Last night was the annual meeting where the new mayor is installed. The concept always reminds me of Dr Who. It’s still the mayor but the face and manner is quite different. Last night we swapped the Hartnellesque Cllr Marshall for the Troughton esque Brian Coleman. Coleman is a great lover of the procedure and pageantry (bling) of the mayoralty which in Barnet stretches all the way back to err 1965, not even as old as Dr who which pre-dates it by two years. The costumes worn for the night could well come from the old days of Dr Who when there wasn’t a budget for decent special effects. Only the Tory Councillors seem to like the rather tired robes they proudly parade in. My Colleague Cllr Wayne Casey always refers to them as the ‘dressing up clothes’ with the fervent desire that a kindly parent was on hand to say “Don’t you think you’re a bit old for these now? Shall we donate them to the charity shop?”

Meanwhile the grown-up issues were outside in the form of a number of largely elderly protesters who desperately wanted to retain there sheltered housing wardens. They were denied access to the ‘public gallery’ as it was full of invited guests.

Having been duly installed as Mayor, Coleman set about the destruction of his opponents in a manner more reminiscent of Davros than the Doctor. First up, where Barnet’s bloggers. We were told that he would not tolerate their attempts to bring down Barnet’s civic dignity (or words to that effect as we can’t listen to his speech as Barnet don’t publish Council meetings on the web). My view is that it is not Barnet’s bloggers that are the danger to local democracy, but rather the clinging to outmoded protocol that prevents valid criticism of both the system and the people running that system.

More attacks were coming in the form of the revised Scrutiny arrangements which contain a clause that severely restricts the items that a Councillor can call in for Scrutiny. Lib Dem group leader Jack Cohen’s attempt to overturn this was voted down by the massed ranks of robed Tories. Maybe those robes contain some form of mind control? Maybe there is a new device cunningly fitted in the almost refurbished Hendon Town Hall? Or maybe not!