Every once in a long while, there appears a brief shard of brilliant light at the end of the dank, bleak, offence-averse tunnel that is the UK. Only about once a month, if that, but boy does it inspire hope when something like this happens.
A town's mayor has brought in 'experts' to root out political correctness in his council, targeting groups aimed at ethnic minorities and women. Doncaster's elected mayor Peter Davies has drafted in Laura and John Midgley, from the Campaign Against Political Correctness, to see what can be ditched.
Among the groups they have already identified as too politically correct are an ethnic minorities welfare rights service and a racial multi-agency partnership. They will also be looking to see if Doncaster Council bans the use of any specific words by staff.
Someone please trot up to Doncaster and give Mayor Davies a medal! Fuck it, give him the keys to number 10 while you're at it.
The weasel whining of righteous fuckbaskets is no doubt soon to follow, of course, but Davies bats their inevitable objections away as one would an irritating, disease-spreading house fly (actually, that's rather a good comparison if one thinks about it).
The mayor rejected any suggestion that the move to bring in the campaigners was 'racist', saying: 'I have brought them in for advice on rooting out political correctness.'
And just to carefully perch a plump, juicy cherry atop this delicious serving of common sense, it doesn't cost the taxpayer so much as a red cent.
Mr and Mrs Midgley are not being paid for their advice.
Not that many would mind if they were, especially if a rush of councils signing up to their services meant they were forced to take on extra advisers to cope with demand.
A vain hope? Hopefully not, it would be nice if this sweet light would keep shining for us. However, experience teaches us that the more likely occurrence is that this initiative will be quietly snuffed out by the righteous and professionally-offended, and our brief sojourn into optimism will soon revert to the usual dismal pummelling by the annihilation of sensible policy-making.
Or, as John Cleese once put it.
I can take the despair. It's the hope I can't stand