Sometimes I despair. How in God’s name is it possible for a council cutting services, and pleading poverty to pay its top managers £246,000 and £166,000 respectively?

In 2016 one Cheshire East director received a 23 per cent pay rise to £159,000 per annum, which brings the number of Cheshire East Council directors earning more than the Prime Minister to six.

What do Cheshire East Council think the rest of its staff will make of such largesse when their pay has gone backwards in real terms for the past eight years?

This is not helped by the fact that the chief executive, on almost quarter of a million pounds per annum, has been suspended on full pay.

So taxpayers must shell out £20,000 per month to have him sitting at home.

How long that will continue is anyone’s guess, but based on the sloth demonstrated in similar situations it could be a long wait.

While we are on the subject does anyone know the difference between a chief executive (£246,000) and a chief operating officer (£166,000)? This is not a trivia question.

Cheshire East Council has somehow contrived to employ both while the entire care system for the most vulnerable is in freefall. This isn’t just unfair it’s morally wrong and the worst of it is Cheshire East Council don’t appear to care.

Yes, we hear the slick words and the lame excuses but they have no meaning whatsoever to those on the bottom rung of the social ladder who have been well and truly shafted.

Cheshire East Council claim these sickeningly excessive salaries must be paid to get the best executives.

Meanwhile, nurses are told they must settle for one per cent and the rest of us will be lucky to get that. This is the economic background against which Cheshire East Council approved a 23 per cent pay increase for one of its directors, paid another four over £150,000 per annum and whacked up the pay of its now suspended chief executive to £246,000.

In the past, Cheshire East Council has shed executives like Wayne Rooney changes socks.

One minute they are ‘reaching for the stars’ next minute they are reaching for the door with a fat cheque.

It’s high time residents said no.

Clearly the council is not going to take a stand against this appalling use of taxpayer’s money.

While the sick, elderly and vulnerable can be told there is insufficient funds to meet their needs it appears council directors cannot. Their demands trump every other financial consideration.

Councillors need to man-up, show some backbone, fight for what they believe is right and put a stop to this.

THESE GUYS HAVE GOT SOME NECK I met a friend for lunch at the Coach and Four this week.

We caught up on each other’s news and he told me he had witnessed the birth of a giraffe at Chester Zoo.

“Giraffes are incredible animals,” he said, clearly impressed by the experience.

After discussing football, President Trump and the state-of-the-nation we finally said our goodbyes and headed off home in our separate directions.

I was motoring along Wilmslow Road, singing to the radio when I thought I saw a giraffe peering at me from the roadside.

I carried on into Prestbury village but couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was perhaps unwell.

Maybe my Coke had been spiked or was I (as Mrs B often predicts) losing the plot?

My pal had been blathering on a lot about giraffes, it probably filtered down to my subconscious.

Yes that was it… osmosis I believe it’s called.

But it was no use I couldn’t continue.

I turned the car around and headed back towards Wilmslow convinced I would see nothing but hedgerows then suddenly there they were by the side of the road… an entire herd of giraffes (well six at least).

I pulled over and took the above photo just to prove I hadn’t gone completely bonkers.

How did a herd of fake giraffes come to be living in Prestbury?

If you have the answer do tell.

WHY ARE WIVES SO CRUEL?

I was making early morning coffee when the house phone rang.

Mrs B answered the call, with a curt ‘I see,’ a couple of ‘Mms’ and a swift ‘Goodbye.’ “Who was that?” I asked cheerfully.

“Sylvia.”

“What did she want?”

“To tell me you are on the front page of the Guardian.”

“You don’t look very happy about it.”

“Just tell me what you’ve done. I do not want to go shopping with a bag over my head again.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“The last time you said that you’d just caused mass panic blowing up Macclesfield town hall live on local radio.

“Just a Guy Fawkes day prank.”

“And that campaign urging people to adopt a maggot for charity?”

“It was going quite well until I gave them one to take home.”

“What about flying through next door’s hedge on roller blades, tipping French dressing on the head of the lady sat in front of you on the plane or your self-build bike that lost a wheel hurtling down the steepest hill in Cheshire?

“Err…”

“Need I go on?”

Sometimes wives can be very cruel.

Do you agree with Vic Barlow? Email your letters to yourviews@guardiangrp.co.uk You can read Barlow’s Brew online at wilmslowguardian.co.uk You can email Vic at vicbarlow@icloud.com