If Bristol's 'Greens' Were Any Greener They'd Be Lawn Ornaments.

Maybe they've just sprouted from the ground.

Well, Here I go again…..Bristol! That bastion of progressive thought, where the very air crackles with the tension between utopian ideals and the stark reality of, well, trying to get to the chippy.

Let's dissect this glorious tapestry of chaos, shall we?

The Green Dream vs. The Gritty Reality:

• Liveable Neighbourhoods: A concept so beautifully abstract, it's a shame it collides with the concrete (or, in this case, newly restricted) roads of reality. The idea of "active vigilance" while strolling through a formerly car-clogged street is a stroke of genius. Who needs CCTV when you've got vigilant pedestrians, presumably armed with reusable tote bags and righteous indignation? And of course, the idea that traffic will just magically disappear when winter ends, is just a testament to the power of positive thinking. Isn’t it?

• Bin-Gate: Four-weekly black bin collections? A bold move! Because nothing says "eco-conscious" like mountains of festering refuse attracting every rat within a five-mile radius. It's a bio-diverse paradise in the making! What is there not to like, I ask?

• The Chump Factor: Yes, Bristol cries out for a leader with the charisma of a slightly damp dishcloth and the strategic brilliance of a squirrel trying to bury a nut in a frozen pond. Someone who can promise to "Make Bristol Green Again!" while simultaneously installing gold-plated bike lanes.

• Community Spirit: The sale of the "Dug Out," with its Banksy-esque history, is a masterstroke in community cohesion. Nothing brings people together like the shared experience of watching their local hub vanish. And the idea of all the residents of different backgrounds, now sharing the same problem of not being able to go anywhere, is a lovely idea.

• The Chipper's Lament: The plight of Armin Amadi, the fish and chip purveyor, is a tragedy worthy of Shakespeare. Forced to contemplate the existential dread of a 35% trade drop, he embodies the quiet suffering of the small business owner in the face of bureaucratic zeal. And the idea that hungry customers won’t be able to park up for a bag of chips, is a wonderful idea. Except to him, of course.

• Lollipop Ladies and Men: The near-miss with the lollipop people being for the chop, is a wonderful example of how close to the edge of madness the council is.

The Residents' Revolt:

• The residents of Barton Hill, however, a delightful mix of exasperation and resignation, are the unsung heroes of this satirical saga. Their tales of woe, from traffic-induced delivery nightmares to the fear of "drug dealers and takers" monopolising the new benches, (DON’T mention their flats, by the way) are a testament to the human spirit's ability to find humour in the face of urban planning ‘lack of experience’ gone awry.

• The concerns about women's safety, with fewer cars on the street, is a beautiful twist on the idea that fewer cars equal safer streets. Yes, it’s ‘answers on a postcard’ time to, no one at City Hall you’d ever expect an answer from. Well, not in this century.

• The idea that the council is "getting to Z before they get to D, E and F" is a wonderful way to describe the councils’ priorities. Get the Former Mayor on the phone immediately! No, not that one. I mean someone who knows what they’re talking about, fool!

The Green Defense:

• Councillor Heather Mack's unwavering optimism, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, is a masterclass in political spin. Her belief that "active vigilance" will solve all safety concerns and that traffic will magically dissipate with the arrival of spring is truly inspiring.

• Meanwhile, the funding issue is of course, always the government’s fault.

Well, you have to admit it, Don’t you! Bristol's Green experiment is a delightful spectacle of good intentions colliding with unintended consequences. It's a reminder that even the most well-meaning policies can lead to chaos, confusion, and a desperate craving for a good old-fashioned bag of chips in Barton Hill.

But wait, the impressiveness of the council doesn’t stop there. Oh no! In what can only be described as yet another masterstroke of pure genius, they followed the Barton Hill screw up with another one (oh, how they must have been doling out the Paracetamol and five days of intense counselling on this day in City Hall). With the blueprint of the Barton Hill chippy to progress on, it was now time for even more businesses to be culled, and where better than the ever-busy Park Street. Eureka strikes again!

Picture this: Bartholomew "Barty" Buttercup, a man whose hair resembles a startled dandelion, and whose political platform consists solely of "more nettle tea and less internal combustion," emerges as the Greens answer to urban planning. Barty, fresh from a week-long meditation retreat in a compost heap, unveils his grand vision for Park Street: "Let's make it a bus-only Shangri-La, where the only sounds are the gentle hum of electric buses and the weeping of small business owners!"

"But Barty," cries Penelope Plumtree, owner of "Penelope's Peculiar Pickles," "my customers need to drive here! How will they transport their giant jars of pickled onions?"

Barty, unphased, responds by pulling a kazoo from his hemp-woven satchel and serenading her with a rendition of "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round." Problem solved!

The £15 million scheme, funded by selling off the council's collection of novelty traffic cones, involves:

• The "Bus Gate of Bliss": A giant, wrought-iron gate at the top of Park Street, adorned with solar-powered fairy lights and a sign that reads, "Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter on Four Wheels."

• The "Bus Lane of Benevolence": A single, narrow lane painted in a shade of green so vibrant it causes spontaneous retinal detachment, reserved exclusively for buses and unicycles ridden by particularly zealous, converted Green believers, and ever stoic party members.

• "Pedestrian Paradise": Pavements widened to the point where they encroach on nearby buildings, creating a charming, claustrophobic atmosphere perfect for practicing your social distancing skills.

• "Cycleway of Serenity": Segregated cycle lanes that weave haphazardly through parked cars, flowerbeds, and the occasional unsuspecting pedestrian, creating a thrilling obstacle course for Bristol's cycling enthusiasts and startled tourists.

• "The Clifton Triangle of Transmutation": The roundabout is to be replaced with a giant, rotating, compost bin. Any vehicle that enters will be spun until it is deemed compostable.

The local businesses, naturally, are thrilled. Bartholomew Buttercup, in his infinite wisdom, suggests they simply "pivot to selling bus-themed merchandise." Penelope Plumtree, now sporting a fetching bus-shaped hat made of recycled pickled onion jars, is reportedly considering opening a "Bus Stop Bistro" serving nettle tea and compost cookies.

And so, Park Street transforms into a utopian vision of bus-centric bliss, where the only traffic jams are caused by herds of bewildered tourists trying to navigate the "Cycleway of Serenity." Bristol, once again, proves that when it comes to ludicrous satire, the Green Party is a gift that keeps on giving.

Ps. All references to the term ‘Green’ in the context of this article should be taken to mean its more historical definition - “an unsophisticated, naïve person; a novice at an institution.”

Remember. There is no such thing as bad publicity except your own obituary.