Whoever decided that Barrow-in-Furness is the least happy place in Britain obviously hasn’t tried to drive a car through Lancaster recently.
I’m not saying Barrow’s a depressing town* but the following fact tells you all you need to know about it.
A few years ago they had to switch off the giant wind turbine near the big Tesco because on windy days depressed seagulls were hurling themselves onto its whirring blades.
Anyway, back to our fair city.
Instead of blocking off the main road through Lancaster, I don’t know why United Utilities didn’t just build a big Berlin Wall around us and be done with it.
For a company whose main job is to flush away our poo, they’ve managed to bung us up like we’ve been on some mental banana-only diet for a fortnight.
The school run, which has all the charm of a poll tax riot or a 1980s football terrace at the best of times, is now even more mean spirited and bad-tempered.
You needed The Knowledge of a London taxi driver to negotiate Lancaster’s rat runs when you’re dropping your kids off at school of a morning, even before United Utilities turned up.
Now, thanks to them, the victims in The Human Centipede could crawl around our city faster than your average stressed-out mum in her Fiat 500 full of screaming kids.
It’s not like Lancaster wasn’t a giant car park even before United Utilities’ Herculean efforts, what with our international festival of traffic lights largely responsible for the second slowest rush hour traffic in the country, with only Westminster in central London keeping us off the coveted number one spot.
I’d cancel my direct debit til United Utilities pack up and leave if I didn’t think they’d cut off my water supply within seconds.
*Actually I am. I was born there and lived there for 22 years. Barrovians are among the finest people on earth but the place looks like it has been photographed in sepia.