Mark Andrews: E-bikes, road tax, and the real scandal of the Mandelson files

Hoary old cliche alert: “New electric pedal bikes roll out across Wolverhampton”.

If only that were the case. If they were being ‘rolled out’, there would be little to complain about, apart perhaps from the self-satisfied expressions among those who think this is a great idea.

Unfortunately, my first encounter with one of these hateful devices, on Wednesday, did not involve any rolling out at all. It did, though, mean stepping out of the path of somebody riding one of these death traps at breakneck speed across the pavement, with little thought for pedestrians.

That’s sustainable transport for you.

Biggest reveal of the Mandelson files? Forget all the tittle-tattle about what Pat McFadden thought about recalcitrant back benchers, the biggest scandal is that Lord Mandelson not only recommended the Prime Minister should meet Sir John Major for some advice, but that he agreed and thought it a jolly good idea.

Is it any wonder the country’s in a state? Not only did Mandelson, the man who gave us the Millennium Dome and the Post Office computer system, appear to hold a Rasputin-like grip on our Prime Minister, it now emerges that the dullard who gave us the Maastricht Treaty and the traffic-cone hotline was also considered some wise old sage.

This news comes hot on the heels of Gordon Brown, the man who crashed the economy, being appointed the PM's ‘special reviewer on global finance and cooperation’.

All we really need now is for Fred the Shred to be brought out of retirement to fix the banking system.

I got my vehicle tax reminder this week, a month after it expired, thanks to our wonderful postal service.

And before anyone tells me I should have remembered, you need the reminder to get the 16-digit reference number if you want to renew by telephone.

Anyhow, better late than never, I telephoned the number on the form, inserted the number as instructed, and was informed the number was incorrect, and asked to ‘please try again’. Unsurprisingly, after two more attempts, the number was still incorrect, so I was treated to a recorded message telling me the staff had all knocked off for the evening, so better call back the next day.

Following morning, after three more attempts, the 16-digit reference number was still incorrect. But because it was daytime, there would be a 10-minute wait to speak to a human being, they’re in short supply apparently. Half an hour later I was eventually told that the reminder, which arrived the day before, had expired. Did I have my log book to hand? Er, no, you asked me to call when I’m at work.

“You might find it easier to do it online,” was the advice I really didn’t want to hear. Followed by a stern warning not to use the car on the public road until it was sorted.

The post arriving late, an infuriating automated service, half an hour on hold, cajoling you to do everything online, and a sharp telling off. Don’t you just love public service in the 21st century?

Best thing about it is, the car is tax exempt anyway, but I still have to go through the same rigmarole every year to apply for a zero-rated imaginary tax disc.

Still, best look on the bright side. At least I don’t have to ride an e-bike.