This magazine salutes Robert Fidler, the Surrey farmer who built a family castle in secret and is now fighting a court order that it should be demolished. Mr Fidler had hoped, ingeniously, to foil local authorities by concealing his building behind a 40-foot enclosure of hay bales. He believed that, thanks to a legal loophole, if a house attracted no planning objection for four years after completion, it acquired immunity from demolition.
Reigate and Banstead Borough Council thought otherwise, though, and a judge ruled that the removal of the bales in 2006 constituted part of the building work, so the council was right to demand its destruction. Undeterred, Mr Fidler says he will appeal his case, if necessary, in the European Court of Human Rights.
Legally, this is a tricky business, and however tempting it may be to side against the meddling bureaucrats in favour of Mr Fidler, it should be acknowledged that the authorities have a point. Clearly, we do not want heaps of straw-disguised constructions popping up all over the place. Moreover, for all its inventiveness, Mr Fidler’s self-assembled pile — with its mock-tudor front, crenellated rear and fat side-turrets — is a long way from being an architectural gem.
But it’s difficult to condemn Mr Fidler, especially at a time when, across the country, our green and pleasant land is being spoilt by so many ugly and ill-considered planning schemes. No doubt Mr Filder is something of a chancer, yet in his astounding resourcefulness and refusal to bend to officialdom, he has exhibited the best of what it is to be British — the damn-your-eyes defiance which built this nation.

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