(Illustration by Peewee)

Cher Eugene,

I bet there’s one thing you don’t miss about Guernsey at this time of year, Eugene.  The hedge-cutting, eh?

I was doing mine yesterday, me, and I had to admit, I’m not as young as I used to be. Mind you, I still use my dad’s old sickle, mon vieux.

You remember, he used to say it was a female one, because it was good if you treated it right, but at times it could be hard work and you had to be careful because it could be very sharp, eh?

I don’t hold with these big machines that just destroy the hedgerows, Eugene. After all, Guernsey looks good in the spring, with all the wild flowers to the hedges, but they won’t come back next year if they’re cut too too (sic) close, eh?

They need to be cut back to stop the lanes getting overgrown, but they don’t have to be scalped like these youngsters with their bald hairstyles, eh?

It seems to me there’s been more visitors round the lanes this year, Eugene. I suppose it must be the weak pound, or the credit crunch or something like that. It can’t be the massive advertising by the tourist board, eh?

Mind you, the visitors on the east coast last week weren’t too too (sic) pleased, them. The Public Services, they shut down the pumping station to the Red Lion again, so the sewage, it just went straight into Belle Greve.

And there was a strong east wind all week, so the smell along the front, caw, it was bad, eh?

The hotels and cafes along there, they couldn’t do anything about it, them. It was from the east, so they couldn’t even say it was coming from Jersey, eh?

I don’t know why, but the Public Services, they planned it for that week, at the start of June, so they must have known it would give a poor image for the visitors.

There were some saying the States should have sorted out the sewage treatment years ago, but it’s like the incinerator, mon vieux. They’ve been talking about it for ages, no one wants to make a decision, and now they haven’t got any money.

Then again, they could say they’ve got an incinerator already, but it’s inside the tip, eh?

Mind you, the airport firemen, they found a way to make the States take some action, that’s for sure.

I told you they’d been arguing with that remuneration committee for ages? Well, they went out on strike them, right on the bank holiday in the half-term week. Caw, they know how to pick the time, them. Like the Public Services with the pumping station, eh?

The airlines, they had to cancel all their flights, and there were businessmen and tourists unable to get away.

In the end that chief minister, he went and got them to go back to work, him. But he did it by giving them an extra £4,000 each, eh?

The remuneration committee, they were furious, them, and there were other States members who said the chief minister shouldn’t have interfered.

They said it could encourage other workers to strike if they thought they could get £4,000 just like that.

I was wondering, Eugene, perhaps I could tell the constables I’m going on strike over my hedge, and see if I get some money, eh?

Now there’s going to be a big enquiry to find out whether the chief minister’s got the power to override the other committees behind their back.

It turns out the States, they’ve got this group to deal with big emergencies affecting the island, and they decided they couldn’t have the airport closed for days so they let the chief minister go and sort it out.

But they didn’t tell any States members or committees, eh? And after they’d done it, they said it didn’t affect the negotiating committee because one of the Law Officers told them paying an extra £4,000 wasn’t really wages.

Well, I suppose that’s one way of keeping the States’ wage bill down, mon vieux. You just call it something else, eh?

When you think, an enquiry will cost more money on top of the firemen’s money and no one’s said where it’s going to come from yet, but then, that doesn’t normally worry the States, eh?

I don’t know if it’s coincidence, but just lately there’s been all this talk about the machinery of government. There’s some deputies, they’ve written a letter saying they don’t want the ministers to have more power. Caw, they’re a bit late, them, after the firemen, and the fuel tankers, eh?

Mind you, I heard one of the fuel boats, it’s in dock because there’s no one wants to charter it.

I was thinking, if the chief minister can sort things out on his own, perhaps he could put the States committees and deputies in dry dock until he needs them, eh?

When you think, the original idea was to have a slimmed-down States. They could slim it down to just one person, eh?

But you know the States, mon vieux, they just make everything so complicated with all their departments and committees arguing amongst themselves, so no decisions get made. I suppose it’s so no one can get the blame, eh?

But then things end up going round in circles without getting anywhere. Like the sewage in Belle Greve, eh?

I mean, this fuss with the car park to Cobo, it’s been going on for months, eh?

Last week there was even rotting fish put in one of the abandoned vans.

I suppose the hotels on the east coast were pleased, them, because it distracted some of the gulls from Belle Greve, eh?

But no one would do anything about it, mon vieux.

The Health and Safety people, they said they only did safety at work and the Environmental Health said it wasn’t a public health risk.

The police wouldn’t do anything because it was private land and the constables were afraid to do anything in case they got sued. Caw, there weren’t many departments left, mon vieux.

I suppose in the end it could have ended up with Sea Fisheries. At least they could have let some fishermen have it as bait, eh?

But when you think, this streamlined government with its paid States members and all its committees and Law Officers and consultants, couldn’t clear some rubbish from a car park.

In the end it took an old Guern from Cobo to make a decision and he cleared the problem all by himself, eh?

Perhaps that emergency committee should consist of just two people, mon vieux. The chief minister and a Guernseyman with some bloney common sense, eh?

A la perchoine,

Your cousin Emile