READING about the 15th anniversary of the animal export protests at Brightlingsea this week, made me ponder how I have never really been the protesting type.

I grew up in fortunate circumstances, where there was little to protest about. A quick sit down demo on the kitchen floor when there were sprouts for tea was about as riotous as it got.

It’s not that I don’t feel strongly about things, it’s just it seems so futile.

I would gladly protest to Save the Whales and fire harpoons at the Japanese embassy, but then feel guilty I was not protesting about the fact this country’s record of arms sales to dodgy regimes would make the devil blush.

As we learn troops from Colchester are about to be sent back to Afghanistan, I could have campaigned at Downing Street over the fact we have been in a war there for years without having the proper equipment.

But how can you defeat politicians who know no shame and to whom resignation and honour are completely alien concepts?

I can picture it now, me standing there shouting with a police helicopter on surveillance overhead, while troops in Afghanistan are dying because of a lack of them.

It’s enough to make you want to start a revolution, but its hard to motivate the masses in this country. We are so used to dismal failure, we readily accept it.

I would gladly wave a placard about the Visual Arts Facility fiasco but let’s face it, what’s the point?

The money has already been thrown away and I would be better waving a shovel about and helping get the thing finished.

I could protest at much of what Essex County Council does and chain myself to the railings, only to have Lord Hanningfield peer at me as he was whisked past in his chauffeured car.

The Brightlingsea animal export protests were entirely laudable and I salute those who campaigned so effectively, but the sad cynic would say the ending was the same and the animals were not released to live in peace and harmony in Paul McCartney’s garden.

Another problem is, I also tend to feel a little out of place. The British are just not very good at protesting.

In France, if the price of baguette flour rises by a cent they are burning buildings, blockading ports and attacking sliced bread lorry drivers.

But in the UK, protesting is largely a minority sport met with a degree of suspicion.

The right wing press will belittle the protesters as well-meaning, trendy vicars with beards, the usual trade union types with Scouse accents, or scruffy types with dreadlocks who will fight for a cause, but not to get to the front of the jobs queue.

Such stereotypes are insulting but even I suspect there are many neer-do-well hangers-on who just fancy a ruck.

I suspect half of the people who protested at the G8 summit probably thought G8 was an alcopop.

These are the types who imagine they are striking a blow against capitalism and US globalism by smashing the window of Starbucks while wearing trousers from Gap. And why do people who campaign against the arms trade almost inevitably wear combat trousers?

However, nowadays I find myself getting so mad over so many things, it won’t be long until I give myself a nickname like Squidgy and start chanting “Stop the Everything”.

Where to start? The current row over “booze Britain” would certainly make me feel bitter if lager was not my drink of choice.

In a bid to stop drunkenness, Labour’s latest plan is to make just about everything illegal.

If in doubt, point a CCTV camera at it and make some laws.

Pubs already operate under strict conditions, but rather than police them properly, they want some new, headline-grabbing legislation.

Surprisingly, however, Labour doesn’t want to stop supermarkets selling alcohol cheaper than bottled water. Presumably because many large supermarket chains donate money to the party.

They say they don’t want to penalise responsible drinkers, presumably just those who enjoy a cheap pint in the pub.

People don’t get paralytic because the pubs are open longer, they do so because they have no self-restraint.

For protests to work, you have to believe politicians give a damn about public opinion and there is scant evidence they do.

However, sometimes protests do make a difference and it is time we all got more involved in fighting for what we believe in.

On second thoughts, re the booze Britain row, better make mine a bitter.