Thursday 5 August 2010

ABOUT 400 ...

That's how many letters of objection to the proposed Lenchwick Windfarm were handed in to Wychavon District Council's head of planning. "About 400".

Two or three weeks ago the battier members of the discredited protest group VVASP were gabbling on about getting between 1,000 and 2,000 letters. These were to be delivered personally by VVASP's misleader-in-chief.

But in an interesting, if desperate, PR manoeuvre, the letters were all delivered by women. And all women from Sheriffs Lench. None from the other villages. And no sign of Dr Stroud.

Perhaps, after Stroud libelled Wychavon's planning officer publicly, it was deemed best that he be kept out of the limelight for once.

Or perhaps Dr Stroud felt that the total of "about 400" letters simply wasn't enough for him to be seen handing in.

After all, he'd done all he could, trying on his different hats to object on behalf of various different parties. But even with objections received from people who've never been anywhere near the Lenches, but are members of the same shameful anti-progress movements around the country which are trying to bail each other out at the moment - basically, a "quid pro quo" that nimby groups indulge in for the good of nobody whatsoever ... even with those secondhand objections, the grand total of anti-letters was pretty pathetic. So maybe King Nimby decided to let the women hand over the sorry bundle instead.

More likely, though, his "faux pas" of telling other nimby groups that the Wychavon planners are "biased" shot down any hopes he had for his very own publicity shoot.

So, enter the VVASPish ladies of Sheriffs Lench, led by a female whose utterances so far on the subject have wavered between the bizarre and the incoherent.

Ah well, at least the planning officers are in for a few giggles as they read through the foolish, misinformed and downright deluded objections. Mostly, it would seem, from people who seem to think that horses are easily frightened by the "noise" and "flicker" of wind turbines.

Surely any horse that was as nervous as that really should be put down. Or, better still, let the horses roam happily amongst the turbines, as animals do wherever else these magnificent structures have appeared, and send their rabid owners to the knacker's yard. At least we'd all get a bit of peace and quiet then.

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