I have been wondering if it is time for Hooting Yard to obtain a kitemark.  Readers from overseas will wonder what on earth I am babbling about, so let me explain. Every single person in this country, man, woman and child, upon seeing a little picture of a kite, knows viscerally that whatever it is that the picture of a kite is attached to is an absolutely fantastic thing, and they can confidently begin to drool with glee. Why this should be so is not quite clear, but is probably bound up with age-old traditions of bureaucratic twaddle.

It has its critics, of course, those in the reality-based community who suggest there is something inane in the equation picture of a kite = gleeful drooling. But we can only go on the evidence before us. I tested the Pavlovian responses of passers-by in a bustling hamlet yesterday. First, I offered people a string bag packed with oozing squelchy muck. There were no takers, and indeed on more than one occasion I was clouted around the head or threatened by the attentions of community hub vigilance officers. But then I made the same offer having stuck a picture of a kite to the bag with Blu-Tac. The transformation was astonishing. People began to openly drool in the streets, their glee uncontained, and several grabbed at the bag full of muck until I had inadvertently created a melée. In the end I had to hide behind a piece of civic statuary, but my point was proved.