Council invites developers to form a Cartel......

Elder Gull (Jonathon L) has just found a choice little piece in the sandhills which grace our jewel by the sea, the Burg of Brighton. He ate the piece with great gusto (it was, so he claims, Rigg, but we suspect that to have lasted this long, the fish in question must have been LeatherJacket), and then noticed the paper it was wrapped in.

From the Press of 24 March, one of the Councillors seems to be urging local developers to 'get together and a (sic) do a joint scheme change'. That's right, young gullz. A publicly elected Person is urging private speculators to form 'a collusive association of independent enterprises to monopolise production and distribution of a product or service'.

Back up the truck, Gail! This seems to be - spooky coincidence, n'est ce pas? - the dictionary definition of a Cartel. And Cartels are Bad, right? Not the sort of thing a councillor should be promoting, no? And what about the notion of council leadership. The article Brother Jonathon found was, in fact, headed 'Call for Council Lead'.

This is, by any measure, a remarkable suggestion by the good Councillor. From our own flyovers of the developers properties, which amount to most of the L3 land in Brighton, it is plain to see that not a lot is going on at the moment. Three storeys height restrictions, in most of this zone, mean two storeys of Arse End of a Dune Views, not something the average apartment seeker pays squillions for. That leaves the third storey as the Icing on the Cake - (cake! how long must thin, hungry little gullz wait for Cake?).

But who is going to go first? And why would they tell the other developers just what they plan, when, and using what stratagems and inducements? Who, around the table, is going to tell his fellow Competitors - hey, I'm going to give my first two floors of buyers a free trip to somewhere with an Actual Sea View every winter, and a mortgage holiday for a couple of generations, and a deep discount if they should unaccountably wish to Move Higher in the world?

I ran this past Sister Theresa Gull, who promptly convulsed herself and, shall we say, evacuated, right where she stood. This, by the way, is absolutely against the Gullz Code, which stipulates quite clearly that said evacuations should at a minimum be performed above a real estate agent's car, and for preference that car should be high-end European.

The thought of cut-throat, money motivated developers and Hard Men (and honorary Men) - sitting round a table, talking through their plans, making joint plans for an Approach to the Powers that Be for Mutual Profit and Prompt Realisation - is either extremely unlikely or very very scary. You'd have to ask - why would they do such a thing? Why should a Councillor seriously suggest it? Isn't that a threat? Whoops, a 'threat' is a synonym for 'Cartel', according to dear old Roget.

Maybe it's time for the Council to rejoin the vertebrate world, grow a spine, lead with some Actual Planning to give the Revitalisation thing a kick along, and leave all these silly dreams of happy developers joining hands and singing the planning equivalent of 'Kumbayah', right where they belong - in the imagination of a few fevered individuals.

The Gullz would certainly be happier. Any more laughter at this sort of thing and we are going to lose our reputation as the Scourge of the Mercs.

Dear God, will the Magic never end?

Elder Gull (who, unique among Brighton gulls, can read newspapers as well as pick those choice little still-warm chips out of them) has come across a warning of yet another Arty Farty Festival planned for this quaint little burg by the sea. Yet another market, with stalls, stallholders, trestle tables bearing squidloads of said Art, but few serious buyers.

It's another demonstration, according to the blurb which EG read with many a sigh, of the Art and Craft, Leisure and Recreation focus of New Brighton. As Sister Tui Gull says (in print, on big Wellington billboards) "Yeah, right". This riff is straight out of the Revitalisation plan, and places the cart squarely in front of the horse. Real artists follow patronage, money, and their own insistent inner impulse to create, sometimes simultaneously. They sure as heck don't follow Central Planning Committees.

And to cap it all off, another day with "country, pirate and gospel" music. From some of the usual suspects, of course.

Dear God, will this natural magic never end?

Yes, young gulls, one day it will. When there are a serious number of residents, in close proximity to a natural gathering-place, with serious discretionary cash jingling in their pockets, and with cosmopolitan artistic tastes. We, the red-footed gullz, will know when that day arrives - we'll hear some seriously varied music from (gasp) Outsiders! We'll feast on some actual Discarded Cuisine, not burgers and chips. We'll peer enviously through the windows of a niche bookshop, rather than peek at those stupid kids snorting laughing gas. That's when we will know Revitalisation has occurred.