Peter Rhodes unveils a Christmas Eve selection of the best of readers' contributions in 2020

Read the latest column from Peter Rhodes.

Scotch eggs – laid by the haggis?
Scotch eggs – laid by the haggis?

Another year passes, another 12 months in which I have been grateful for hundreds of comments, jokes, reprimands and suggestions from those who follow these blogs and columns. Once again it's time to thank you all, to wish you a very Merry Christmas and to pluck out some of the best from those 2020 contributions that begin: “A reader writes . . .”

A reader writes: “Will the Government allow a staggered entry into pubs? After all, most of us drinkers are familiar with making a staggered exit.”

“Covidiots are saying that nobody will prevent them from visiting their friends and relatives this Christmas and enjoying themselves. Maybe so. Nobody can stop them this Christmas, but maybe the undertakers will prevent them from doing the same in Christmas 2021.”

“On Friday night I had the misfortune of attending the A&E department at New Cross Hospital, Wolverhampton. From 11pm until 11.45pm, I was the only person there.”

“I recently had to attend a benevolent fund-raising event for retired police officers, otherwise known as a speed-awareness course.”

“York? It's a poor man's Lichfield.”

“Pansexual? I thought that meant someone like me who loves a fry-up.”

“Was I wrong to believe that Scotch eggs were laid on the bonny banks and braes by wild haggis?”

“What a wonderful thing it is to be able to lean out of the window and pluck figs. Although you do have to be careful how you say it.”

“I’m sure that when all this is declared over there will be a national service at Westminster Abbey, thanking God for saving us. Will that be the same God that sought fit to inflict on us this visitation of a new plague in the first place?”

Why, when a venue is full, is it said to be rammed? Whatever happened to crammed? Or for that matter, jammed? And why do they all rhyme?”

“With no claims, no changes in my policy and no explanation, my car-insurance premium shot up by 41 per cent.”

“I'm infuriated by three commercials: the Volvo driver who reverses out onto a busy road, the arrogant sister who tells her obviously-caring brother to get out of her room and the idiot father who asks his incredibly cool daughter to give him the pound coin she retrieved from the trolley.”

“A relative of mine was accused recently by a bank cashier of spreading Covid-19 by coming into the bank to conduct a payment. Is this the future for non-technical customers?”

“My new country coat contains something called a Napoleon pocket. It's excellent for keeping a hand warm, but isn't it cultural appropriation?”

“The Happy Two-Year-Old birthday card I bought for my great-grandson is marked 'unsuitable for under-threes'.”

“The pubs reopen. From now on the Fourth of July should be known as Inn Dependents' Day.”

“My local pool is ready to comply with social distancing by having no water in lanes one, three and five.”

“Ah, the joy of motoring in lockdown times. My car is now doing three weeks to the gallon.”

“The town of Shrewsbury encapsulates the British class system in one place-name. The rich say 'Shrowsbury,' the middle class say it as it looks, 'Shrewsbury' and the common folk say 'Shoesbury'.”

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