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Captain Beany from the Planet Beanus It wasn't that he had let the hedge run wild. No, the problem was that he had carefully trimmed it into the shape of a whale. It even had a blow-hole with a blast of water shooting skywards, depicted by a white-flowering shrub that fanned out at its peak.

The council claimed that Monro's topiary was obstructing the pavement and posed a threat to pedestrians. Blind people were being forced into the road, they argued. Already I could feel some of Monro's anger bubbling up inside me. You could see that this hedge was not forcing people out into the quiet, residential street.

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Yes, it bulged a little over the pavement, but you would have to be at least a yard wide to collide with it. 'The hedge gets compliments from passers-by the whole time,' insisted Monro. 'Some of them think it's a peacock but they love it.' 'What I still don't understand is why the council even bothered to write to me in the first place. I mean, have they really got nothing better to do?' I wanted to shout. I was burning with rare indignation, for his story seemed to confirm an otherwise vague hunch: the country I lived in was being wiped clean of its anomalies.

On the radio, on television, in newspapers and magazines, thudding about like spent cannonballs, were expressions like 'the nanny state', 'clone towns', 'European standardisation', and 'health and safety-o-cracy'. All this pointed to the same alarming conclusion: that we are in danger of wiping out a species which is as much a part of Englishness as cups of tea, the Sex Pistols or the Queen.

I'm talking about the great English eccentric. In full costume the eccentric takes to the streets Originally the word 'eccentric' was written 'ex-centric', meaning away from the centre, and we English seem to have a peculiar talent for producing those mavericks who will not be moulded by society's idea of 'normal' behaviour. Refusing to care what others think, and symbolising the less inhibited and more childlike approach to life that deep down most of us aspire to, such figures have long played a pivotal role in our national life. Where would we be without Jonas Hanway, the 18th-century philanthropist who first dared to walk the streets of London while holding a wooden stick which supported a canopy of oiled silk over his head? Oblivious to the ridicule of passing coachmen, Hanway persisted and soon his invention, the umbrella, was jeopardising the livelihoods of those very coachmen who had mocked him. Physicist Oliver Heaviside was another creative eccentric. Living alone and in the dark for many years before his death in 1925, he painted his nails cherry red, and had granite blocks moved into his house as furniture, for some reason best known to himself.

His behaviour no doubt puzzled his neighbours in North London but his scientific research contributed hugely to our understanding of how the earth's atmosphere is structured and earned him a nomination for the Nobel Prize in History clearly shows us that England needs such people and, having seen what was happening to Zac Monro, a walking, talking, hedge-trimming English eccentric if ever I saw one, I decided to track down England's last remaining eccentrics and share their plight with the rest of the world before it was too late. My plan was to find the leader of the tribe, England's most eccentric man or woman. If no one else did, surely they would know how to save their kind from extinction? First, though, I wanted to understand why we English are so famous for our eccentrics - and the answer seemed to lie in the reign of King George III, whose bouts of insanity after he came to the throne in 1760 changed attitudes towards mental illness. Previously, people had paid 2d to gawp at the inmates of lunatic asylums such as Bedlam in London and hire sticks to prod them if they felt they weren't getting their money's worth.