AS alarm bells go, there hasn't been such a commotion since that ding-dong at the cathedral with Quasimodo and Esmerelda. We are, of course, referring to Cape Town mayor Patricia de Lille's prima donna performance in response to criticism of the city's recent potentially disastrous and possibly criminal planning decisions.
Opposition to proposals to amend the urban edge of the Philippi Horticultural Area - the city's veggie basket - to make way for residential development is growing hand over fist. Agricultural bodies, academics and various other civic groups have all argued that prime agricultural land should not make way for housing.
The Philippi brouhaha is but one conflict in a much broader battle the city will face as it gears up to roll out its Spacial Development Framework, the blueprint that will see the Peninsula buried under a three-storey carpet of concrete. Concerns that neighbourhoods will be irreparably damaged are not without foundation, yet little is done to allay such fears.
When the draft proposals to "streamline the system of delegations that relate to planning of the city" were unveiled, ratepayers' organisations pointed out that the envisaged changes all but stripped them of their rights to object to projects that didn't comply with zoning laws. They were dismissed as being stupid. As councillor Garreth Bloor, responsible for economic, environmental and spatial planning, put it, "There is a general lack of understanding of the matter."
With such an attitude, it's unsurprising that De Lille has been accused of being intolerant and dictatorial. She responded by having a cow. There was shoddy journalism afoot, she fumed in her weekly newsletter. And, given that this was conveniently around the "time of National Women's Day", a great deal of sexism, too; "nameless cowards" were reducing her to "some kind of stereotype".
Speaking of which, the cliches about protesting too much and there being no smoke without fire did come to mind. But, not to be outdone in the stereotype department, the mayor offered up a few of her own.
She, herself, was of course quite fearless when it came to the good fight against "hundreds of years of learnt patriarchy". There was that time at Codesa, for example, negotiating the new Constitution. Whenever Cyril Ramaphosa and Joe Slovo shouted and "banged their hands on desks in front of them" they were labelled "decisive" and "strong leaders". But whenever she did the same, poor Patsy, she was called "aggressive". It was all very unfair.
And of course, those who expressed misgivings with the city's plans, well, they were typically the very worst kind of people - villains who were were "desperate to retain the apartheid spatial status quo".
But, being the doughty champion of the downtrodden that she is, the mayor resolutely ploughs ahead with her plans, and in the buzzy soundbite of the moment, it's all "out with the red-tape and in with the red carpet" when it comes to doing business with the city.
What an exciting time. Some people are about to become obscenely rich, literally at the stroke of a pen. Especially in Philippi. Look at it this way. If land zoned for agricultural use had a market value of, let's say, R35 000 a hectare, what would its value be if it was rezoned for residential or commercial use? About R35-million a hectare?
It's little wonder, then, that in Cape Town, we have property developers like Judd Smith who, until about a month ago, was in the habit of motoring about the place and rubbing his success story in our grubby faces.
Then, alas, his R2.5-million Lamborghini Murcielago caught fire while he was driving on Kloof Nek Road above Camps Bay one evening.
He was desperately trying to flag down passersby to help him. However, those that stopped were only interested in filming the spectacle. There are clips of it on YouTube. That's a lot of car to just go like that.
Smith later told the Sunday Times he's had a "lifelong" obsession with Lamborghinis. He's only 39, but then he did get his first one when he was 24, so he's had quite a few. Interestingly - and only because it raises questions about his driving skills - he had another of his Lamborghinis burst into flames four years ago after he punctured its gearbox on a kerb.
He may not be so lucky the next time one of his road rockets catches fire. Such will be our general displeasure with property developers and their works that we will all scramble to help out at the blaze, armed not with buckets of sand, but cans of petrol.
This article first appeared in the Weekend Argus.
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