As all great revolutions begin, this one started outside a cinema. We gathered at the Phoenix Cinema, our traditional launch pad for an evening of good deeds, exercise, and—on this occasion—mildly reckless drinking proposals. Theo, ever the connoisseur of fermented apples, introduced us to his latest home-brewed cider. He assured us it was excellent. We assured him we’d try it after the run, wisely deciding to get going! And so, with Beattie back-marking, we set off. The run itself was delightful—clear skies, crisp air, and a pleasantly quiet route through the streets and the darkened paths of the park. There is something wonderful about running at night: the world feels different, like you’ve stepped into a parallel universe where you can run freely without small dogs, prams, or people staring at you like you’ve lost your way from an athletics meet. Our mission for the evening took us to Northway Gardens, where we met Brian—local park custodian, environmental defender, and the kind of man who could probably hold his own in a debate with a government minister armed only with a clipboard and a well-reasoned argument.

Brian had originally wanted us to tame a hedge, but unfortunately, nature (and the fading daylight) had other plans. Instead, we helped him shift a selection of heavy objects, including a rather large and cumbersome bin—the symbolic weight of which would soon become apparent.

With a little extra time on our hands, Brian took us on an impromptu walking tour of local bureaucracy gone mad. He pointed out a newly installed gate, which—he informed us—cost an alleged £25,000. We all nodded politely, trying to conceal our mild horror. Then came the benches. threeof them. Plus 8 bins. All paid for by the local biodiversity budget, which, in theory, should be spent on things that actively improve biodiversity, rather than—say—providing additional seating for philosophical musings on where all the biodiversity went. To put things in perspective, the total biodiversity budget for the area was £56,000. This meant that nearly half had been spent on one gate. A gate. If this was a biodiversity initiative, then presumably it was designed to allow only the most well-financed badgers through. Brian, ever the committed investigator, was not impressed. And, to be honest, neither were we.

A Movement is Born!

It was at this point that the seeds of revolution were sown. Inspired by Brian’s passionate objections and the rather eye-watering price tag of municipal gates, we began discussing a Party for Parks—a grassroots movement dedicated to ensuring money meant for green spaces is actually spent on green spaces.

Of course, all good political movements need a defining moment, and ours came in the form of the bin relocation. Nothing signals intent quite like a group of people strategically moving a public bin. It was a bold statement—if slightly lacking in the drama of, say, the Boston Tea Party. But still, small steps.

With the revolution officially underway, we jogged back to the Phoenix, where we finished the evening in true revolutionary style—by toasting our efforts with a small, highly alcoholic sample of Theo’s cider.

As all great revolutions should.