In which municipal efficiency meets Victoria sponge and interpretive dance
In a scene that resembled a cross between a Greenpeace demonstration and a village fête organised by people with mild concussion, a group of indignant residents in Binley have heroically wrapped themselves around a collection of trees in order to stop Coventry City Council from doing something perfectly logical and therefore deeply unpopular.
The council, in its infinite wisdom, had decided to fell 26 trees along Clifford Bridge Road to make way for a cycleway nobody asked for but which someone in an office insists will “encourage sustainable travel” — presumably by encouraging cyclists to flee the area entirely.
Unfortunately for the municipal lumberjacks, the locals — led by a woman called Martina who appears to be equal parts Mother Earth and formidable PTA chair — had other ideas. Armed with thermoses, cake, and an unshakable belief in the sanctity of silver birch, the campaigners barricaded themselves around the trunks like environmentally-minded limpets.
Police were summoned at 10:15 GMT to assess the threat level posed by tea-drinking, middle-aged women in knitwear. After careful observation, and perhaps a slice of Victoria sponge, the officers determined that no arrests were necessary, largely because the protest resembled a church coffee morning more than an insurrection.
Martina, speaking to the BBC with the serene confidence of someone who owns several clipboards, explained that their main concern was “the two most threatened trees,” one of which was a 50ft silver birch described as being “a number of years old” — which covers everything from adolescence to ancient druidic deity. “We’re having a little tree party,” she added, as though this clarified anything.
Meanwhile, the council — whose grasp on PR lies somewhere between “unfortunate” and “suicidal” — responded with its usual tact. A spokesperson announced that the legal challenge had failed and that they would now proceed to remove the trees, while promising to replace them with “semi-mature” alternatives, which sounds less like a horticultural strategy and more like a critique of the planning department.
“These new trees will be better suited to the street environment,” said the spokesperson, presumably meaning they’ll be genetically engineered to thrive in concrete, tolerate dog urine, and not attract overly sentimental pensioners.
The residents, however, remain unconvinced. “Our canopy cover is just 11%,” Martina warned, as though she were referring to wartime rations. “The council is determined to wipe out all these oxygen-giving trees.” Whether this is a deliberate policy or just a happy side effect of administrative bungling remains unclear.
For now, the trees remain upright, the cycleway unbuilt, and the protest in full swing, complete with music, dancing, and what one imagines is a strongly worded letter to David Attenborough currently languishing in the BBC’s “nutters” folder.
In short: Coventry has once again proved that nothing brings British people together like trees, tea, and a shared hatred of local government.