which states that food which may have come into contact with meat can’t be mixed with composting waste to prevent outbreaks of diseases such as foot and mouth.

But in Barry’s case, the cabbage stalks hadn’t even been anywhere near the kitchen. They were dug up from his vegetable garden and went straight into the bin without even a nodding acquaintance with half a pound of mince.

The actions of the binmen are interesting here. Upon discovering the illegal cabbage stalks, they attached an immediate ‘red card’ to Barry’s bin, instead of the usual warning system of two yellows (no, I’m not making this up) and refused point blank to empty his bin. It should be pointed out that Barry already pays £35 a year just to have his green bin emptied although, as he says, he could burn the whole lot on a bonfire while shouting “bugger the environment”, but chooses not to.

The law which Barry apparently fell foul of is the Animal By-Products Order, imposed by the Department of Food and Rural Affairs following, in turn, a European Parliament directive which is part of an overall master plan to make all of us pay for every ounce of rubbish that we produce.

You may have heard Wee Gordie Broon declaring last week that this pay-as-you-throw system wouldn’t be introduced in Britain. Well trust me, he’s either lying or he’s deluded. It’s on its way, folks, and nothing can stop it.

THE MASSED ranks of NuLabour’s Turkey Army (“We’ll invent a job for you if you’ll vote for us”) must be getting nervous. The gravy train is heading for the buffers – appropriately enough via Crewe Junction – and the days of the government sinecure, plus gilt-edged pension, are numbered.

It’s only when you have a hard look at the government’s job creation scheme that you realise what a multi-billion pound disgrace it really is. A report this week from the Taxpayers’ Alliance revealed the astonishing number of unaccountable, unelected quangos still lurking in the shadows – 827 of them spending £101 billion of your money every year. Many of them have confused and wasteful roles with duplication rife.

Take the Carbon Trust (£85m a year) for example. Set up to advise businesses and government bodies on becoming carbon neutral, it does exactly the same job as another quango, Envirowise (£22m a year). And then there’s the Food Standards Agency extolling the benefits of a healthy diet while the Potato Council (£6m a year) launches National Chip Week.

So not only does the left hand not know what the right hand is doing, it doesn’t really care as long as both hands get to dip into the taxpayers’ pockets.

AT LEAST one group of public sector workers is striving to protect and serve the public, with police in Brighton successfully preventing a planned mass custard pie fight on the prom because of … wait for it … health and safety fears.

Police pulled the plug after more than 1,200 people signed up to take part because of fears that they would not have enough manpower to be able to control the event and innocent passers-by could be targeted with the pies.

Society is also safe from flying feathers after a mass pillow fight in Leeds was cancelled, with police again stepping in to stop the gathering, organised on networking site Facebook.

Meanwhile another 73 teenagers were stabbed to death, another 27 ‘celebrities’ were caught snorting cocaine on video and a bloke down the road from me is still getting away with sneaking potato peelings into his discarded grass cuttings.

I’M RELUCTANT to join the chorus of dissenters accusing Cherie Blair of being a traitorous, money-grubbing hypocrite who pleaded privacy during her years in Number 10 only to dish the dirt on everyone and everything once she thought there might be a quick buck in it. Everyone else has had a pop, so what’s left for me?

(Particularly offensive is her overdue admission that little Leo did have his MMR jab – a revelation that could have saved hundreds of small lives – and her bizarre admission that she didn’t take her “contraceptive equipment” to Balmoral. Why do I imagine, with fingers over my eyes, some kind of weird Catholic contraption involving ropes and pullies?)

But I do find it repugnant that so many NuLabour foot soldiers, who have made their not inconsiderable fortunes out of the party, should now go for one last pay day at the expense of the poor saps left behind. Step forward, with a bucket in his hand, John Prescott, or even Tony Blair’s millionaire tennis partner Lord Levy.

Incidentally, Cherie’s book – which is damaging to Wee Gordie - was rushed out five months ahead of schedule. Perhaps the publishers don’t think he’ll still be around by the autumn. I certainly don’t.