星空传媒

Asked why the government spent a cool half million refurbishing ex-Coal Board offices that, judging by the view from the road, now stand derelict, the quango offered this crushing riposte: 鈥淭he offices are used. You just can鈥檛 see that part.鈥�

Memory like a fish
History is, of course, what you make it. So when dear old Gordon Brown鈥檚 latest bit of tail-tweaking 鈥� announcing a single housing inspectorate without telling anybody beforehand 鈥� left some officials a bit flat-footed, they knew how to react.

Brown鈥檚 speech was a re-run of his announcement of the original housing inspectorate, when Audit Commission chiefs were reduced to phoning round saying: 鈥淒oes he mean us?鈥� But as the days passed, those in the thick of things began to say they got the tip-off the week before.

Now, it鈥檚 stretched to a couple of months of informal discussion. That would explain the goldfish expressions on the day, then.

Oooh, behave!
I was invited this week to discuss the merits of a rather carnal act by the regeneration maestro for Southwark council, Chris Horn. Sensing my obvious discomfort, Horn swiftly explained that the SHAG he was talking about was, in fact, the Southwark Housing Association Group.

Dirty mind? Moi? On the contrary, I had merely assumed this was a radical re-imagining of the Housing Corporation鈥檚 鈥減artnering鈥� proposals.

Sell, sell, sell
Council housing may be on its way out in Glasgow but that doesn鈥檛 mean the city is going all up-market. Four of six luxuriously refurbished city-centre flats 鈥� a snip at 拢500,000 each 鈥� remain empty after more than six months on the market.

Apparently the estate agents are exuding a little too much desperation 鈥� so much so that a second team of salespeople have been drafted in to help shift the flats. The sales patter has been toned down and 10% discounts are now on offer instead. 鈥淭he project is ambitious, maybe too ambitious,鈥� said one local academic 鈥� a verdict which may ring a bell with the Glasgow Housing Association.

Talk about a unique brand 鈥�
Word reaches me of an interesting advertising opportunity. Last week an anonymous man was offering, via an internet auction site, to tattoo the brand name of the highest bidder on his, er, wedding tackle.

Perhaps this would be a way to counter feelings of impotence at the Housing Corporation caused by consternation over the single inspector, thought I. But, on dashing to the site in question I found that, sadly, the auction in hand had been pulled.