They're planning to sell milk in plastic bags.

I don't want to find one of those on my doorstep, thank you very much.

The only proper container for a pinta is a glass bottle – although I will just about accept a waxed cardboard carton.

The worst invention in the world was that little pyramid carton which contained a pint of milk.

You could only open it by snipping off the corner with a pair of scissors and soon learned to duck at the right moment because there was always the risk the milk would spurt out all over you.

And if you hadn't got any scissors or a knife to hand you had to tear off the corner with your teeth. It wasn't easy.

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Some might wonder how supermarkets can try and cut down the use of plastic bags while at the same time producing even more for milk.

I marvelled at the danger of opening a wibbly, wobbly, plastic pinta until I read on.

You can only open the bag safely using a special plastic jug.

You put the bag – they call it a pouch – in the jug, close the lid and a spike pierces the bag and releases the milk.

But there is a catch.

The jug costs £2.49 and – guess what? – it's made of plastic.

They're dressing up all this extra expense by claiming it cuts down on packaging and saying that in Canada they've been using them for 30 years.

That cuts little ice with me. Canadians don't have milkmen.

Which brings me back to Paris. They don't have them there either.

But they did for one day only some years ago when the old Milk Marketing Board dreamed up a wizard wheeze.

They took the champion Milko of Yorkshire – I forget who he was – to the French capital as a publicity stunt.

He was to go around in his uniform (they couldn't afford to bring his float) with a clutch of bottles and plonk them down in typical – and scenic – French locations.

There was our milko on the Metro, in front of the Eiffel tower, by the banks of the Seine and in a typical street.

Goodness knows what the French made of it because they are strangers to fresh milk. All they drink is that disgusting UHT milk.

What do you think? Post your comments below.

Of course, they needed a reporter and photographer to make it all worth while and I wasn't going to turn down a day trip to Paris, particularly as it involved lunch in a barge restaurant on the Seine.

Whether the stunt improved sales back home I haven't a clue but it taught me the real value of having a milkman.

A doorstep pinta may be 59p compared to 40p in supermarkets but it's a social service.

It not only keeps Mr Milko in a job and supports Mrs Milko and all the little Milkos but our streets are safer for having someone around at five in the morning.

And the milkman is an early warning system if he spots a pensioner hasn't left the money for his or her usual pinta.

After all this time I can't quite remember what happened to the milk bottles we took to Paris. I expect we left them on a doorstep somewhere.


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