No. 26 A Walk in the Park

It’s a sign that Gary Glitter’s back in the country when it emerges that staff at Telford and Wrekin council in sunny Shropshire have been ordered to stop and question any adult that dares to set foot in Telford Town Park without at least one child to hold their hand.

Now, as you probably know, I’m the sort of chap that believes everything he reads in the newspapers and on the internet (if it’s in print, then it can’t be lies, can it?), so when I catch sight of a story in not only the Metro newspaper (free of charge to anybody brave enough to set foot on a West Midlands Travel bus), but also upon the esteemed BBC News website, well there can’t be any dispute in its validity.

So let us delve a little deeper into this story and extract a few tasty morsals upon which to chew.

This new bit of council horse-sense came to light after a couple of nutters parading as penguins and handing out climate change leaflets were shooed from the park for committing the heinous crime of leaving the house without a child.

Now it was my understanding that your average paedo doesn’t generally wish to draw attention to either their bad self or their daily comings and goings, for fear of society administering the justice that barking mad judges so often fail to do. So dressing up as a giant penguin and hanging around a park might be seen as an unorthodox approach, going so far as to say making oneself a little obvious. But this seems to have escaped the average brain donor that sits in Town Hall and comes up with the increasingly barmy schemes and ideas that they spend the budget and waste taxpayer’s money on, as a means to justify their over-bloated salaries.

But where might this all lead?

Well, if like me you have a brain stuffed full with nonsensical conspiracy theories, fragments of pointless trivia, and the words to ‘Simon Smith and his Amazing Dancing Bear’ sung by Scooter and Fozzy Bear off of the Muppets, then you won’t be surprised by what I’ve come up with. Anybody else will probably give me a puzzled look and tentatively edge their way out of the room, not turning their back on me once.

But with a so called nanny state nurturing us all into an image they find least offensive and most submissive through policy and casual threats, it seems obvious to me that this piece of legislation (not supported by the Home Office, I must add) is the initial rumblings which will eventually lead to a compulsory breeding scheme for everybody of the legal age to bear children. From tiny acorns, and all that.

With the Beijing Olympics still fresh in the mind of anybody who could be arsed to watch them, this council edict could be the seed that sews the next step in our moulding of a nation created in Whitehall’s image. One that is the direct opposite of that enjoyed in the People’s Republic.

Whereas China has a strict policy on population control, in that each family is only allowed to bear one child – leading to all manner of complications if you’re landed with a particularly ugly one – over here, in the nation where it’s always worthwhile getting out of bed in the morning, they could be taking the converse approach in making it compulsory for every household to have at least one of the little darlings amongst their ranks. A population stretched to bursting point would mean an unlimited supply of bodies for the treadmill of commerce, which in turn creates an employer’s market, which in turn means lower wages.

Everyone’s a winner.

Then, presumably, it wouldn’t matter if you were about to record backing vocals on the Gary Glitter/ Jonathan King comeback single; so long as you had a child with you when you went for a stroll in the park you could do whatever you liked. With this particular base covered, it would give police more time to investigate real crimes such as standing still in the same place for too long or gathering in fields and cutting a rug.

Now, as somebody living in an uncomfortably close proximity to said council, I can say that Telford doesn’t really have a lot to offer to the casual explorer, man of letters, or would-be conqueror of Earth’s darkest recesses.

As with the most of the open wounds of drabness festering upon the map of Great Britain, it was a new town built in the 1960s and further developed into the gutter during the heady decade of the 70s. It advertises itself as the ‘Birthplace of Industry’, but I don’t think industry would really see that as something it would want shouting from the rooftops, had it a say. In fact, Telford’s only other claim to fame in recent times was an unfortunate habit of hanging black doormen.

But Telford has finally managed to put itself back on the map. The town that sees all its citizens as potential paedophiles. They must be so proud. Sad indeed.

You have been warned.

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