When, at the height of Margaret Thatcher's assault on our traditional industries - coal, steel, shipbuilding and the rest - her Trade and Industry Secretary advised the afflicted to "get on their bikes"', we might have branded him the Himmler of the Thatcher regime.

When, later, he devised his infamous "cricket test" as a guide to national loyalty, we might have smiled indulgently at so out-of-date a touchstone of contemporary Britain.

But Norman Tebbit won admiration for his courage when the IRA bombed Brighton's Grand Hotel. Few will forget the pictures of him, in pain, being inched out of the wreckage.

The blast put his wife permanently in a wheelchair. And Lord Tebbit, as he now is, has hit the spot with his remarks on Tony Blair's appeasement of the IRA. On Tuesday Mr Blair insisted he would not "give an inch" to terrorism. The next day Sean Kelly, an IRA terrorist who killed nine innocent people by blowing up a fishmonger's, was released from jail. Released once before, he had only recently been returned to jail because he was suspected of still being involved in terrorism.

Tebbit is right to point out that while "terrorists can be let out of jail none the worse for their loss of liberty for a few years, for victims the slate is never wiped clean". And what gives special point to his remarks is that, when analysed closely, the IRA's announced end to its armed campaign does not look very different from the "complete cessation of all hostilities" it promised back in 1994. And, to the extent that it has abandoned its armed struggle, the credit arguably belongs more to al Qaida, which has given terrorism a bad name, than to the concessions by Tony Blair and, before him, John Major.

Much has been made of the "legacy" of former Prime Minister Ted Heath. Missing from all the obits that caught my eye was recognition of him as the man who mucked up Britain's counties.

In 1974, April Fool's Day was the appropriate date on which Ted's local government reforms came in, sweeping away the likes of Westmorland, Cumberland and Rutland, and redrawing the boundaries of most other counties.

In which county is Darlington? If it's Durham, why do the boundary signs exclude it? More perplexing still is the void into which the communities of Cleveland County, Heath's most artificial construct, have fallen since the county was scrapped.

Like the other changes, Cleveland was established on the back of a guarantee that the historic counties would continue to exist. If Heath had ensured this with a nationwide system of heritage signs he would have left a legacy more valued than his much-vaunted role in taking us into the EU.

Suppose the Durham City skyline was dominated by an upturned steel bowl - and nothing else. Then, magically, a great medieval castle and cathedral appear side by side. Staring in wonder, Coun Ken Manton, leader of Durham County Council, declares: "This gives us a world class attraction, which is sure to put County Durham on the international map. It will become a must-see spectacle that will attract visitors, income and prestige.''

Coun Manton already says this. But about the proposed steel bowl. Alas, castle and cathedral, of world-heritage status, just don't do it for Ken.