Warning to aspiring rural dwellers: beware of those planning laws

One day, Mama Pig called her three piggies together for a little chat. For by now, her children were no longer little and Mama, in her wisdom, had decided that it was high time they went out into the big, bad world and learned how to fend for themselves. Besides, they had her driven mad. "Now, my darlings," she said, "you know your father and I love you all to bits. You were such adorable little pets when you were little, and growing up you were such a delight. But we have had enough of you. Goodbye." Shocked and horrified, the three little piggies squealed and howled in protest, but Mama, her nerves shredded after years of parenthood, would not give in and explained that this move was for her children's own good. What's more, Mama had her eye on a fabulous hot tub that would fit perfectly in their bedroom. So, with tears in her eyes but a hint of enthusiasm in her step, she packed up all their things and sent them on their merry way. However, just before booting them out, she sat them down to warn them about the many dangers they would face. "Yea, yea, yea," said the eldest, "we know all about the big, bad wolf, and how he will huff and puff and blow our house down if we don't build a good, sturdy home. So, no house of straw or sticks for us clever little pigs." "Ah, my innocent little darling," sighed the mother. "Yes, indeed. When your father and I were building our first house, the biggest threat was the big, bad wolf. But times have changed - the biggest threat now is not from some wild animal with sharp teeth that would rip you to pieces and swallow you in one mouthful. Worse, much worse are those dreaded letters that come from the planning department - they make the big, bad wolf look like the tooth fairy." The second little piggy rolled his eyes, mumbled something about his mother being so out of touch that it was embarrassing and declared: 'Mother, for God's sake…..you haven't a clue. Don't you know that all the builders are unemployed and have no option but to claim jobseeker's allowance? The government would be only too delighted to see new houses being built. Okay, we are not talking about getting things back to the way they were at the height of the boom, but to build even a few houses would generate some work. Just chill, Mom, planning permission won't be a problem. Now, can we have some money?" Alas, the three little piggies headed off and set about looking at sites, filling out planning application forms and getting quotes from builders who were absolutely delighted to finally be getting some work. One of them even put his eye on a little honey, and he began to think that this moving away from home thing might not be so bad after all. Finally, they settled on a site, had the builders ready to go - all they were waiting for the go-ahead from the planning department. Then, the unthinkable happened; a letter arrived informing them that because Jupiter was not aligned with Venus, and because the ash tree leafed before the beech that spring and because the neighbour's hens laid three eggs instead of the usual four, that, unfortunately, they were not going to get planning permission. But thank you very much for your application, all the same. This racket went on and on, with the three little pigs becoming ever more relentless in their quest to build a home, but there was no shortage of bad news on the planning front. By now, the government had totally run out of money and was forced to borrow from Europe to pay all the unemployed builders. Surely, common sense would prevail and building projects, no matter how small, would actually be encouraged. But it was not to be. Eventually, after what seemed like a lifetime, it looked like the planets were aligned properly, the ash tree leafed out…etcetera, etcetera, and the little piggies were going to get the go-ahead to build their house of bricks. Then…disaster. The most vile, the most evil, the most hated creature of all reared its ugly head - the objector. And the three little piggies were back to square one. Worse than that, the objector had done such a thorough job it now appeared that they would never get to build their house on their chosen site. So, in pure desperation, Mama and Papa Pig offered their children a site next to their own home confident that nobody could possibly have a problem with this. And although most of the unemployed builders had left the country, there were still a few left - practically destitute, but still yearning for work. Of course, this plan was not without its own set of hitches - problems with 'local needs' apparently. There was no alternative; the three little piggies would just have to move back in with their parents. Mama Pig spent her time dreaming about the good old days when the big, bad wolf used to visit. And she never did get that hot tub....