Or Jack and the organic Beanstalk, in which the dastardly giant of a landlord evicts Jack before the new renters’ rights act comes in, only to find out he can’t afford the council tax hike on his Omaze castle; or Rapunzel, locked up by her kindly mother to stop her from splashing the cash in Turkish hair salons.
I thought fairytales were old-fashioned except those sung by inebriated singers mumbling about New York. But I was wrong. Good, evil, magic, princesses and wicked stepmums are alive and well in the pages of the Daily Mail. Once upon a time, I was reading the latest grim news when I stumbled upon a heartwarming story about one of our own – a copper-haired Hove lass who got into a bit of property trouble. To the glee of her chief rival for the affections of the Kingdom – the raven-haired accountant living next door to the palace.
Who says fairy dust doesn’t exist? It can transform lilos into magic carpets. Not a second after hinting at an interest in becoming Queen, our princess managed to phone up the Inland Revenue – fairytales are always set in some mythical past – get through in the length of time a kiss takes to change a mayor into a prime minister – princesses have connections – and have her case waved away with a magic wand. I need the contact details of her fairy godmother. What is the moral of the story? Find a job, children, which pays so much you can afford a barrister. You know, surgeon, investment banker or MP. Or something with a lanyard. Or, if a leadership election has been announced, throw your hat into the ring.
Maybe it was something in the water. I thought I’d give my barrister-free oratory skills a go on Southern Water to see if it’s just Hove that’s blessed. It’s been a wet winter – they must have plenty of it sloshing around.
With my mortgage up for renewal, and every sofa checked for copper coins, I thought I’d try to claw back some of my credit. How difficult could it be? If any of you out there are anything like me – I don’t mean Tory, just human (you can be both) – you might be lackadaisical about your bills. My bill says I’m a few hundred pounds in credit. I feel I’m owed a lot of hot baths or a sprinkler system. I could, of course, just ignore Southern Water – as I already do the bond markets – cancel my direct debit and hope no one reports me watering my pots.
I phone them up. A voice immediately apologises for a loss of pressure. Is that why no one is available to answer the phone? Of course, their phone system is designed to stop you getting through quickly. If only their pipes were as well sealed. Instead of pressing a number, usually the fifth one, you have to summarise your problem in a few words. They helpfully give a couple of examples – ‘I’d like to make a payment’. Well, I don’t – quite the reverse. ‘I am moving into a new house’ – if I didn’t have such water bills, maybe I could. Before I’ve formulated a polite version of ‘I want my money back’, I cough and we automatically skip the chitchat and go through to number 1 – would you like to pay your bill? This is not groundhog day, it’s a Saturday – Southern Water doesn’t answer the phones on Saturdays.
Either because King Charles is now the de facto leader of the country, or because Andy Burnham has finally found an MP willing to give up their £98,599 salary – in this job market? – I had thought things in this sceptred isle were finally looking up for us all. I was obviously wrong – again. I mean, the squeaky seat-back tray tables on Southern Rail’s 182 Class 377 1-4 have had a good oiling recently, so I thought the sky’s the limit. Running trains after midnight would be a bit ambitious.
Here’s my simple wish list for whichever would-be monarch wins this latest war of the roses. Though with our fairy dust still stuck in the Gulf of Hormuz, is any of it likely?
A return to yellow streetlights.
A law prohibiting the photography of any politician jogging.
Proper chocolate grated onto your cappuccino – they can do it in Italy.
An Omaze home – I mean a fairy godmother for everyone.
But I did get £21 back, and a third of my direct debit magicked away – on a Tuesday. Thank you Tinkerbell.
Alistair McNair is leader of the Conservatives on Brighton and Hove City Council.
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