Oh dear. Big Dave can't see who owns the forest. Can't see for all those trees
• Here is a statement. "The idea that all Forestry Commission forests are open to the public and do not charge is simply not true," said the prime minister. "Many forests, such as the New Forest, are not owned by the Forestry Commission and have much better access, no parking charges and very good records on habitat. While we are having this consultation, we should bust some of the myths that have been put around about this idea." And here, by way of contrast, is another statement. "In 1924 the management of the New Forest passed to the Forestry Commission under the Forestry (Transfer of Woods) Act, 1923 and became vested in the Minister of Agriculture rather than the Sovereign." Someone made a fool of themselves in the Commons this week, we think. We think it was Dave.
• And how are we to evaluate the real commitment of Big Dave and his merry troupe to the concept of the "big society"? Well, one way is to see how much they actually put themselves out to do the sorts of things Dave would have everyone else do, in lieu of money and status and that sort of thing. A peek at the register of ministers' interests reveals that the prime minister and his deputy Nick Clegg fight the good fight as patrons of a long list of charities – some by dint of their august positions, others based within their constituencies. Well done them. But the same cannot be said of other big society pathfinders, such as the communities secretary Eric Pickles. He's a trustee of Brentwood Theatre and Brentwood Foyer. And that's about it. But at least the public derives some benefit from Eric's big society activity. Francis Maude's sole entry is as a governor of Brighton College, an independent boarding and day school. And Oliver Letwin's only entry cites his governorship at Sherborne girls' school (boarding fees £9,000 a term). Their big society doesn't seem to be very big at all.
• Neither does that of the big society tsar, Lord Wei of Shoreditch, who was spied on Wednesday evening, sitting for an hour and a half with his wife on their own in the peers' guest room. Looked a bit forlorn by all accounts. A big society doesn't guarantee a wide circle of friends.
• Still, it does remain our best chance of fixing broken Britain. Of greening Britain too. "The corporate plant contract has been cancelled due to recent cost-cutting measures," says the memo to staff at the Department for Communities. "Corporate plants in Eland House are now in need of some green-fingered friends to ensure their survival. If you can find a few minutes every couple of weeks to provide some TLC in the form of regular watering and occasional feeding, please volunteer." You too, Eric. You too.
• And as the coalition hits its stride, the aforementioned Pickles draws the strength he needs to continue his reign of terror against local authorities. Far too many council workers earning more than £58,000, and too many chief executives trousering fat salaries, says Eric. We shall shine a light. Print their salaries. Name them. And he will no doubt be aided in his quest to safeguard the public shilling by the new director-general of finance and corporate services that he seeks – for whom, according to the ad in the Local Government Chronicle, a salary of £140,000 is deemed appropriate. He's spending a lot to save even more. For no one's belt pulls tighter than Eric's.
• Finally, just when it seemed no more grave accusations could be levelled at Mr WikiLeaks Julian Assange, his former lieutenant Daniel Domscheit-Berg pops up to denigrate him further. "Julian was constantly battling for dominance, even with my tomcat Herr Schmitt," says Domscheit-Berg, in his book Inside WikiLeaks: My Time with Julian Assange at the World's Most Dangerous Website. "Ever since Julian lived with me in Wiesbaden he (the cat) has suffered from psychosis." Assange was clearly the more dominant of the two, claims Domscheit-Berg, though on one famous occasion Herr Schmitt was able to "dispatch Julian with a quick swipe of the paw". It "must have been a nightmare for the tomcat", the author says. And what does Herr Schmitt say? You'll have to wait. Read the Sundays.