WITH the centenary of the First World War only a little over a year away, red tape continues to prevent the war graves in Radnor Street Cemetery from being spruced up.

For “red tape”, of course, one should read: “Fear by the authorities of facing costly legal action if somebody hurts themselves.”

It’s an especial shame in the case of Radnor Street because there’s a ready and willing pool of volunteers whose only motive is to do their bit.

What we need for this project and countless others is an elite group called The Volunteers Who Won’t Sue. Perhaps the Radnor Street people could form the nucleus of it. Drawn from all age groups and sectors of society, they’d be united by only two characteristics: public spiritedness and not being greedy slimebags.

I’d certainly sign up for such a group, and I’d also go the extra mile by handling the recruitment process.

I’d start by showing potential applicants a photograph of a no-win-no-fee lawyer. That’s assuming, of course, that these creatures can be photographed. If it turns out that they’re like vampires and don’t show up in pictures, I’d capture one by baiting a small steel cage with some shiny things, some blood and a tape recording of an ambulance siren.

If the applicant to join The Volunteers Who Won’t Sue responded to the sight of the lawyer with a strangled gasp of revulsion, or else reached for a crucifix, they’d be in. If, on the other hand, they inquired about compensation for a recently stubbed toe, they’d be out.

Should I end up having to use a live no-win-no-fee lawyer, I suppose I’d have to find some way of dealing with it afterwards. One answer is covering them with salt, although this apparently causes them immense agony.

Salt it is then. Next in the selection process for volunteers would be a stupidity test based on some of the ads put out by compensation companies, the ones that jostle for position with online bingo commercials during the weekday morning TV schedules. They tend to feature a thick person who ends up holding a fat cheque after attempting to hammer a nail with their head or clean a window with a live weasel dipped in sulphuric acid.

My test would consist of illustrated multiple choice questions such as: “When operating a lathe, a big cement mixer or some other item with large metal spinning things on it, one should wear (a) some overalls or (b) a really long tie or scarf with a pretty slipknot, and some extremely dangly earrings?”

Another question would be: “When clearing a blockage in a mechanical wood-chipper, it’s a good idea to (a) switch it off and unplug it from the generator or (b) have a friend rev it up while you stick both arms elbows deep in the mechanism?”

Finally there’d be a test of spatial awareness and basic knowledge of tools. Candidates would be invited to walk a dozen paces in a straight line without falling over and injuring themselves.

Then they’d be invited to walk past a big hole surrounded by signs saying “BIG HOLE” and not fall in.

Those who passed these tests would be invited to hold a hammer to see whether they tried to hit themselves on the head with it, and then a screwdriver to see whether they tried to ram it eight inches into their earhole and give it a good old twiddle.

Those who passed the tests would be invited to join The Volunteers Who Won’t Sue, and the knackered corners of Swindon would soon be restored to their former glories.