Day 1:
Dearest Grandmama, we're having a lovely Christmas here at Green Acres, and thank you so much for the wonderful present we opened today, a partridge in a pear tree. I planted the tree and the partridge looks very happy perched in it. I will write more tomorrow.
Day 2:
Dearest Grandmama, after I planted the tree, two animal welfare inspectors came round. They wanted to know if you were licensed to trade in game. And apparently just keeping the partridge in a tree would break all sorts of animal welfare rules, so I had to buy a proper bird house for it. I will write more tomorrow.
Day 3:
Dearest Grandmama, after I erected the bird house for the partridge, three building inspectors came round saying I needed planning permission. They have given me until Twelfth Night to demolish the bird house, or they will come and bulldoze it. Still, I will have the tree, even if I have nowhere to keep the partridge, so thank you again. I will write more tomorrow.
Day 4:
Dearest Grandmama, four Environment Agency officers came round today and said the pear tree was unsafe as it might blow down in a gale. No gales are forecast, but they still say it has to be fenced-off or removed immediately. So we had some builders round to erect a sturdy fence. I will write more tomorrow.
Day 5:
Dearest Grandmama, five traffic wardens arrived today, saying the neighbours had been complaining at the number of vehicles that had been calling. They gave tickets out to everyone parked in the street including several neighbours which only made them angrier. I will write more tomorrow.
Day 6:
Dearest Grandmama, six security contractors arrived today. The traffic wardens had complained of harassment from the neighbours for giving them tickets so the local council were installing CCTV to ensure a safe working environment for the traffic wardens. I will write more tomorrow.
Day 7:
Dearest Grandmama, the floodlights that the CCTV contractors installed really light up the tree and the partridge nicely, but seven of my near neighbours have organised a protest picket outside the house because they cannot sleep at night and the traffic and noise keeps them awake during the day. I will write more tomorrow.
Day 8:
Dearest Grandmama, eight noise abatement officers arrived saying that the noise of my neighbours' protest and the various inspectors' cars coming and going was in clear breach of official guidelines. They served me a compliance notice. I will write more tomorrow.
Day 9:
Dearest Grandmama, the au pair and I made the mistake of bringing out tea and cakes in an attempt to make peace with the neighbours, it is the season of good will, after all. Now nine food safety inspectors are here, saying that out kitchen does not comply with hygiene regulations for the provision of food to the public. I will write more tomorrow.
Day 10:
Dearest Grandmama, ten Home Office people broke down the door today, saying they suspected that the au pair might have been working here illegally. I've spoken to a lawyer and we hope we can get her out of the detention centre soon. We had the workmen come back to repair and repaint the front door. I will write more tomorrow.
Day 11:
Dearest Grandmama, eleven EU inspectors arrived today. We convinced them the au pair was Bulgarian and therefore had a perfect right to be working here, but one of them noticed the name of the house and told us that we had to change it from Green Acres to Green Hectares. They also quizzed us on what colour the front door had been painted. I will write more tomorrow.
Day 12:
Dearest Grandmama, today twelve court officers turned up to serve me with a European Arrest Warrant. We had been reported for painting the front door in a colour called Burgundy Red, Unfortunately this name breaches of EU local origin protection regulations. Anyway, I'm in prison myself now in Burgundy, and will have to sell the house, including the partridge and the pear tree, to pay my legal bills.
Still, it was a very kind gift, and at least it has taught me a lot about regulation these days. Please address any future correspondence to my lawyer.
The Twelve Days of State Bureaucracy