Why aren’t “umbrella licences” a thing?

The government demands we obtain a licence if we wish to drive a motor vehicle or own a shotgun, on the grounds these are dangerous weapons which can be hazardous to anyone in the vicinity unless operated with a requisite level of competence.

So why do the same restrictions not apply to pedestrians who insist on the right to wield an umbrella?

The heightened public interest from such a reform was, once again, on display this Wednesday, when central London was subject to a light drizzle during rush hour. Within moments the already-crowded pavements of Cheapside were visited by a swarm of umbrella canopies – surely a plague of locusts would’ve been preferable. 

Umbrella anatomy has clearly evolved to cause the maximum threat to the maximum number – with a dozen metal ribs that extend in all directions beyond the edge of the canopy, and which culminate in a sharp point.

Rihanna was bang out of order.  The chorus line of “Ella, ella, eh, eh, eh” may be ridiculously catchy, but – unless she’s obtained her licence – she shouldn’t be regaling us with lines such as “Now that it's raining more than ever / Know that we still have each other / You can stand under my umbrella / You can stand under my umbrella.”

Any readers who suspect I’m ranting in an overblown response to a single drizzling morning can be reassured that my scepticism about umbrella owners has been long and deeply held. In fact, it can be traced all the way back to 1990, when I was living in Manhattan with my incredible Prime Strategy Consultants co-workers David, Peter, Steve, Amanda, Kyla and others.  

This was my experience of how New York's legion of umbrella misuers endanger their fellow citizens – retrieved from my contemporaneous notes…

“If I'm ever elected mayor of Manhattan for a single day, my time in office will be dedicated to passing a single legislative act.

I would ban umbrellas.

Just before midday on the third Tuesday in August, the heavens opened. Tens of thousands of commuters who had paid attention to the morning weather report pressed in unison the dreaded rectangular buttons that lurk just above the handles of these wretched contraptions. And an inoffensive nylon and steel object small enough to slip into an attaché case underwent its demonic mutation. The cane sprung forward like an extending telescope, the spokes jutted out, and the canopy ballooned. It was like an invasion of aliens with malevolent intent. Every stretch of pavement was suddenly occupied by lethal weapons hovering six feet above the ground, held aloft by their subservient hosts. Any pedestrian travelling without the dubious benefit of such an accoutrement was in grave danger. A moment of inattention, and the sharp end of a random metal spoke might gash a forehead or poke an eye.

I would feel no qualms as putative mayor enacting such a decree. Because New York’s umbrella bearers seem devoid of any awareness of the carnage they wreck. When they engage their instruments of terror, their personal space expands by two feet in every direction – more for those who possess an insidious oversized golfing umbrella – yet the carriers are oblivious to the devastation around them. It’s as if the devices emit a fearsome transmission to dampen peripheral vision. On 42nd street, a middle aged lady with bulging shoulder pads strode towards me, her Barclays Bank umbrella clasped tight as if she was clutching the ropes of a lifeboat. Any moment now, I told myself, she’ll notice my existence, and weave to the left so her despicable weapon couldn’t inflict any grievous bodily injury. Fat chance. Her course remained resolute, and the obligation fell to me to take evasive action. At the last moment, I side-stepped into the road. My shoe was submerged in a filthy swirling puddle; my leg was perhaps two inches from being removed by a speeding taxi.

Yet Ms Shoulder Pads was immutable. No flicker of acknowledgement for her sins, no murmur of apology; by the time I’d shaken the worst detritus from my sock she was a block away. So, umbrellas would be banned without qualm or heartache, and breach of my signature law would be punishable by unlimited fines."