Peter Rhodes: Selling off the seaside

PETER RHODES on second homes, the Brexit-bus myth and a Reformation at the Beeb.

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HOW to take the perfect picture of the "supermoon." 1) Steal an archive pic of the moon. 2) Pinch a Google image of some famous building as background. 3) Photoshop it.

IN a quiet little Reformation, religious broadcasting at the BBC is moving from London to Glasgow where it will be organised by a department called Factual Scotland. So religion has suddenly become factual? Good to see Auntie Beeb still has a sense of humour.

I WONDER whether the change will at last open Radio 4's Thought for the Day to humanists, agnostics and atheists. At present, the programme creates the daily impression that in order to be good, wise, forgiving, peaceful and thoughtful, you must believe in a deity. The evidence from around the world suggests the opposite is true.

AS Donald Trump sends out friendly messages to Vladimir Putin, it may seem that these two leaders have much in common. In fact, there is one big difference. Admittedly, both are billionaires (Putin is many times richer than Trump). The difference is that Trump got rich before entering politics.

FIVE parishes in Cornwall are hoping to ban the purchase of second homes, in order to preserve accommodation for local people. It strikes me as odd in such stories that the perceived villains are always the rich, home-grabbing city folk who sweep into pretty seaside villages buying up holiday homes for their idle pleasures. No-one ever seems to blame the local folk who are only too eager to sell.

IN an idle moment on Netflix, mysteriously filed under "Sci-Fi" we found the 2012 movie Cirque du Soleil: Worlds Away. It is utterly enchanting with breathtaking circus acts, some set to Beatles music. Best of all, if you've ever seen Cirque du Soleil live and winced in horror at every near-fall, you can relax during the movie version, knowing that no-one is going to get killed. Another bonus is that there are hardly any clowns. Perfect for a wet, miserable, tea-and-crumpets November night.

GREAT myths of our time. It is passing into folklore that during the EU campaign, the Brexiteers put a slogan on the side of a bus promising to take £350 million we pay each week into the EU and spend it on the NHS instead. This is a clear, unequivocal promise. And yet you won't find a single image of this alleged bus-pledge. The actual promise appeared on a referendum poster reading: "Let's give our NHS the £350 million the EU takes every week." The Brexit bus slogan was different and merely read: "We send the EU £350 million a week. Let's fund our NHS instead." You may argue with the figure of £350 million. You may quote the words on the poster. You may think I'm splitting hairs. But the tale of a bus slogan categorically promising £350 million a week more for the NHS is a myth.

INCIDENTALLY, I may have discovered the perfect answer to people who ask why I voted for Brexit. I explain that I am very poorly educated and hate foreigners. It seems to work.