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Lovely, today, looking out at the cold north wind scouring the trees, the birds stunt-flying, the daffodils nodding their bright defiant heads. The horses are tucked into the hedge and close together, sheltering from the wind; the cattle opposite have taken cover too.

Of course, it would all look much better with a few dozen worker hutches scattered over it, and an acre or two of tarmac, and this is the great idea of the business brains that make up the Confederation of British Industry.

The CBI has told the Government in general, and George Osborne in particular, that building 50,000 homes would revive the moribund economy. (Oh, and tax cuts for businesses and their vital entrepreneur leaders, of course. Interesting, always, how naked self-interest from business owners is taken incredibly seriously by everybody, while any trade union that dares to talk about collective interests is rubbished out of town).

Do we wish to hand over our countryside to the developers in order to help out these poor business leaders?

Well, some of us do: councillors across the country are all too predictably offering themselves for hire to property developers who are hoping to take advantage of relaxed planning laws which come into effect within weeks, a Daily Telegraph investigation revealed.

“Local government politicians are trading on their inside knowledge of the planning system to receive fees of up to £20,000 for advice on how to get developments approved”, the paper reported.

Remarkably – though perhaps not, given the standard of government we now ‘enjoy’ – it is not illegal for councillors to work as paid consultants. Councils are expected to face an increase in applications for building when new planning laws take effect at the end of this month.

Under the changes, local authorities without a plan for development in their area will be expected to approve any application which can be said to be a “sustainable development”, a term that has alarmed conservationists because it is open to wide interpretation. It effectively means that any builder can demolish a few acres of woodland if it promises to stick a couple of starter homes or housing association properties alongside the £450,000 detached executive homes, maybe around the back by the sewage outlet pipe.

It’s absolutely typical of the way we allow ourselves to be governed: no thought for what will happen to these lovely new homes; nor for where the human-type mortgage-payers installed in them will work; no concern for the value, other than financial, of our green and pleasant land; no thought for the derelict wastelands that litter all our towns and cities; no awareness that in Ireland, where government turned to the builders for help, thousands of new homes lie unfinished and empty.

Such short-sightedness. I mean, take a walk around any Cornish town centre at the weekend. Anything going on? No. They make a Liberal Democrat conference look lively. So why not get the developers to pump money into creating homes in our abandoned centres, so people can return there from the Tesco and Morrison stores that defile our out-of-town green fields? No, that would be difficult. That wouldn’t enable quick enough profit. That wouldn’t make rich people quite richer enough.

 Losing streak (1)

God, wasn’t the rugby depressing? I don’t mean Scotland losing – I’ve been used to that for years, even to Wales. I mean the abysmal standard of play, the shockingly poor refereeing, the players whining and backchatting to the referees. Sickening, really, to somebody who grew to love rugby because people played it for the love of it.

That I should live to see the day when scrums would just be used as a means of winning penalties; when players would sooner take the three points offered by a kick than carry on playing; when players would spend more time gesticulating dramatically to referee and linesmen about the alleged foul play of their opponents than actually playing. And that I should live to see a day when referees drunk on the sound of their own whistles have the power to make or break a game on interpretations that can all too often be subjective or wrong. It never was cricket, but now it definitely isn’t, if you see what I mean. Or rugby.

Winning streak

I see last week’s piece on the spirit of 1945, based on Ken Loach’s new documentary, was part of a discussion that’s been all over the media for the last few days. Once again, nice to be surfing the zeitgeist

Losing streak (2)

And finally – have a little sketch that didn’t make it onto last week’s Newsjack. It may as well see the light of day in the hope that somebody gets a  meagre chuckle out of it.

WORRIED MAN: I just don’t know what we’re going to do…

CONCERNED WOMAN: I know, every day it gets worse…

MAN: All the scandals…

WOMAN: The choirboys….

MAN: The mistresses…

WOMAN: Now Cardinal Keith O’Bloody Brien says he’s sorry …

MAN: What does he mean, “sexual conduct not what was expected of a priest, archbishop and cardinal”? Couldn’t he manage it seven days a week and twice on Sundays, then?

WOMAN: I don’t know what we’re going to do…

MAN: Pass me another cockerel, would you?

WOMAN: There’s not even a Pope to complain to.

MAN: Well quite. Goat’s head?

WOMAN: No, plays havoc with my digestion. What can we do then?

MAN: I don’t know. I mean, at least the last Pope was just like one of us, really. You knew where you were with him. Sympathetic ear, understanding attitude…

WOMAN: I know, I know. I always thought he really got all the stuff about nuns and virgins…

MAN: It may be time to face facts, I’m afraid.

WOMAN: Yes, it is the 21^st century after all. Perhaps we should take up that offer…

MAN: Mergers and acquisitions, it’s the modern free market way…

WOMAN: I just can’t help feeling …. He…. will be… well… annoyed… you know, him.

MAN: Oh don’t worry about him, goodness me no. Only the other night we had a chat after a nice summoning and he was asking if we couldn’t do something about all those Catholics he had around the place, lowering the tone…

WOMAN: Right then, we’ll raise the question of a merger between the Roman Catholics and the worshippers of Beelzebub…

MAN: Praise the horned one…

WOMAN: May he be praised…

MAN: And we’ve got the perfect opportunity.

WOMAN: Indeed, the conclave to elect the next Pope. After all, Cardinal, we’ll both be there…