I am angry. I am angry with the planning system, because it often gets it wrong. I am angry with planning officers because they are often wrong. I am angry with councillors, some at least, for not seeing it is wrong. But most of all, I am angry with myself. Because I got the question wrong.

Tesco were going for retrospective planning permission having breached planning conditions at their Shrewsbury store. Planning officers to nobody’s surprise recommended approval. I thundered in a letter to the press and councillors: “Who is in charge of planning in Shropshire—the council or Tesco?” It was the wrong question.

The day before the Tesco application was heard, I attended a marathon four-hour planning meeting to consider an incinerator just up the road from Tesco. This giant plant would greet visitors to Shrewsbury. It overlooks a historic battlefield site and is next door to the brand new Shropshire Food Enterprise Centre. These, and a 25-year lock in to technology towards the bottom of the waste hierarchy, were sufficient reasons to show this scheme the door.

But, although the applicant for the incinerator was Veolia, this was a Shropshire Council project. Planning officers were determined it would go through. The public attendance was a bit on the low side, around 100 people, but what they lacked in numbers they made up for in voice. A hundred people even quietly murmuring the same thoughts created an electric meeting. There were shouts, protests, one demonstrator was ejected but mostly it was a civilised occasion.

Sensing the committee was going against the scheme, the senior planner began to sum up. But this was not the usual summary of planning arguments, it was unashamed advocacy for the incinerator. As I tweeted at the time, “Planners usually explain their advice. Today they are doing a hard sales job. But hey its Shropshire Council[’s] incinerator.”

Then the planner stepped further over the line. Incinerators bring with them health fears. Such “irrational fears” he said were not a material planning consideration. The “irrational” audience guffawed and booed. It was too much for Shrewsbury MP Daniel Kawczynski who rose and condemned the planner for giving a biased summing up. The meeting was suspended until, after heated discussions in the wings, a truce was negotiated between the council’s solicitors and the MP. When the meeting resumed, however, council officers pressed even harder to get the scheme approved.

And thus it was the next day with Tesco. Officers not only recommended approval, they demanded approval. They told the committee they had decided that a rejection of the Tesco application would not be defensible at appeal. This was decided this before a word was said at the meeting and any grounds for rejection given. The committee was told that if it rejected Tesco’s bid, it would be referred to the next level committee.

What sort of democracy is that? If a committee says yes, that’s OK. If it says no, the whole process must be repeated by another committee to give planners a second chance to push it through. It was an insult to the wisdom and knowledge of committee members, who were treated like naughty children being reported to the headmaster. And like naughty children, their protests were slapped down and they were told to behave.

So that’s why I got it so wrong. I should not have asked: “Who is in charge of planning in Shropshire—Tesco or the council?”. I should have asked: “Who is in charge of planning—officers or democratically elected councillors?”

This question is not new. I recall similar concerns at the very first planning meeting I attended in Northampton 37 years ago. People tell me this question is being asked all over the country.

I am calmer now, my anger subsiding. This helped by two results. Despite being treated like miscreants, councillors tossed out the Tesco bid. And the unanimous vote to reject the incinerator was greeted by a well deserved and lengthy standing ovation.

Thank goodness for councillors. Here in Shropshire at least, they are still in control.