The hard-working people of Britain

A READER asks, if making a call on an Orange mobile counts towards his seven portions of fruit and veg, what about using an Apple?

AS we hacks tremble in fear of the new press-complaints body to be set up post-Leveson, I only hope we get something like the system which judged culture secretary Maria Miller. This works by setting up a fine-sounding independent commissioner who examines the evidence and declares that you are an absolute bounder and must repay £45,000. Then a committee of your own chums in the office quashes that verdict and declares that you are a thoroughly good egg who made a few entirely understandable mistakes and must pay only £5,000. What a great system. Bring it on.

MEANWHILE, I treasure that moment in the Daily Telegraph investigation when a minion in Miller's department suggested (you may think in a threatening manner) that the reporter should have spoken to "someone higher in your organisation" before knocking on Miller's front door. This form of words is the journalistic equivalent of the criminal who greets the detective with a masonic handshake and says: "Do you know I am a personal friend of the chief constable?" Such words bring joy to the hearts of cops and hacks alike for what they mean is that you are definitely on to something and the suspect is worried.

HAVE you noticed how politicians no longer talk about people? We have become "hard-working people." Gordon Brown started it, in his stern Scottish growl, implying that the only decent people were those with their noses pushed damned hard against the grindstone. But now every MP and minister has adopted it. When the railway in Devon reopened, David Cameron declared: "This is a great day for the hard-working people of Dawlish." As John Humphrys remarked on Today (Radio 4) was it not also a great day for the layabouts of Dawlish? If "hard-working people" were a meaningless phrase it would be harmless enough. But it's actually rather patronising, a sort of pat on the head by our ruling classes. "Hard-working" is an updated version of "good." A century ago, the average well-heeled politician would have referred to "the good people of Dawlish," meaning they were a bunch of reliable, predictable, well-behaved cap-doffers who knew their place and voted for the right party. "Good people" and "hard-working people" are what our leaders call us instead of calling us peasants.

A READER says the BBC World Service is "totally independent of government." In fact, until this month it was funded by the Foreign Office. It is now paid for from the TV licence fee and is subject to the same political and financial control as the rest of the Corporation. It is also possibly the most depressing radio station in existence, pumping out a nightly diet of slavery, mutilation, famine and state violence in so-called developing countries. I'm not sure what message it is supposed to convey but every time I listen to its litany of Third World people being beastly to each other, I give thanks I live in Britain.

IN fact, the World Service paints such a depressing picture of the world south of Dover that it should consider replacing its irritating jingle with a lusty chorus of those 1950s legends Flanders and Swann singing: "The English, the English, the English are best / I wouldn't give tuppence for all of the rest."

ANOTHER healthy-eating dilemma. A reader writes: "Last night my wife hit me with a rolling pin and gave me a cauliflower ear. Can I count this towards my seven a day?"