Peter Rhodes: Tweet in haste, repent at leisure

THE story about wicked America refusing entry to Muslims turned out to be a Christmas turkey and faded away before it had properly begun. And that's a shame because, behind all the false outrage and daft conspiracy theories, it held an important lesson for our time.

THE story began when a British Muslim family, having obtained all the paperwork required for a trip to Disneyland, were turned away by US immigration officials at Gatwick. Here was clear proof, at least for the excitable liberal fringe, that the States was already imposing the measures demanded by presidential hopeful Donald ("Keep 'Em All Out") Trump. And then the tale began to unravel. For a start, if there was a US policy of excluding Muslims, hundreds of thousands of trippers would have been turned away. Next, this "family group" comprised two adult men and nine children, which may seem odd. The family's address was said to be linked to a pro-Islamist Facebook page, which some might think alarming. The father allegedly had a brother who had been refused entry to Israel. There is no question of any illegality. Each of these issues is said to have a simple, innocent explanation. But when a humble CIA operative types the name of some Brit into his computer and the screen lights up like a Christmas tree, what's he gonna do? Will he bend over backwards to find reasons to allow you into the United States? Why should he? The quick, safe, easy and simple response is nope.

THE important lesson for our time? It is that in this digital age, everything we say or do has consequences. The authorities, ever-vigilant for terror plots, do not have to pry too deeply into your affairs; a quick scan of your blabbings on Twitter and Facebook may suffice. If you imagine, for example, that you can denounce the Great Satan America to your mates in the morning and book tickets for New York in the afternoon, think again.

IT is weird enough seeing daffs sprouting and songbirds canoodling in this balmy December. The really bizarre and unpleasant thing is the sight of so many blotchy blokes wearing shorts. Oh, dear.

BEST Xmas present? Unquestionably the turntable which, by some bizarre twist of technology, is far cheaper now than it ever was in the days of vinyl. Ah, the joy of hearing Beatles for Sale and After the Gold Rush, unplayed for 20 years.

WE live in the age of the drone. These flying machines fitted with video cameras bring us unrivalled coverage of everything from gardening programmes to the TV news and are superb at capturing the extent of this week's floods. For a few quid, producers now have access to camera-angles that used to involve booking a helicopter and film crew for a whole day at ruinous expense. Good news for the programme makers and the TV viewers. Bad news, presumably, for the helicopter industry.

AS regular readers are aware, one of my many phobias is the one about cracking your teeth on lead shot in game birds. We had four pheasants for Christmas (not as guests, you understand) yet found only one tiny lead pellet among all four carcases. Either we have been ingesting a lot of lead without noticing or this was an amazing feat of marksmanship.

INCIDENTALLY, a good test for whether you've been eating lead is a sudden loss of short-term thingummy, er, wossname. It'll come to me in a moment. . . .