Coalition of liars, trimmers and charlatans are destroying Britain’s landscape

James Delingpole hooks into the UK government over the destruction of the landscape…not by mining, not by fracking, but with the expansion of subsidised wind farms.

About this time ten years ago, I enjoyed one of my happiest family holidays ever. It was on Lundy which, as Will Heaven rightly says, is the most beautiful island in Britain. If you’re lucky enough to be staying in one of the Landmark Trust properties on the island you get the place pretty much to yourself once the daytrippers have gone. There are fantastic cliffs for your children to fall off, puffins to look for (though usually not to see: we never did) and seals to go swimming with. It’s like living out an Arthur Ransome/Enid Blyton novel for real.

And now its unspoilt perfection is about to be ruined by a stupendously enormous, outrageously expensive, and totally effing useless offshore wind farm belonging to a big German energy company.

This, like so many of the wind turbines blighting our countryside, will be by far the most distinctive legacy of David Cameron’s Coalition. Long, long after we’ve all forgotten why there was such a fuss about gay marriage, the bedroom tax or the Libyan intervention, those ugly, mostly disused, turbines will still be up there, blighting every view for miles around, a monument to the folly of the policy makers who put them there, the religious zeal of the green loons who pushed for their erection and the despicable greed of the landowners and energy companies who profited by them at the expense of the poor taxpayers and energy users who had to subsidise them to the tune of 100 per cent (for onshore wind) and 200 per cent (for offshore). 

I hate wind turbines, they are visual pollution and bird smashers. I’m not at all like liberal fools like Farrar who thinks they are wonderful.

[I]n June, you’ll recall, Eric Pickles’s Department for Communities and Local Government announced, with much fanfare, that in future green energy targets would not be allowed to override the wishes of local communities to oppose wind farms. The night before it was announced I even got a call from a senior government minister briefing me about it. “I thought you’d want to know that we ARE doing something about it,” he said, proudly.

Was this minister a fool or a liar? And was Eric Pickles sold a pup or is he a liar too? Whatever, we know now for a fact all these new planning guidelines announced by Pickles’s department have made almost no difference whatsoever. Which either means that Pickles, his department, and all those senior Conservatives opposed to wind are quite disgracefully incompetent; or that Cameron has – as is his wont – allowed them to be ridden over, roughshod, by the green ideologues at DECC and by all his rich pals (not to mention his father-in-law Sir Reginald Sheffield Bt; and his deputy prime minister’s wife, Mrs Clegg) with their snouts in the renewable energy trough.

Certainly, that phone call for me was the last time I’ll ever trust anything one of Cameron’s despicable bunch of wriggling, squirmy, morally bankrupt toe rags tells me again. I loathe them with every fibre of my being, for many reasons, but for one above all: thanks to their incompetence, cowardice, cynicism and ignorance they are destroying the greatest of all our magnificent country’s assets – the matchless beauty of its countryside.

Delingpole is one of the best sledges known to man.


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As much at home writing editorials as being the subject of them, Cam has won awards, including the Canon Media Award for his work on the Len Brown/Bevan Chuang story.  And when he’s not creating the news, he tends to be in it, with protagonists using the courts, media and social media to deliver financial as well as death threats.

They say that news is something that someone, somewhere, wants kept quiet.   Cam Slater doesn’t do quiet, and as a result he is a polarising, controversial but highly effective journalist that takes no prisoners.

He is fearless in his pursuit of a story.

Love him or loathe him.  But you can’t ignore him.

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