Andy Richardson: Just where is Boris as normal folk help our flood victims?

Misery lines were etched across his face as he considered the water that had breached his defences. His Chinese takeaway, built up over many years, was drenched. Rather than dicing water chestnuts, he was slopping muddy brown water back into the street.

A few doors down, the barber’s chair where I’d sat two days earlier was under water. It was no longer open for a two-back-and-sides.

Forty-eight hours earlier, men in high-vis jackets had provided ample warning of the rising tide, and though the shop’s owner had hoped they’d be wrong, their forecasts had been correct. Welcome to the flood. Normal business will be resumed….. at some point.

Earlier in the day, the busy road where people usually walk into and out of town had welcomed a ferry service from benevolent types in canoes. They’d been shipping people across a pelican crossing – the only surprise being that they weren’t joined by actual pelicans.

When we looked at our local newspaper – yup, this one – or the BBC website, all we could see were pictures from the end of our street. The town in which we live had fallen victim to the floods. Again.

Flooding is a choice. It’s one that Government’s make, based on their priorities. It’s called policy. They can put an end to flooding or they can let it continue. The Government decides whether or not to invest in defences. It’s a matter of pounds, shillings and pence.

The landlocked Midlands and beautiful surrounding Shires ought not to be cast adrift in the manner of Fairbourne, a picturesque village on the coast of Barmouth Bay.

There, amid the tranquillity, people face an uncertain future. The authorities have decided not to further invest in flood defences and the village will eventually be washed away.

Though it is idyllically located, not far from Snowdon and directly on the coast, rising sea levels caused by global water are slowly going to obliterate the homes of its 850 residents. Planners have decided it cannot be defended by the predicted two metre rise in sea levels during the next century. Bye bye Fairbourne. Wish you weren’t here.

Across our region, flood defences have provided adequate support during the past decade or so. But they are no match for global warming and record river levels.

The defences must be built ever-higher or else friends, neighbours and businesses must become accustomed to slopping out. So while BoJo and SuperFlyDom are busy decimating the civil service in Whitehall, residents whose basements, kitchens and living rooms are today rank with the stench of dirty water, wonder why they don’t care.

Tourist attractions like Ironbridge find themselves in the headlines for all of the wrong reasons, as locals watch fish and swans glide past in their gardens, instead of cats and dogs.

Curiously, the floods have been a time in which faith in human nature is restored. Strangers have provided support to those worst affected.

They have donned wellies and waders, offered logistical support, cake and words of encouragement and kindness.

Where the Government has failed, the proles have stepped in. People have provided temporary accommodation for those forced from their homes, they’ve helped to raise furniture onto house bricks, they’ve turned up with buckets and brooms to flush away water.

We haven’t seen much of Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson – he’s too busy being World King.

Those hit by flooding aren’t the only ones with their backs to the wheel.

Our brilliant Chinese communities are watching their businesses disappear down the tubes as people wrongly imagine they’ll catch coronavirus if they order a chow mein.

The food critic Jay Rayner has been among the most outspoken on the subject, urging people to eat out in an act of solidarity with Britain’s Chinese community, following misplaced racist fears over coronavirus.

He is right. Chinese restaurants that once were full have been deserted. People who formerly went out their business peaceably have been subjected to racist taunts.

The bigots and xenophobes have a new stick with which to beat those who contribute so much to our economy, and the diversity of our nation.

Rayner’s advice was simple: ‘Go and buy a Chinese’. And there’s rarely been a better way to show support to friends than by enjoying a feast.

So, as soon as the road becomes passable at the bottom of our street, I’ll be revisiting the man who has worked so hard to protect his business and livelihood from a problem that the Government won’t fix.

Chicken Satay, egg fried rice and a packet of prawn crackers, please, mister. And keep the change.