Chapter 46 In which a Councillor For Unbelievable Cock-Ups is appointed

As the month of February drew to a close and the days began to get longer and lighter the people of Westphalia-on-Sea saw the first signs of spring and allowed a little optimism to enter their lives. Having once been a great summer seaside resort to which the great British unwashed would flock in their thousands, the spring was always the time for blind optimism. Some time in March an amateur meteorologist would usually consult a shrivelled up old bit of seaweed hanging outside his back door and declare a summer of soaring temperatures. This would then be front page news, and hoteliers, publicans, amusement arcade owners and purveyors of tat would rub their hands together at the thought of a bumper summer, even though more often than not people had to get their tans from standing in the English rain.

Unfortunately any optimism that had appeared with the daffodils in the spring of 2008 quickly evaporated, and pretty soon optimism in Westphalia-on-Sea was as rare as rocking horse shit. The reason for this was that a picturesque cliff walk on the seafront had been deemed unsafe, and it was believed there may be a few undesirable drug addicts lurking in the bushes, so Dr Pangloss and his happy band of councillors decided that every piece of vegetation should be unceremoniously ripped from the cliff face until it looked like a patch of Vietnamese jungle after a particularly vicious napalm attack. While this area of outstanding natural beauty was undergoing its health and safety rationalisation the whole road had to be closed, blocking access to the harbour and a large part of the town centre. And when every living thing had been ripped out by the roots it was declared that the road would remain closed for quite a while longer because there were still some safety issues regarding the cliff. Well, as you can imagine, many of the local residents became rather irate at this news, particularly those whose shops had been effectively cordoned off from any passing trade. There were meetings organised and letters written, and it was headline news practically every day in the Westphalia Express. In fact no-one could remember so many column inches being devoted to just one subject since the election of Dr Pangloss and the promise of the best of all possible worlds. Business owners began to say that they would have to close down, and it became obvious that something would have to be done, so Dr Pangloss swung into action and resolved never to have his photo appear in the paper next to one of the stories about the cliff face. His obedient servant, deputy and all round whipping boy Ahmad Hatter would be the cliff 'face', aided and abetted by another councillor, who was given the impressive title of 'Councillor For Unbelievable Cock-Ups'. Between the two of them they would field any difficult questions and generally take the flak, leaving Dr Pangloss holed up in his bunker to devote the machinations of his outsized brain to casinos and balloons. It was a jolly good plan, but like many of Dr Pangloss's good plans, it needed an outside professional to give it a veneer of respectability, so an expert was brought in to tell everyone how the 'napalm approach' to landscape gardening was essential in this case. The reason it was essential, he said, was basically safety. The cliff face had been there for years and years, but there was imminent danger of large boulders coming crashing down on people's heads. Anything other than a scorched earth policy would have been negligent, and this council certainly wasn't negligent. These wise words were repeated by the Councillor FUC-U, and all the residents were mightily relieved that an unimaginable disaster had been averted by the quick thinking and decisive action of Councillor FUC-U. In fact some of the residents were so old they could remember a time when a local beach had suffered a similar fate. Rock falls were predicted, so the only solution was to think of everyone's safety and close the whole beach, ripping up the access path to it in the process. Luckily that beach was now an empty and derelict eyesore which could now be viewed from the perfect safety of the clifftop, and it was very much hoped that a similar solution could be found for the seafront.

One local businessman, a Mr Eddie Cochran, was becoming a particular thorn in Dr Pangloss's side. He was already talking about the 'Summertime Blues' and with his rallying cry of 'C'mon Everybody' he was organising meetings to put pressure on the council to act. He didn't just want half price car parking, he wanted 'Something Else'. (That's enough Eddie Cochran song titles, Ed.) Dr Pangloss was once again exasperated by the general ingratitude of the inhabitants of Westphalia-on-Sea. Here he was, making the seafront safe for everyone to enjoy, reducing street crime and litter into the bargain by closing the area off, and all he read in the newspaper was people whining about 'you've made the whole cliff face unstable', 'my business is going down the toilet', and 'it's all a massive cock-up'. Well, Dr Pangloss had to disagree. He was willing to admit that during his time in office he had had a few cock-ups, but this wasn't one of them - it was all about safety, and if a safe seafront was a closed seafront, then closed it would be. No wealthy casino-goers were going to be crushed to death by falling boulders on his watch - absolutely not!