By Isle of Wight Observer
I must apologise for last week. I’m sorry, I won’t bore you about my holidays again.
On my return, I felt obliged to attend the council’s leadership meeting on your behalf. I get grumpy when the Council Tax bill arrives, and seeing the councillors responsible up close doesn’t reassure me at all!
You may recall that day torrential rain battered the Island. Still, I drove into Newport and emptied my entire family’s loose change into a parking meter. I was drenched as I got to County Hall. Despite the biblical flooding, the door was firmly locked.
Presently, a chap in shorts appeared and eyeing me suspiciously, asked why I was there. After a wait and an exchange of slightly furtive two-way radio exchanges, he herded me and a few other hardy souls upstairs. The chamber was full of men in grey suits with the women providing a splash of colour, and those sweeties of course.
The papers for the meeting were as thick as an 80s telephone directory – or maybe some of the members. I flicked through and nothing made sense, much of it appeared to be the ramblings of mad men (or women). I may not be as sharp as I was, but all I saw was page after page of gobbledegook. It must have taken thousands of ‘person hours’ to write the unfathomable thing and printing the weighty tome surely decimated forests. If Parkhurst and Brighstone disappear, you’ll know why.
Confused, I managed a few pages, where mention of a DfE bid for “a further £2.5 million via the Arts Council” caught my eye. It described the Island’s “music ecosystem” and “supporting ‘transformation’”. I think it meant the “IOW Music Hub” wanted more money. I hadn’t heard of the IOW Music Hub, but I now know it boasts of having “referral systems with the IOW YOT, NEET YP and working closely with all the SEND settings”. What does all that mean in English? It claims to “use music as an intervention to support wellbeing and social and emotional outcomes.” Honestly, nobody in the private sector would write such garbage.
In any case, doesn’t our council have enough trouble teaching Island kids the absolute basics; how to read, write and do sums?
We’re stuck at the bottom of national league tables and Hampshire’s education officers have given up on us. Surely this is a distraction from getting those core subjects under control.
When the knife-edge leadership drama resolved itself, I’d had enough excitement and decided to leave before I lost the will to live.
I quickly discovered I was trapped, the man in shorts had vanished into thin air, just like Councillor Ellis’s leadership hopes!
Honestly, I tried every door, but they were locked, there was no escape.
Previously, I’ve mentioned visiting Broadmoor Hospital, where Britain’s most dangerous lunatics are locked up. On arrival, your fingerprints are taken to prevent a patient from swapping places with you to escape. Next, you pass through a whole series of locked doors as you slowly inch closer to your destination.
When I finally escaped County Hall, it occurred to me that the experience had felt remarkably similar to visiting Broadmoor. In both places, you’re escorted everywhere and your every movement is tracked by CCTV and card readers. I understand why Broadmoor needs to prevent unauthorised comings and goings, but is it really necessary at County Hall? Is that level of security needed to save them from us – or us from them?
Given a choice of places to be held indefinitely, I think Broadmoor would be preferable. Many inmates seem less devious, more trustworthy, and just nicer to be with. They enjoy sweets, cake, friendly chat, swimming, pottery and art classes. Wouldn’t you prefer that to being an IW Councillor?