THE day will come. We will know it when a squadron of Grant Burton's pigs perform aerobatics against a bold blue moon. That same night the Evening Press will carry two stories: 1) York council announces that tax is to go down and public spending will go up; 2) North Yorkshire police are to abolish their crime crackdown because all the criminals have cracked and been sent down.

At that moment we can declare our corner of the world sorted, and turn the Newby Wiske police HQ into a cannabis caf.

Until then, however, both city and county require leadership. And this week we have seen two very different styles of leader: "Group-hug" Galloway and "Kick-ass" Cannings.

Coun Steve Galloway cannot say he was unprepared for York council's financial embarrassment. This is a long established mainstay of York's social calendar. February is the Viking Festival, September the Food And Drink Festival and the rest of the year is the Cash Crisis Carnival.

Its origins are lost in the time of mists, but the carnival is thought to have evolved from ancient ritual sacrifices offered up to the cruel Saxon queen Thatcher The Unstable.

In accordance with custom, Coun Galloway launched the event on Monday wearing traditional dress - shirt, tie and shrug. He processed in silence to the Guildhall, where he took out the Civic Buck, in order to pass it.

Reading from the scroll used by countless city leaders before him, he solemnly intoned: "Our view is that the Government has grossly underestimated the costs of some services."

This year's Cash Crisis Carnival is shaping up to break all records, with estimates of the deficit varying between £5.6 and £8.4 million, dependent on how much sleep the city treasurer lost the night before.

So how has Coun Galloway reacted to the news? Most originally, he has instigated a major search to flush out any farm animals which may be lurking on council premises. "There will be no sacred cows," he insisted. "We will look in every cupboard."

More alarmingly, he then appealed for my help. He wants me (along with other citizens of York) to suggest how to make several million pounds' worth of cost savings. Although thrilled the council leader is interested in my suggestions, I am also disturbed the situation is quite so desperate. I mean, I am hardly known for my financial acumen. Just ask my bank manager. He'll be out of Bootham Hospital soon.

Don't count on me, Steve. I can't count.

Another new local leader, North Yorkshire's Chief Constable, Della Cannings, has taken a different tack. Faced with rising crime and a lack of public faith in the police she has come out all guns blazing.

Not for Della the inclusive, I-share-your-pain approach. Oh no. It's more, if you mess with me I'll have your testicles for paperweights. And that applies to her officers as much as the criminals.

She told the county's hoodlums yesterday that there will be no place to hide. Not even, we must assume, in the council's cupboards, now vacated by sacred cows.

I don't know about the criminal fraternity, but she has certainly got me worried. I'll be returning those overdue library books sharpish.

These two could make for interesting times ahead. One moment I'll be advising Coun Galloway on his investment portfolio, the next I'll be rotting in Fulford nick for jumping an amber at Monk Bar.

Get those porcine pilots ready, Grant: they could yet be cleared for take-off.

Updated: 10:26 Wednesday, September 17, 2003