IT appears that the Government's long-term strategy of concreting over the entire British Isles is going according to plan, judging from last week's unveiling of options for new airports across the country.

Many of you will have also viewed, with alarm, one scheme involving a complex that would double the size of Coventry. Thousands of acres of farmland will disappear if this option finds favour.

So depressing, yet paradoxically, utterly laughable. And reading about this latest lunacy, I was forced to stifle a manic chuckle, a throaty cackle born of resignation.

Transport Secretary Alistair Darling - what a stupid name - was reported to have said, apropos the increase in air travel: "Doing nothing is not an option."

Doing nothing is not an option. Heavens above. Only a weasel-word politician or someone who's just finished a management training course spouts this kind of meaningless tosh.

Anyway, taking tea in the garden with Edward, my pet lionhead rabbit, I came to the following conclusion. Politicians are bad for one's health.

The latest assault on this green and pleasant land is, however, only the latest wind-up from the Westminster elite. Try this one for size...

As pension schemes collapse and an imploding stock market threatens thousands with a poverty-stricken retirement, MPs know exactly what to do.

They go and vote themselves a whopping pensions deal, that's what!

As we all know, those who look after our interests in the Mother of Parliaments have only our welfare at heart. That is why the Standing Commitee of Delegated Legislation - no, I hadn't heard of it either - has just voted by 14 to 1 in favour of upping MPs' rate of pension contributions, with the Treasury - that's us - paying 40 per cent of the extra costs for two years.

You've got to hand it to them. Their timing is perfect. As realistic hopes of state support at age 65 fade into the New Labour sunset, firms renege on occupational schemes and private set-ups remain dogged with insecurity, what do the people's champions do?

They pull up the ladder.

Some MPs insist that the career expectations of politicians have dwindled, and if they do return to civilian life, they are often unemployable.

But surely, if this is the case, then why do we employ them in the first place?

For if they are so completely useless, how come they are allowed to make the big decisions - such as the bonkers airports daydream of turning Britain into one gigantic garden patio?

According to reports, there was only one dissenter as the MPs voted themselves a retirement of endless foreign holidays, champagne on tap and limitless lunches at top restaurants.

Steve Webb, the Liberal Democrat spokesman on work and pensions, was alone in his opinion that MPs' pensions were already incredibly generous.

Continuing his blasphemy in front of stone-faced colleagues, he added that there could not be many walks of life where those who admitted they were unemployable gained extra rewards.

So, while the private sector worker must provide for his or her retirement, those who govern us can look forward to being feather-bedded by the taxpayer.

Earlier this month, Alan Pickering, former chairman of the National Association of Pension Funds, called on the Government to repeal the 1995 Pensions Act, replacing it with a lighter regulatory regime to simplify the sets of rules governing pensions.

However, key pensions advisers said that his proposals had come too late to save many company schemes that recent market falls have left dangerously short of capital. Many employers were struggling with escalating pension liabilities.

The nub of this matter is that, as ordinary people attempt to navigate the stormy waters of market forces, a privileged minority are busy making sure they are all right, Jack.

Politicians love to talk about the need for market forces, yet strangely, have no wish for such irritants to impact on their important lives.

While ordinary mortals struggle to stave off the effects of the present global monetary crisis, either by increasing contributions or falling to their knees in supplication, MPs decide the public must increase contributions to their funds - via taxation.

Actually, compared to the collective talents of the House of Commons, Robert Maxwell was just an amateur. Interestingly enough, Alan Pickering said at the time of his report: "If there were to be another Maxwell, he would have an easy route to plunder a pension scheme, in that all he would need to do is hide behind a mountain of red tape and no one would see him coming."

The galling aspect of all this is that while Britain pays £3.5bn into the European Community every year, spent twice that on destroying millions of farm animals during the foot-and-mouth epidemic, recently bombed the hell out of Serbia, and is about to join the Americans in a war against Iraq, we still can't find the dosh to pay Britain's workers a decent pension.

Tony Blair has signed a blank cheque to finance the building of asylum seekers' hostels across the land, while John Prescott dreams of 200,000 extra houses to submerge the county of Kent, made necessary because of the tide of people now wanting to come and live in this country.

Airports suffocating the Midlands in noise, fumes and mortar... thousands more houses choking the countryside, straining the already creaking infrastructure of local authorities and economies.

Limitless money for absolutely anyone... except for, it would seem, the people who have paid their dues and might like something back for a change.

I wouldn't mind so much if someone had told me, at the age of 16, when I first started to put money into the Chancellor's pocket, that the well would run dry long before I could stoop to drink.

Had I known, I might have suggested that as the state could not be relied on in the future, then please may I take my chances outside the system?

I might indeed end up living off the hedgerows in old age, but at least I would have enjoyed all that money I did not subsequently pay into the Exchequer.

A crazy thought, perhaps. But is it more insane than living under a bunch of self-seeking freeloaders dribbling like hogs at a creaking trough while the rest of us scuffle at the base of the muck heap?

Maybe we should all emigrate. After all, there will soon be no shortage of airstrips from which to take off. Then, strapped into our seat in the plane, we could look down at the ground as Britain disappeared on the horizon, and try to remember better times.

And perhaps, eventually, the only people left will be Members of Parliament. There won't be any countryside left, but at least they will be able to enjoy a nest egg laid by the electoral golden goose.

No wonder the people are deserting their rulers in droves. The only mystery, of course, is that the politicians themselves haven't a clue why.

What do you think, Edward?