Surely not nul points?

I'M not surprised the Prince of Wales's handshake with Gerry Adams lasted 12 seconds. I once shook hands with Adams and it did go on a bit. He has an excellent dry, warm, firm handshake and his eye-contact, smile, demeanour and body-language all say: "Trust me." I didn't.

EUROVISION is at hand. Do not despair. The UK entry, Still in Love with You, is a snappy little number and the performers, Electro Velvet, are terrific. Or at least they are terrific in the official video version of the song. The snag is that, on the night, nobody cares about your video. Every act performs live and it is not unknown for Eurovision hopefuls to forget the words, sing off-key or fall off the stage. Strange how the word "live" can be the kiss of death.

THE Police Federation says that lowering the drink-drive alcohol limit should discourage a new generation of women drink-drivers. Not before time. I once accompanied a police highway patrol, pulling in likely boozers. They stopped one woman who was, by any logical definition, as drunk as a lord. She was weaving all over the road, could barely stand up and was giggling helplessly about how much rum she had drunk (at the police club, embarrassingly enough). Yet the breathalyser was borderline and the alcohol-test device at the police station insisted she was under the limit. The cops had no option but to take her back to her car to continue her journey. Mind how you go.

LISTEN. I will say zis only once. If you build a house without planning permission, the local council can make you knock it down. The rules could not be simpler nor more draconian. And yet every year a few clots decide to stake their dreams and life savings on taking a chance. Maybe they think nothing will happen. Maybe they believe in fairies. Or maybe they should share the experience of us hacks who have stood at the building sites and watched any number of Mr and Mrs Chancers, who honestly thought it could never happen to them, sobbing hysterically as the JCB smashes their castle to pieces. Damned Designs (C4) tells the tale of the unwary, the ill-advised and the plain thick as they are pursued by council officials "like avenging furies," as one outraged Guardian writer put it. In truth, they are pursued only because they are determined to make themselves pursuable. And if they were not pursued, our green and pleasantish land would be covered with mock castles, eco-villages, scrapyards, pink palaces and lord knows what else. Council planning officials may be a pain but, when it comes to defending Britain, they are right up there with Winston Churchill.

A READER admits a nasty case of cashpoint / shopping / petrol rage, when the customer in front of him approached the cashpoint and did the following: Get card from purse. Insert card and type PIN number. Request printed balance. Look at balance. Take card out and get another card. Insert card and type number. Request printed balance. Look at balance. Take card out and put in the first card, insert card and type in number. withdraw money and wait for printed receipt. Put cards away. Pop into forecourt shop. Fill basket with food, then return to car - which has been parked at the pump all this time, as the queue fumed.

PEDANT corner. Yes, I am fully aware that "PIN number" is a tautology because the N stands for "number." But "PIN" on its own looks stupid and "PI number" looks stupider.