Leverhulme at Chatsworth

Health & safety music hall jokes under review ... "Ginger Rodent" insult from former equality priestess ... Lady Dorothy's mother ... Holed-up in the Hunting Tower at Chatsworth ... London Calling

Of course we knew it would come to this.

At the inquest, being conducted by Dame Heather Hallett into the callous and cowardly 7/7 bombings, a broker called Michael Henning spoke of the refusal of firemen to attend to victims who were writhing in agony.

"Why aren't you down there?" he pleaded with several members of the emergency services. "There are people dying."

According to Mr Henning, no-one looked at him except one young man who said they were worried about a secondary explosion.

But it was clear what all the firemen were thinking. Just three magic words: Health and Safety.

Each had to observe emergency service protocols for entering dangerous situations.

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Lord Young: recommended ways to cool H & S litigationDavid Cameron, who seems to be making a good fist of a difficult job, had already called for a review of the Health and Safety laws. He appointed Lord Young to look at the rules, which his Lordship described as a music hall joke.

There was strong whiff that ambulance chasers were to blame for a lot of the mess.

Lord Young made some sensible recommendations, a few of which were:

• Clarify, through legislation if necessary, that people will not be held liable for any consequences due to well-intentioned voluntary acts on their part;
• Stop insurance companies requiring businesses operating in low hazard environments to employ health and safety consultants to carry out full health and safety risk assessments;
• Require officials who ban events on health and safety grounds to put their reasons in writing.

*   *   *

For some odd reason, the legal profession had urged Lord Young to go easy.

Alex Drake, of Thomson Snell and Passmore begged the Prime Minister using his Eton name. "Please Cameron, don't let the joke turn to tears."

Richard Young from Russell Jones and Walker had similar views.

The deliciously unconscious irony is that Injury Lawyers 4 Yu have been using the corrupt copper from the Bill, DS Don Beech to advertise their wares.

*   *   *

Danny Alexander: Chief Sec to the TreasuryAnother worm turning has been our old friend Harriett Harperson. Her greatest legislative achievement, the Equality (Abolition of Humour- Doubts Removal) Act 2010 is now well and truly running our lives.

But the champion of the rights of minorities got into a bit of strife herself last weekend when she called the Chief Secretary to the Treasury, the Scottish Danny Alexander a "ginger rodent".

She has an out. Technically, redheads are not a minority in Scotland.

*   *   *

Of course, politicians of old were much more robust.

There is a cracking new book out called A Long Lunch by Simon Hoggart, The Guardian's political sketch writer. Under the sub-title of My Stories and I'm Sticking to Them Hoggart writes winningly of politicians, journalists and other characters he has known.

My favourite is about Harold Macmillan who once asked his friend Lord Carrington about Edmund Muskie, Jimmy Carter's Secretary of State.

"You must remember him," said Carrington. "He's the fellow who lost his chance of running for President when he cried in public."

"Why did he do that?" Macmillan asked.

"Because a newspaper in New Hampshire had accused his wife of being an alcoholic."

Macmillan thought about this for a while and said, "What an extraordinary reason for breaking down in tears".

"I don't know," said Carrington. "What would you have done if a newspaper had said that Lady Dorothy was a drunkard?"

"I would have said, 'You should have seen her mother'," said Macmillan.

*   *   *

There is a particular type of Englishman who takes his wife and daughter and her gormless boyfriend to the pub once a week, usually on a Sunday.

He ostentatiously tries several tables before sitting down while the party takes an age to remove their coats and scarves.

Chatsworth: Hunting TowerAfter this ritual, Dad approaches the bar, rubs his hands together with anticipatory glee and says to the young barman who is probably called Dave, "I'll have half a pint of your finest bitter and three very small cokes please landlord. No ice. No lemon."

I thought of this man when I stayed in the Hunting Tower at Chatsworth last weekend.

Chatsworth, the grandiose home of the Dukes of Devonshire, stands majestically in the valley of the River Derwent.

The view from the Hunting Tower at this time of the year is a panorama of trees in gold, bronze, burnt orange and a deep emerald green. Sparkling here and there like small fires are rich red fading maples.

The house with its opulent staircase and breathtaking library is replete with the works of masters old and new: Raphael, Gainsborough, Canova and Lucien Freud.

The 105 acre garden has formal hedges, waterfalls and sweeping lawns and parades statues of Pan and Samson and Saint Bartholomew amid modern sculptures of puzzling shapes.

In the Hunting Tower there is a photograph of Prince William who stayed there in 2005.

Some say Mary, Queen of Scots, can he heard knocking on the door of the upstairs bedroom asking to be let out.

And then there is the visitors' book with an entry from our friend:

"I should mention that the Devonshire Arms is not what it was. When I enquired about crisps to go with my pint, I was offered a choice of Thai Chilli or some kind of Tikka flavour. I enjoy both Thai and Indian food at times but not in a crisp with a pint of Old Peculier."