Peter Rhodes on Lords, gorillas and missiles that go “plop!”

But then it's not exactly a source of national pride, either. Especially to those of us who believe the Lords, the finest old folks' club in Britain, should have been closed down years ago.

Earlier this week, I reported that the US had pumped 500 billion dollars into the defence of Ukraine. 

A reader asks, surely you mean 350 billion? Other sources suggest between 100 and 150 billion. 

I was tempted to correct my original figure but, hell, if Trump doesn't claim 500 billion this week, he probably will next week, or the week after that. If the first casualty of war is truth, the second is maths.

There are definite advantages in getting your news in printed form. I wonder how many radio listeners this week woke up to the shocking report that giant marauding apes were being released on Dartmoor. 

Turns out the menace is not “gorilla rewilding” but “guerilla rewilding,” in this case the illegal release of wild boars. Stand down, Tarzan . . .

I encountered one of these fearsome creatures in the Cotswolds where it and the local livestock were presenting animal stereotypes. 

There was a long feeding trough in a meadow. At one end of the trough, a nervous posse of sheep were eating, sheepishly. At the other end was a huge wild boar, hogging it.

It emerged this week that France may be willing to protect Europe with jets carrying nuclear bombs but Britain will not follow suit. Why not? 

Because while the French have nuclear bombs, the RAF abandoned theirs in 1998. Today, our nuclear deterrent consists of submarine-based Trident missiles which, according to the owner's manual, are supposed to strike with pinpoint accuracy. 

But the last one we test-fired, about a year ago, plopped into the sea close to the sub, causing much embarrassment for us and much amusement, I dare say, in the Kremlin. With deterrents like this, who needs enemies?

It might have helped Euro-American affairs this week if Trump had pronounced the French president's name correctly. He seemed to think his VIP guest was a Scotsman called McCrone.