Worrying the trouser leg of the gossip postman
Foul play
Word reaches me of a certain northern council running a campaign against what is delicately termed "dog litter". The council decided naming and shaming was the way, and planned to publish pictures of the offending dogs and their owners. But a legal wrangle ensued over whether public identification was allowed.

Wags tell me that blanking out the mutts' faces solved the problem.

Now that's media management
Oh, to work in the press office at the London Housing Federation. It seems the the London branch of the Fed really has taken to operating as a meritocracy. So much so, in fact, that it has taken on an idea from its press office on housing key workers and is pursuing it as full-blown policy.

I am frequently chided for not acknowledging the role of press officers and now, it would seem, the evidence is there for all to see. The obvious question is now, when will the policy officers recommence writing press releases?

Cycling proficiency
The ghost of Norman Tebbit really can be expunged, with news of a far better "on yer bike" scheme for refugees. Teesside's refugee service, worried about accidents, has set up a course to teach clients road safety. Not only that, it has persuaded Cleveland police to hand over 30 unclaimed bikes for the project. Now that's what I call get-up-and-go.

What's in a name?
I learn that councillors in Southampton are upset that a developer plans to call a street "Cowpat Gate" to reflect the farming heritage of the site. Whatever next? Regeneration schemes with street names that pay homage the area's former character such as "Low-demand Lane" and "Antisocial Avenue", no doubt.

Nag, nag, nag
I am pleased to report some progress on my hunt for the origins of the urban myth about the 16-hand Yorkshire Grey horse stuck in the 13th-floor flat that had to be removed by airlift. Jim Lunney, chief executive of the "Johnnie" Johnson Housing Trust, writes: "The story has been embossed over time, but sounds very similar to the experience of former Tamar Housing Association chief executive Peter Milligan when he was a housing officer working for Notting Hill Housing Trust.

"Peter recounted the story to me many years ago, but the floor was lower, the make of horse less specific, and no helicopters were involved. I am unaware of his present whereabouts, but hopefully Peter is still a Housing Today reader and will recognise his mythic experience and give a first-hand account."

So Peter – if you are out there, please come forward. The truth must out.

Donkey work

… and the shaggy-horse stories keep galloping in. A housing chief also responsible for environmental health in Bridlington, East Yorkshire, took a call from the neighbour of a tenant who had flitted, saying something was left behind. He went round and discovered a horse in the garden. He was dealing with that when he was called out to the seafront, to dispose of a beached whale. All in a day’s work! But my favourite story, from a housing officer in Leeds, is this one: as a wet-behind-the-ears housing officer he noticed a tenant on his patch had whacked a huge hole out of the brickwork so you could see straight into the bathroom. He asked the tenant if he had done it. Answer: of course. Why? “Well, how else could the donkey get his hay out of the bath?”