That's entertainment

I WAS overtaken by a peacock (the butterfly, not the bird) while walking into town. Later, we had fresh English strawberry sponge for tea. Not bad for November, is it?

OUR changing language. The words "important information" at the beginning of a recorded phone message mean you can cheerfully hang up without missing any information that is important.

BY chance, just before Israel sealed off the al Aqsa mosque in Jerusalem a few days ago, a reader sent me a joke which is probably as old as David and Goliath. A journalist interviews an old chap praying at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem and discovers he has been praying there for 70 years. So what does he pray for? The old man says he prays for world peace, for understanding between Jews and Muslims and a for happy settlement to the Holy Land's many problems. "And how do you feel, after praying here for 70 years?" asks the hack. "You know," smiles the old man. "Sometimes it's like talking to a brick wall."

THE double-glazing man arrived and our cat, being a cat, jumped into the back of his van. Thankfully we spotted him but so far we have encountered a plumber who inadvertently brought two kittens all the way from a job in Aberystwyth and an electrician who was summoned by a frantic call from a customer and drove 100 miles from East Anglia to return a cat, only to be told by the householder: "That's not our cat." Curiosity may not kill the cat but it certainly opens a whole new world of van travel.

PLEASE, Mr Cameron, don't change British drug laws, just because a new report suggests decriminalisation, as practised in Portugal, seems to work. The fact is that almost everyone enjoys the so-called "war on drugs" which has been fought for the last 40 years. Coppers love it because it gives them a chance to smash down doors, wave their batons and shout at villains. Door- repairers love it, for obvious reasons. Senior police officers love it because it allows them to plan and execute secret raids, thus improving their promotion prospects. We in the media love it because it produces exciting copy, dramatic photos and thrilling TV footage. The public love it because it makes entertaining, satisfying viewing with hooded bad guys being arrested. And even drug dealers love the war on drugs because, as soon as a rival dealer is banged up and his cache is confiscated, the local price of drugs goes up and there is new turf to be exploited. Yes, everyone loves the war on drugs. The fact that it has cost us billions and achieved absolutely nothing, that it is now easier to buy drugs anywhere in Britain than it was 40 years go, should not detract from this great national entertainment.

A READER who started his National Service in 1952 wonders whether the four shillings a day he and his mates were paid was worth more or less than the shilling a day paid to squaddies in the 1914-18 First World War. A little research suggests £1in 1914 was equal to about £3.60 in 1952 so the National Service lads were slightly better off. You get some very odd requests in this job.

OVERHEARD in a shop: "It's not what it used to be. You could really feel the heat of the fire. Now, you can't even keep warm. You want a good warm, don't you , not bloody health and safety." That's a mum complaining about her neighbourhood bonfire which is not so much organised as regimented.