I've always been a fan of that lovely word "decency"; the long-established way of how people treat each other. Sadly, there seem to be two tribes evolving in opposite directions here.

A good friend recently moved house and was staggered by what he found at his new abode -- and what he didn't.

I saw it for myself, so it's no exaggeration to say that if it wasn't welded down, it had gone. Curiously, although almost every lightbulb had been taken, one was left in the hallway. Was this a last nod to safety, or perhaps the result of one stray decent gene which had escaped the cull in the former houseowner's personality?

It's hardly just about money is it? When you're selling a house at six figures, the fiver you've saved by rustling the light bulbs would only please you if you were as tight as a camel's bum in a sandstorm.

What was staggering at this house, though, was what had been left. In short, rubbish that any decent person would have shipped to the tip before moving on.

Happily the new resident in question has a mature attitude to life and a fine sense of humour. He was able to giggle at this crass stupidity and speculate on what the rogue might find at his new house. Perhaps not just the light bulbs but the ceilings might have been taken. Is a roof really a permanent fixture?

By chance, the other evening I came across one of those TV facelift programmes while looking for entertainment. The pillock of a presenter was educating us on how this £250,000 house could be tarted up before sale. He recommended spending £20 at the local garden centre to buy some pretty bedding plants to beautify the garden. Then came the killer line.

"And of course," he said "When you move you can simply take them with you".

What!!!!!!!!!!

My Mum wouldn't have believed this. I have childhood memories of moving house, and my Mum left the old place gleaming, scrubbed clean. Nothing special -- it's what decency demanded.

Let's split this country in two. We'll have a decent half, and a great festering sty for the rest. And you know what -- some would prefer the sty.

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I've had a crop of calls from national newshounds in the last few days about the fact that I'm speaking at Tony Blair's 50th Birthday Dinner later in the year. I'm honoured to have been asked, but you probably knew anyway.

It's been on my own website for about six months, it was reported in this paper last Autumn, and, if you received a Christmas card from me, it featured on my annual cartoon.

Because the Prime Minister's birthday is nigh (May 6th) someone was looking for an angle on the dinner, delayed of course because of Iraq. One found it, several read it, and a few more trees were felled for newsprint.

Just thought I'd tell you in case you were wondering why a story which appeared in The Northern Echo before Christmas is just making the nationals.

Published: 17/04/2003