HISTORY is a most peculiar thing. For instance, the last thing the Hartlepool hierarchy seems to want is a statue of Andy Capp on the Headland.

Indeed, earlier this week, plans were announced for an officially-funded £260,000 16ft pair of light sculptures on the Headland. These will be ultra-modern, made of materials so futuristic they haven't been invented yet.

Hartlepool also needs its history, its Trincomalee and its Historic Quay: history that shows Hartlepool has been a major player on the world map since time immemorial. But it doesn't need the proposed Andy Capp statue.

Having a monkey as mayor is bad enough, and having a beer-swilling, workshy misogynist as the town icon will not ease presentational difficulties. In fact, the people proposing the statue have admitted as much because they have removed the characteristic tab from Mr Capp's lower lip.

This is where history becomes peculiar. People will go to Darlington's Railway Museum to see Locomotion No 1 from 1825, but only anoraks would visit a museum specialising in rail carriages from 1975. We'll visit museums showing the birth of the car, but will never take in an exhibition devoted to the Morris Marina.

In 50 years time, though, there will be a museum dedicated to the Marina, the Triumph Toledo, the Chrysler Avenger and the Austin Allegro.

Then history will accept Andy Capp as a fascinating social commentary on his age. Hartlepool will be able to claim that it was the town that put a smile on Britain's lips during the long dark days of the Thatcher years.

But not now. Andy Capp may be old but he is not yet history.

IT can be frustrating being a journalist. Earlier this week, The Northern Echo received a hot tip-off from a school concerning a Christmas card it had received from a man signing himself as Alan Milburn, "Darlington's Member of Parliment".

We may say "parlyment", but those Right Honourable Members who work there should have spotted by now that there's an 'a' in the middle of the word.

We journalists immediately set to work on the tip-off, dreaming up headlines which would pour scorn on the top member of a government dedicated to "edukayshun, edukayshun, edukayshun" who couldn't spell proper.

What a "card-astrophe" for Mr Milburn it would be. But it was not to be.

Ahem, said Mr Milburn's spokesperson when we asked for a comment. Do you know which renowned and venerable local organisation was solely responsible for the design and production of the Christmas card?

Great, we thought. The story gets better. It'll be the English students at the college with more As to their name than aardvark - proof that exams really aren't worth the paper they're written on.

The spokesperson gave us a couple of clues: they've been publishing since 1870; they regard themselves as one of the country's leading regional newspapers and they call themselves 'the great daily of the north'.

So, frustratingly, the great story about the MP who doesn't spot that parliament is mis-spelled in the Christmas card he sends to very important people is one that must never, ever see the light of day (so please don't tell anyone where you read it first).