Councils should wage war on weeds – not let them grow on our streets

Lambeth Council’s insistence on allowing weeds the ‘chance to flower’ shows a complete lack of respect for residents

I got back from holiday last week to a garden that looked like a jungle – and not in a good way. The grass had gone crazy, my pots were shrivelled and the weeds had run rampant: in one corner a clump of nettles appeared to be staging a takeover bid, while the sheer volume of ragwort could have given the most poisonous country lane a run for its money. 
With the help of my indefatigable (and infinitely more horticulturally knowledgeable) Ma and Pa, I proceeded to spend a very satisfactory Sunday afternoon tidying everything up. We dug out the weeds, deadheaded the pot plants, mowed the lawn, tied up the straggling climbers and gave everything a jolly good water. The result has given me both hope and inspiration: I’ve since watered the pots every day, I’m determined to keep the weeds at bay and this weekend I’m going to try my hand at some propagation. 
The point is, weeds are all very well, but a tidy garden is much better for both body and soul. Which means I have great sympathy for the residents of Lambeth, where the council decided three years ago to ban chemical weed killer. They are now living in an urban equivalent of my post-holiday jungle, with weeds the size of small children sprouting all over the place.
Lambeth’s ostensible reason for the ban was to encourage residents to “embrace biodiversity”, but let’s not kid ourselves here, this was all about cost-cutting. Allowing weeds “the chance to flower” is a wily ruse by a council unwilling and unable to maintain its public spaces.
After it banned glyphosate weed killers, Lambeth Council palmed off responsibility for weed clearing to road sweepers employed by Serco (under a six-year contract worth £119 million), “but only as time allows”. Small wonder the streets of south-west London are starting to look a bit derelict. That rubbish levels also appear to have risen is hardly surprising, given that litterbugs probably assume, not unreasonably, that the council obviously doesn’t care about keeping things tidy. 
The broken windows theory posits that visible signs of disorder encourage more disorder. When my garden was full of weeds and desiccating plants, my primary feeling towards it was a combination of guilt and apathy. When the dog chewed yet another plastic plant pot to bits, I felt little urge to go and tidy up the pieces strewn around the grass. Now that it’s nice and neat again, any such debris will go straight in the bin (and besides, my plants are all now beautifully repotted in aesthetic and sustainable terracotta, as befits my wannabe gardener status). Looking out of the window is infinitely more cheering than it was a week ago, so I’m minded to keep it that way.
Why doesn’t Lambeth, metaphorically speaking, do the same? Nobody wants to live somewhere full of rubbish and weeds. By neglecting to deal with them, Lambeth Council (whose residents have seen their council tax go up 5.9 per cent this year) is effectively sticking two fingers up to locals – who know the difference, in both design and aesthetics, between a wildflower meadow and trees growing out of the cracks in their pavements.