By Tim Murgatroyd

Before the EU referendum, Boris Johnson warned the British people EU directives make it illegal to sell curved bananas. Furthermore that according to Brussels they are forbidden to come in bunches of “more than two or three”.

Is it just me who wonders if Britain is in danger of becoming a banana republic?

Here’s a definition of a banana republic: ‘A small state that is politically unstable as a result of the domination of its economy by a single export (eg bananas).’ That can’t apply to us in York, surely?

Then you start looking around and wondering where all our industry has gone. The sites of world beating manufacturers like Terry’s are converted into luxury flats and the city’s once-renowned carriageworks is a distant fable. Our “single export” in the UK seems to be primarily financial services, including banks in the City of London like HSBC that are warning of possible relocation to straight-banana countries like Germany and France due to Brexit.

Actually, there are many characteristics associated with banana republics. Here are a couple to test out my theory.

First off, an unhealthy alliance between business and government . . .

Now I’d like to think we must be off the hook there. Powerful business interests get no special favours in the UK, surely? Like a massive cut in corporation tax at a time when our social care services are desperate for adequate funding.

Then I can’t help remembering the Private Finance Initiative contracts that mean taxpayers pay and pay for overpriced loans to build hospitals or schools (including some in York). Value for money? It all depends on your personal bank account number.

York Press:

Curve ball: At least we can now sell curved bananas, says Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson

Then there are the privatised rail services connecting York to the rest of the UK and their recent hikes in fares. Or the huge profits paid out by energy utilities to shareholders. Or the fact that successive governments have allowed perfectly legal tax loopholes to flourish for the richest one per cent.

Another characteristic of a banana republic is said to be the kind of government that routinely ignores the wishes of its citizens . . .

Now we must fare better there. After all, our parliament is known as the Mother of Parliaments and we have regular elections in North Yorkshire to appoint our local representatives on the council.

Except then I start to remember a few inconvenient truths . . .

Recently no fewer than 1.8 million citizens took the time to sign a government petition demanding that President Trump NOT be allowed a slap-up royal visit to the UK. People were particularly outraged by the Leader of the Free World’s illegal travel ban aimed at Islamic countries. This petition was ignored by our government in a manner worthy of a tin pot dictator.

As for City of York Council, I sometimes feel sorry for councillors who are given no fundamental choice about slashing council spending. Our democracy seems to allow us to elect people who decide where the cuts take place, not whether they should take place.

Personally, I’d like to see a surge in investment in York on such things as care services for the elderly and disabled, proper mental health services, more parks, council houses, properly funded schools and libraries . . . the list could go on. In short, the kind of high class public services still taken for granted in straight-banana countries like Germany, Holland and Sweden. Until recently, it was that way here, too.

Then I could go on to mention the score of MPs under police investigation for general election spending fraud.

Or the ex-Chancellor of the Exchequer, George Osborne, who will soon be editing the London Evening Standard four days a week in addition to receiving £650k from a financial assets corporation for toiling four days a month. Oh, and squeezing in his duties as a Member of Parliament when he takes a tea break.

So maybe, if you peel away the skin, Britain is becoming more like a banana republic. And everyone knows what happens when you slip on a banana skin . . .