I dreamt I had turned into a giant piggy bank

6:44pm Thursday 29th November 2007

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I HAD a terrifying dream the other night. I had morphed into a giant piggy bank and was trapped in the middle of High Wycombe High Street.

Dozens of gloating councillors were hovering over me, working out how to prise money from my body.

Then one of them managed to pull open the plug where my guts should have been, and the cash came pouring out.

First, it flew into the outstretched arms of the slavering council tax collectors. The coins kept pouring out and still they wanted more.

"We have to fund another 4.5 per cent tax increase," they howled. "We need your money. Pay up."

"But will I get more council services for this?" I oinked as the pennies kept on falling.

"Don't be stupid," they cackled. "We're going to close everything apart from the tax collection unit because the Government has cut our grants."

"But I'm only a poor little piggy," I cried. "How can you take property tax from me?"

"Piggy or not, we're going to huff and puff until we blow your house down," they screamed. "Anyone with a home, even a pig sty, has to pay through the nose, or the snout."

Then they ran off giggling with all my money and I was left groaning and empty, a poor downtrodden boar in Wycombe High Street.

For a brief moment, I thought the bad dream was over, but up marched a parking attendant.

"You've been stationary in the High Street for too long and it's not allowed," he sniffed, as he wrote out a penalty fine. "You should be over there waiting at the bus stop."

"But I live in Flackwell Heath and there are no buses there any more," I retorted.

"Never you mind," he snapped. "Parking in this town has nearly doubled and Wycombe District Council wants you to take the buses, so cars are not allowed here."

"Please someone help me," I pleaded, as my dream disintegrated into a nightmare. But as I turned my piggy body slowly around, I saw there was no one to help. Because everyone else had left town and gone to shop in Reading and Watford.

I woke up sweating but grateful it had all been a horrible dream. However, then I read the local newspaper and realised council tax is indeed probably going up by 4.5 per cent next April, while the county council admits it will have to look at cutting services to avoid an even higher rise.

Then I read on and discovered Wycombe District Council is proposing to hike up car park charges in the town in the near future. Some prices will almost double, causing alarm among traders and motorists.

One of the reasons for the suggested increase is that councillors want more people to use buses to get into the busy town when the Eden centre opens next March.

A fine idea, perhaps. But not when the bus service in this area has so many obvious gaps during off-peak times.

All this leads me to think that motorists and home-owners are about to be bled dry, and get nothing in return for this.

Eden is a tremendous development but these council parking plans are endangering existing traders and less-affluent residents, such as shop workers, who will no longer be able to afford to work in the town.

It gets worse for you if you're a car driver, with petrol galloping over 100p per litre for the first time ever.

And if you're a homeowner, you're also likely to have been whacked in the real estate by rising mortgage interest rates.

I don't know about you lot, but I look at all of this and wonder how I am going to afford to live next year.

Next time the councillors try to use me as their piggy bank they may find I have nothing left to give them. I suspect most of you are in the same boat, and many of you are probably in a much worse situation thanks to constant tax attacks from central and local government.

I have a confession to make, though. I didn't really dream I was a piggy bank, and I don't really live in Flackwell Heath. I fibbed to try to make this piece more interesting.

In the old days, us journalists would have called it poetic licence. But I wouldn't dare label it that now - because if the council thought I had a licence of any sort, then they'd doubtless try to tax it.