But when Group Captain Ro Atherton picked up her favourite newspaper last week and read that Gordon Brown, no less, had spoken
disapprovingly of her decision to ban RAF Wittering staff from wearing uniforms in Peterborough, it was, as Manchester United manager Sir Alex Ferguson would say, "squeaky bum time.''

The ban was a bad decision. It lacked a sense of perspective. But, ironically, so has the reaction to it. Sadly, this sorry affair has turned the Royal Air Force into the Royal Air Farce.

Her motives were good – to protect the safety of her staff after incident of abuse from members of the public.But servicemen and women are not shrinking violets – if they are, we're all in trouble, not just her. So they should have been able to decide for themselves whether they were concerned enough about the potential abuse not to wear the uniform.

And the lack of concrete evidence – or at least any that was made public – has undermined her decision.There have been conflicting reports, yet we still do not know when and where these alleged incidents took place, how many of them there were and how serious they were.

People from all over the country have written to national newspapers. Some of whom go so far as to say all of us in Peterborough should be ashamed of ourselves. That's a ridiculous over-reaction. Why should we be? Just because of the actions of a handful of morons? I don't think so.

But the fact remains because of the station commander's actions Peterborough's good name has once more been dragged through the mud.
For that reason alone she should apologise to the people of the city, for what was an unfair slight, unintentional though I'm sure it was.

That apology wasn't forthcoming after a meeting with city mayor Marion Todd and Peterborough's police chief Paul Phillipson. And the ban remained in place. Strong leadership or stubbornness? It depends on your point of view.

Anybody with half a brain knows the ban will be quietly lifted a few months from now without any public fanfare.

But what now for the Group Captain? She is a high flier – no pun intended – in fact she is not a qualified pilot. But this sorry incident is unlikely to have boosted her career.

That's a shame – but the further you climb up the greasy pole, the more slippery it gets.

Welcome to Warehouseborough
It's one of the unwritten rules of local newspapers that new jobs equals good news.

Inevitably, there is always an exception to the rule and in this case that is surely the plans to build giant, and I mean giant, warehouses at Stanground.

Forget for a moment the environmental concerns, the potential traffic problems, the jobs themselves are the problem.

Peterborough is already a low-wage economy with a corresponding lack of skill in its workforce.

If the city is to achieve its targeted growth, it needs to attract a wider range of jobs and skills.

This scheme could further unbalance the city's economy and its social make-up

Still, at least it will solve the problem of what the new slogan for our city should be: Welcome To Peterborough – City Of Warehouses.


Steely Luke's a real local hero
There was no doubt who was the sporting hero of the week. That honour goes to former Glinton schoolboy Luke Steele who was in the Barnsley team that put the Chelsea superstars to the sword in the FA Cup.

But he did more than that. As this great picture of him shows, his reaction on the final whistle proved he was one player for whom the magic of the cup is still alive and kicking.

For the past few years, fans have had to put up with a procession of surly managers and dimwit players banging on about how they'd prefer three league points to a trip to Wembley. This attitude is galling for supporters across the land who love the cup but hate the disdain too many of today's professionals show for it.

At least most of them do. Here at Telegraph Towers, we have in our midst a Barnsley fan. On the Monday after the game he told me, straight-faced, he'd prefer Barnsley avoid relegation to League 1 rather than win the FA Cup.

I can only assume in the celebrations that followed the match he had been hit on the head by a large pie, which had been hurled exultantly in the air by a fellow fan.
Either that or he's worried about having to play the mighty Posh.

What about the rest of us?
One of the few things I hate about my job is my e-mail inbox. The reason is I can be having a perfectly pleasant day when an unsolicited e-mail arrives and ruins my mood.

Part of my job description as a columnist with the ET is that my blood should boil several times a day. Sometimes this is easy – usually the day after my team Leeds United have been beaten by Flying Horse FC or whichever pub team it was we were playing this week. Sometimes though, when the sun is shining, even me, a grumpy old man, finds it hard to get worked up about anything.

Fortunately then, there are emails like the one I received from a Norfolk PR agency.

It began: "Over 147,000 individuals in Cambridgeshire, around one in four of the population, have had their lives improved by European funding during the last seven years according to figures recently published by East of England development Agency.''

After reading that, the red stuff coursing through my veins was bubbling and spitting nicely.

It wasn't the turgid prose, it wasn't even the questionable premise that spending money equates to improving lives.

It was the brass neck to brag about the miserable "achievement'' of helping just one in four of us.

By my calculation that means 441,000 of us haven't had our lives "improved''.