I would never dare call myself a journalist. I do write ... book reviews for a crime fiction website.

We have our own treasured set of cliches – the characters are often in “a race against time” to do something or other, and I have lost count of how many “agonising choices” have to be made week by week.

The writers with the deepest pockets full of cliches, are, however, the brave souls who write for local newspapers.

Anything involving cars, tractors or cycles is usually “wheely good” and flower festivals are invariably “bloomin’ marvellous”.

Anyone looking to restore rail links will, hopefully, find that their plans are “on track”, unless they have “hit the buffers” or in the “worst case scenario” will have been “derailed”.

Residents are nearly always “concerned”, and they will “call” for action. If they don’t succeed, then they must visit the nearest drainage channel to make a “last ditch” effort.

They may well have to raid the tool shed in order to “hammer out” a solution, but they may well find the powers that be got there first, as something or other will be “axed”. This decision will, of course, be one of the “landmark” variety.

If someone in the community is looking for public money, they will be amazed to find that it is not kept in the bank, but in a mysterious “pot”.

Their attempts to secure this cash will always be in the form of a “bid” which, if things are not going according to plan, will then become “desperate”.

Nothing stimulates the cliché factory like criminal activity. Vandals are always “mindless”, rather than being philosophy graduates, while we are always reminded that thieves are not kind and compassionate, but always “heartless”.

On the rare occasion that a murder happens, we are reminded that it is “brutal”, rather than gentle or considerate.

Any accidental death has to be “tragic” as opposed to hysterically funny.

And as for unfortunate souls who have contracted cancer, well, they are obviously “battling” it, while if they are young folks, then they will always be “plucky”.

So, pitying the poor scribe as he or she sets out to cover the next coffee morning or village fete, I will “bring the curtain down” on this little tale.

Rather them than me.

DAVID PRESTIDGE

Wisbech

Via e-mail