MP fires a cold hard question

It was, said Niranjayan Joseph Deva - the Conservative member for Brentford and Isleworth - "part of the historic tradition of this House that an MP should be able to speak about an injustice that has befallen one of his constituents".

"On the 15th June1993 at nine o'clock in the morning," continued Mr Deva with admirable attention to detail, "Mr Constantine Kashiris was in the garden of his home in Isleworth, when a block of ice the size of a sack of potatoes fell from an aircraft flying overhead". What then transpired could be attested to by a Dr Zucchini (I think) of 19, Harvard Drive, Isleworth, who - according to Mr Deva - examined Mr Kashiris shortly after the incident. The unfortunate septuagenarian had managed to evade the plummeting ice-cube, but the shock had sent him tumbling into his own back door. When, "on the 30th November 1993", further tests were carried out on Mr Kashiris by a consultant, Mr GET Wren (Dr Zucchini presumably having exhausted his specialist expertise), it was discovered that Kashiris had suffered a "transmissal line running along the upper surface of the gleneal fossa".

Since then, said Mr Deva, the story of Mr Kashiris' life had been a tale of one man's lonely battle for compensation - compensation for "poor nerves, stress and sleepless nights" (presumably worrying about the next sudden fall of ice). The Civil Aviation Authority, however, had been of no assistance. It had identified a number of aircraft in the vicinity of Isleworth at the time, but could not tell which had let loose the offending lump. Had Mr Kashiris been able to scribble down the registration number of the offending aircraft, then he would - they admitted - have had a very good case. Alas! he had failed to do this.

"But," Mr Deva pointed out sagely, "aircraft do not carry registration markings on the underside of their wings. So is Mr Kashiris supposed to carry a pair of binoculars just as he is suffering the shock of a falling block of ice?" The angry MP continued with this devastating question: "How do you," he demanded, "identify a plane when you have just been knocked to the ground by something falling from it?" He looked hard at the minister, the minister looked at the whip, the whip looked at the usher and the usher looked at me. Mr Deva had us, and we knew it.

Thus had Mr Kashiris been "denied justice" by the Civil Aviation Authority which had a responsibility towards those living close to airports and "who are made injurious and suffer amenities because of it". (I agree. An aunt of mine once suffered awful amenities for months because of an airport.)

John Bowis was the luckless transport minister tasked with replying to Mr Deva's indictment. Unable to deny that injustice had been inflicted, he took refuge in a long and diverting analysis of what icefall from aircraft actually was and how often it happened.

Such ice was often the result of "leakage in lavatory installations, known as blue ice", but the danger, "though present, is remote". True, said Bowis: reports of such incidents had risen from 25 in 1995 to 33 in 1996. But this rise could be due to "increased public awareness of the need to report icefalls". (Haven't we all seen the public safety ads on TV, warning us to don protective headgear before entering our gardens?)

All this can be of little comfort to Mr Kashiris, who now knows (as Mr Deva did not put it) that he has been pissed on from a very great height indeed.