Best of Peter Rhodes - December 19

Here's a selection of the best of the Peter Rhodes column taken from the Express & Star for the week ending December 19.

A READER says he knew he'd been watching too much pre-Xmas telly when the 17th TV chef showed him how to cook a turkey.

THANKS for your memories of worst-ever Christmas presents. My favourites so far are the mini-trampoline (for a lady with a bad back), a book on crustaceans (for a man interested in military history) and the large, beautifully wrapped package under the Christmas tree which contained 10 rolls of wallpaper and two packets of paste.

MY QUEST for the worst Christmas present also brought a letter from a retired postman. He remembers the days when the then hugely profitable Post Office rewarded its staff with a free book of 12 first-class stamps. He recalls: "One year, for our annual bonus, we all had a packet of either flower seeds or cabbage and lettuce seeds. The Post Office said they would be very useful as a lot of postmen were keen gardeners. I pointed out that a lot of us were also keen motorists, so could we all have a new Mini?"

SAD story from Inner Mongolia where Wang Dienge was found dead after a thunderstorm in the wreckage of his home. The family assumed he had been struck by lightning. But as the body was cremated it exploded, blowing the doors off the crem. It was then discovered that Mr Wang had been struck not by lightning but by an unexploded shell which had been fired into the sky by the authorities to break up a hailstorm. The warhead lodged in his body and went off in the crematorium. The family has been awarded £8,000 compensation. The rest of us are reminded of the old soldier's saying: If it's got your number on it . . .

MR WANG'S demise is a reminder that what goes up must come down. I knew an old chap who was a fire watcher in Birmingham during the last war and saw the terrible damage caused by the fallout from Brum's own anti-aircraft shells. As he put it ruefully: "The Germans would send over a spotter plane and we'd wreck the city."

THE Daily Mail sent the famously grumpy Michael Winner to something called Santa School. And guess what? The hardboiled old restaurant critic and maker of the bloody Death Wish series found himself reduced to tears on his first outing as Father Christmas. I'm not surprised. I had tea with Winner some years ago after the launch of his dreadful movie of serial murder, Parting Shots. For all his vile, bloodsoaked films, Winner was delightful company. As I wrote back then: "Face of St Peter, body of Pooh Bear, voice as rich as plum pudding." If that doesn't add up to Father Christmas, what does?

"WE ARE careful about ensuring such events provide value for money." BBC spokesman on why Auntie spent £160,000 on four parties to launch The Passion, Little Dorrit, Merlin and No 1 Ladies Detective Agency. Good to see they're still promoting comedy.

IT IS a truth universally acknowledged that passionate love in the early days of marriage quickly gives way to something more mundane. Or is it? A lot of us think it is nonsense, put about by sad people in dire marriages (the same people who endlessly tell us "you really have to work at marriage," as though it is fact). Now comes research from a university in New Jersey which shows that romantic love can last for decades. This is reassuring for those of us who get home every evening, behold the Old Trout and still feel a silly teenage rush of affection. We are not the freaks. I suspect we may even be the majority.

THE Iraqi reporter who threw two shoes at President George Bush was so badly beaten by police that he is unable to attend court. Regime change, eh? Doesn't it make you so proud?

THE MET Office is almost apologetic for forecasting not a white Christmas but a foggy, frosty one. Look, lads, we will be delighted with anything but another mild, wet green one. Frost and fog will be dandy.

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