Cuffs.

Someone referred to the other day, thinking I was out of earshot, as a 'disability activist'. Really? I help out where I can, if I can. But I guess that means I am, sorta.

Mind you, that doesn't mean you'll find me chaining myself to the railings of the Town Hall any time soon. For a start, it doesn't have any.

But if it did, the consequences would be most unfortunate. After ten minutes it'd be "Can you please undo these chains and handcuffs, because I really need to use the loo?" Which in this city would mean a half-mile dash through busy traffic to the nearest toilet - they've shut most public toilets down. Besides, I've absolutely no wish to cause my missus endless merriment by being seen to be wearing chains and handcuffs in public.

While I think of toilets, a councillor told me recently, "Yes, we've had to consolidate local services, but that means that we have won the coveted "Toilets of The Year" award because we were able to target resources more effectively ". Yup, the Loo's of the year awards actually exist.

I'd loved to have "targeted" his "resources" for an answer like that, but I need at least one leg to stand on.

Serves me right for asking. I would have preferred a chat with an MP, but for some reason, recently that lot have been remarkably unavailable, and when they have, a bit shifty and distracted. Can't think why.

Perhaps the thought of 'talking shop' puts them off?