I began to disengage from the green movement back in 1991, when the goalie-turned-environmentalist David Icke announced on a TV chat show that he was the Messiah. Until then I had been a fellow traveller in a campaign where Lycra-clad cyclists made common cause with the road protesters of the Donga Tribe.
I realised that Mr Icke, who later theorised that chortling Tory Sir Edward Heath was a giant space lizard, did not precisely represent the green centre ground. Yet, for me, his full-blooded craziness reflected the political impracticality of many saner greens.
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