Last updated at 23:03 12 November 2007

There's reported to be much joy in heaven over any sinner who repenteth. So I suppose celebrations should be unconfined at the news that the head of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents has put the boot into the elf'n'safety nazis.

After all, preventing accidents provides the moral justification for these self-righteous lunatics interfering in our lives and banning pretty much every activity known to man.

Tom Mullarkey, chief executive of Rospa, says his worthy cause has been hijacked by 'extremists'.

Consequently, children are being deprived of their childhood because they are prevented from doing anything which carries even a scintilla of risk.

Everything from playing conkers to wearing football boots with studs and swimming with snorkels has been outlawed in the name of keeping our kids safe.

"We do not believe in extremist health and safety ideas which would keep children wrapped in cotton wool," said Mr Mullarkey.

"Our argument is that a skinned knee or twisted ankle in a challenging and exciting play environment is not just acceptable, it is a positive necessity."

Let's overlook the tortuous use of language. In the real world, children play in parks - in officialdom, they utilise "challenging and exciting play environments".

Instead, we should congratulate Mr Mullarkey. Though he is rather late to the party, his intervention is nonetheless welcome.

I could fill this column week in, week out with the latest examples of elf'n'safety madness.

For instance, I've just had an e-mail from a reader who was asked to sign a disclaimer before she could take home for her dog the leftovers from a Sunday lunch at a carvery.

The restaurant was seeking a legal assurance that Rover would chow down on the scraps that very day. Clearly the management - or more likely, their insurers - were concerned that the pooch might catch food poisoning if the meat was held over for a couple of days beyond its roast-by date and a lawsuit for damages may well follow.

All this was explained by the waitress in the name of elf'n'safety, a catch-all cliche which can best be summed up as "What do you want to do? You can't."

Greedy insurance companies who take your money in premiums and then refuse to pay out when you have an accident are partly responsible. So are the spiv lawyers from Blame Direct, who advertise on daytime television with the promise that they can turn your sprained ankle into a new car or a foreign holiday.

You could be entitled to compensay-shun.

But they couldn't do it without the ludicrous laws passed by braindead, puritan politicians and the 'guidelines' drawn up by what Mr Mullarkey identifies as 'small-minded bureaucrats'.

That phrase is tautologous. In the context of bureaucracy, the expression 'small-minded' is superfluous.

When did you ever meet a broadminded bureaucrat? Small-minded is what bureaucrats do. That is how Brown's Britain works - or, rather, doesn't.

They are not known for their sense of proportion. Remember that maniac who wanted to chop down all the palm trees in Torquay in case someone-cut themselves on a fallen frond? 'They're like tigers,' he said. ' Beautiful to look at but you wouldn't want them wandering the streets.'

Nurse! It's difficult not to conclude that the elf'n'safety crowd are, like the polarbear huggers, in the grip of advanced mental illness.

The rules, in common with most other regulations, are not introduced for our benefit, they are manufactured to give the bureaucrats something to do to justify their miserable, worthless existence - to bully us, punish us, show us who's boss.

Very occasionally, someone in authority, like Tom Mullarkey, blows the whistle. But it never makes the slightest bit of difference.

Last year, the head of the Health and Safety Executive himself declared that the whole, er, mullarkey had got completely out of hand.

No one took the slightest bit of notice. The pencilheads simply returned to their rules mine and carried on churning out ever more insane restrictions on our freedom.

Everybody back on the coach. It was probably only a matter of time before they turned their attention to doggy bags.

Barking.