Laced with a cheerful mix of envy, spite and ill-grace, the annual political awards ceremony at Channel 4's London HQ is always fun - and last week's was more fun than ever. As my reward for recording some video clips of commentary on the nominees and winners, I got to sit at a proper table with wine and delicious snacks, and was tucking in to both as we reached the award for best political satire. Up came my face on the big screens, praising Armando Iannucci's TV comedy, The Thick of It.

Over on another table were sitting Iannucci himself, plus one of his cast: the actor Peter Capaldi, who plays the Alastair Campbell figure. And at the same table (a mischievous piece of placement by Channel 4) was Campbell himself. On-screen I was saying that to those who know Westminster and the creatures who infest it, this series is painfully close to the mark.

And so it is. I should have added that Capaldi's Campbell is a brilliant study in snarling brutality, general joylessness and Tourette syndrome mouthing-off.

Later it emerged that there's something else I should have added: “and a breathtaking failure of self-awareness”. For, as Capaldi revealed while collecting the award, at that very point in my video clip, Campbell had leaned over the Channel 4 table and snarled “How the f*** would he know?”

I may have found something useful for Gordon Brown's absurd new Risk and Regulation Advisory Council (RRAC) to do.

You may remember that this proposed cartload of regulators is being established to regulate the cartloads of regulators already regulating. The Health and Safety Executive, for instance; or the call-centre jobsworths who won't tell you anything “because of data protection”. Whither, then, the RRAC?

Here's a thought. On arriving at Matlock railway station this weekend I was knocked back yet again by the sheer, monstrous ugliness of the giant, black steel framework of a new superstructure (“bridge” is too soft a word) newly constructed to give passengers access to a Sainsbury's on the other side of the line. It's higher than the roof of the sweetly proportioned little Victorian stone station. It jars. It dwarfs the whole place, wrecking perspective. Ghastly iron ramps zigzag into the sky, with runs of fire-escape-style black iron steps doubled up beside them. The whole mess looks like a stage-set for West Side Story - no introduction to the lovely Peak District to which this station is the gateway.

The committee-wallahs who sanctioned the atrocity say it must be like that to comply with disabled access regulations. Yet anyone wheelchair-bound or pram-encumbered would be daunted by such a climbing frame, preferring the existing pavement that leads to an existing stone road-bridge nearby.

Item 1, then: Matlock station access, blamed on disability regulations.

Item 2: a sign on my bus from East Midlands airport to a long-stay car park - “Due to Health & Safety, the driver is unable to help passengers with luggage”.

Item 3: the receptionist who won't find for me the e-mail address of someone whose lecture I attended, though she knows we're friends “due to data protection”. Are these just excuses? How can citizens find out?

Remember the Cones Hotline? I propose an RRAC Hotline. Half the time, I'll bet officials are just making it up about “health'n'safety”, data protection, etc. But not always. So why not let the citizen ask? We could call a freephone number to find out if H&S does forbid bus drivers from lifting suitcases; whether new public access must always be ramps; whether no employee can ever divulge contact details. If we knew, we could make up our minds about whether the rules are right.

I was teased this week on BBC Radio Wales with an invitation to propose a new design for the flipside of our 50p coins. After more than 300 years of continuous service, the Roman goddess Britannia is to be removed from British coinage. The decision was personally approved by Gordon Brown - in an idle moment, no doubt, while composing yet another of his dreary speeches on Britishness.

I've been giving my task some thought. The design should be in keeping with the nannying, interfering, regulating spirit of the age. So why not adapt a range of prohibition notices, all employing that horrid diagonal line struck across a circle? Struck through within the circle, symbols for cigarettes, crisps, mobile phones, pets or children could illustrate the point. Around the circumference, perhaps in Latin, cheery mottos like Smoking Damages Your Health, Avoid Fatty Foods, or Hate-speech Is Against The Law, would add - in a million small daily transactions - to the gaiety of the nation.

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