Peter Rhodes: Too much Monty?

THERE is a common view among ladies of a certain age that you can't have too much Monty Don. Yes, you can. The BBC has expanded Gardener's World from 30 minutes to a whole hour. My goodness, doesn't it drag?

IN the latest programme, Don was reduced to cookery to help pad out the 60 minutes. He showed us how to turn chard into a slobbery sludge suitable for spreading on toast. Was anyone else reminded of Soylent Green?

IF you have encountered the new plastic £5 note, you may be wondering what the little window with an image of Big Ben is for. It is a security patch. Look through the window and squeeze the small round logo at the bottom left. If the note is genuine, you will hear the chimes of Big Ben. Do pass this tip on to your friends.

AS immigration dominates the party-conference season, a reader emails cheerily: "British is a term which describes a nation of people of truly mongrel origins. Our bloodlines include (he lists many nations) who have travelled and stayed here since medieval times. I'm not sure what it is you are worrying about." I suspect he is being disingenuous – pretending to know less than he does.

NO educated person denies that Britain has a long history of migration. But the influx of four million foreigners since the 1990s dwarfs anything that happened before. French Huguenots who fled France in the 17th century made up one of the biggest influxes England ever saw, yet they were a mere 50,000 spread over 30 years. Last year alone, 630,000 newcomers arrived in the UK – and that doesn't include illegal immigrants. What is happening now bears absolutely no relation to migration in the past and cannot be airily dismissed. Half the world is on the move and don't believe any politician who tells you he can stop it.

BUT change is not the same as catastrophe. Immigration, like global warming and fracking, does not necessarily lead us to what the gravel-tonsilled Barry McGuire in his gloom-laden 1965 ballad, the Eve of Destruction. Of which more tomorrow.

I LOVE the latest suggestion from Whitehall that restaurants serving huge pudding portions should be "named and shamed" in the fight against obesity. In this context, "named and shamed" = given a free advert.

IT is a strange thing about the human frame that, when you've wolfed down the prawn cocktail, soup of the day and 16oz T-bone steak with all the belly-busting trimmings, you are convinced you could not manage another spoonful. And then someone suggests a bungalow-sized slice of sticky toffee pudding with custard and double cream, and your giblets miraculously re-arrange themselves to make room.

AND just supposing eateries decided to reduce pudding portion for the common good, what would happen next? We have seen it with punters who avoid high prices for pub and club booze by "preloading" beforehand with a bottle or two of vodka. I can imagine serious noshers stuffing themselves with pudding before even arriving at the restaurant. Behold, a new social evil - pre-loading on spotted dick.