Last updated 11:37, Thursday, 08 May 2008

It’s not only the surly Little Britain character who grunts at customers and clients the notorious words “computer says no”.

Computer says ‘no’: How many of us have fallen foul of that?

We are at the dawning of a disturbing age of bureaucratic inflexibility, much of it technology driven.

Rules is rules. And once you find yourself swept up by their cloying red tape, processed into the system, woe betide your chance of discovering a bit of plain, old fashioned commonsense.

The local council in Havant last week spent 34p on a stamp to send a ratepayer a demand for one penny – and they offered him the opportunity to pay by instalments.

You can guess that such nonsense was spewed out of a computer. A soulless piece of modern technology that can only trot out the facts, no matter how idiotic.

Wherever you look these days there are instances of people being dragged through the system because no-one has the wit to show a bit of understanding, compassion or basic brainwork.

The secretary of an archbishop in London could be landed with a criminal record because she was 20p short of her bus fare. Legal experts say the case will cost the taxpayer over £5,000.

Anyone with half their wits would know that a middle-aged Christian woman who made a genuine mistake hardly fits the image of your average criminal fare-dodger.

But while real hardened criminals laugh in the face of the courts, Rachel McKenzie faces a fine of up to £1,000 and a threat to her job because she was a few miserable pence short on her Oyster travel card.

School head Bob Yeomans knows what it’s like to accidentally err and find himself wrapped up in the Draconian ramifications of a system that makes George Orwell’s 1984 seem positively altruistic.

Mr Yeomans is a keen angler, but forgot to renew his fishing licence. He paid the fine, but now he’s irrevocably branded a criminal and may be sacked because his name appears on the Criminal Records Bureau files.

One minute he’s praised in an Ofsted inspection. The next he is branded unsuitable to have charge of children because he neglected to renew his fishing licence.

There can be no exceptions to the rule book in our modern, unfriendly, unhelpful society.

No wonder a report out yesterday highlighted just how unfriendly that society has become, with countless people never speaking to their neighbours and going days without human contact in their street and estate.

The intractable, miserable attitude of people in authority is rubbing off on the rest of us.

And whether it be the public or private sector, if the computer says “no” then “no” it must be, without fear or favour, but also without face to face contact and sensible compromise. You see, we just don’t talk to each other any more.

I suppose Sydney Duffy from Culgaith near Penrith will face the full might of the justice system after being clocked doing 35 mph while his wife Rovina, in the passenger seat, was having an epileptic fit.

Now I am all for people adhering to speed limits. But there are times when a warning would be sufficient deterrent. In Mr Duffy’s case, of course, the file has gone in, the paperwork is being completed and Cumbria police can’t discuss it any further because, conveniently, it is now sub judice.

Whether it’s slightly open bin lids, a few rotting veg on a compost heap or 1p council tax bills, I just get angrier by the day over the crass inflexibility that makes life more difficult than it need be.

Ironically, most of the folk who rub against the cold shoulder of bureaucratic authority, are normally the law-abiding ones. They are easy prey for officialdom and anonymous staff who can’t see beyond their computer keyboards.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we got on with our neighbours and the people who are supposed to help us actually did just that.

I’m dreaming, of course. Too many little people with big power makes for a dangerous mix.