GP Taylor: My dreams? Common sense and comedy without offence

I knew I was not awake, but clearly saw the doors of my fitted wardrobe thrown open to reveal the blank screen of the TV that nestled in the shadows. A long finger slipped from the sleeve of the dark spectre’s coat and pressed the button and the picture sprang to life.

There, was the future year. The fireworks crackling over the clock tower of Westminster, the chimes of the great bell ringing out the dying seconds of 2011.

Like Mother Shipton, I watched as the visions changed as I was shown the year to come month by month. January ended in great storms, the sea broke the defences along the coast, ship were torn from their moorings and pushed inland. February brought many days of fog. In the London mist, politicians schemed and like those who plotted against Caesar had done away with Ed Miliband well before the Ides of March. With a flicker of light the scene transformed. I knew it to be March and could see the Falklands surrounded by steel ships of a foreign power.

Our friends around the world did not stand by us. An American voice came from the screen and said that even our special relationship could not help us defend the islands. Like sand through thick fingers, they slipped from us. In April, the nation mourned. Flags dangled from white washed poles like wilted flowers in the fresh sunlight. Sombre music played as gun carriages carried a banner-draped casket along the Mall.

The summer brought hope with news of a Royal birth to come – a baby for Christmas – a girl. Shots were fired at the Olympic Games and the long days of July saw the feeling of outrage against the EU grow and grow.

I watched as the euro weakened and country after country tried to free itself from financial integration. All that was left was France and Germany rattling bladeless sabres and heaping the blame on perfidious Albion. Deep divisions harassed the coalition. A Minister was sent to jail and scandal after scandal walked the corridors of Whitehall. The Prime Minister even made a special plea for the people’s confidence in elected politicians and promised no more cover-ups. Snow fell in September and a plague killed sheep on a Welsh hillside.

A dream? Perhaps… but, none of us know what is to come in the year. Like so many people, I have hopes for the future and yet those hopes are out of my control. I become a spectator. I pray that those in power will do what is right for the greater good.

In my heart of hearts, I would like to see an end to Britain being in the EU. Perhaps that part of my dream was wishful thinking, but I long for the day when Britain can stand alone, being in Europe but not controlled by it. Our self-determination could then put an end to the stupid rules and regulations forced upon us. We could choose with whom to trade and I am sure business would flourish.

It is in that vain that I desire a return to a strong moral compass to guide our lives. Not one that limits the freedom of expression and speech, but positive leadership that confronts social evils and corruption in public life.

I have to ask what is wrong with pubs being made to shut at 11pm? Prior to the law being changed, the good old local was alive and well. Now, you are hard pressed to find a pub that isn’t boarded up.

I also pray that someone invents a virus to kill off speed cameras. These carbuncles of roadside furniture do nothing more than cause accidents in an attempt to raise money for the witless bureaucrats who put them there. “Safer speed partnerships” should also be renamed Dick Turpin & Co – Highway Robbers or perhaps just, Dicks…

It is with the same sense of outrage that I look upon the myth of global warming. This moneymaking business is firmly out of control. For the last 20 years or more, faceless academics have feathered their nests with scare stories that the world will end and it will snow in August. They insist our beautiful county should be littered with offensive wind turbines that stop when it is windy.

But, guess what? Climate change isn’t man-made – it is part of the natural cycle of the world’s weather – just look at the rocks beneath our feet – they tell us of significant periods of climate change long before man was even thought of. But then, scientists will blame that on flatulent dinosaurs.

More than anything, I hope that 2012 will be the year of common sense, a time when political correctness will be a thing of the past, where comedians can tell jokes without someone being offended. As a fat ginger-haired priest of Irish ancestry, please make as much fun of me as you like, I will not take offence, nor will I try to sue you should I trip over your doorstep by accident.

Finally I hope you all get as much out of the next year as you put in, that the sun is on your face and the wind at your back and the road you walk winds through gentle meadows and always brings you back to Yorkshire.