Peter Rhodes on bitter honey, fake diamonds and an intergalactic TV classic

I laughed like a drain a few days ago at the episode when Dick presented his adored Mary with an oversexed labrador puppy which proceeded to hump her leg feverishly. Oddly, this episode carried the viewer-warning “Contains some outdated humour” and then proceeded to prove that some of the outdated stuff is timeless.

And no, I haven't a clue where the expression “laugh like a drain” comes from. Maybe in the olden days, drains were more easily amused.

My latest Covid booster was a revelation. By now, thanks to needle technology, injections have become almost or entirely painless. But this jab, delivered by someone who looked about 14, went beyond painless. It was sensationless. I wasn't even aware that the hypodermic touched me. I mention this only because I'm aware that some folk live in mortal dread of the needle. I know, too, that phobias can be irrational and overwhelming. But if an old coward like me can step up to the plate, so can you.

King Charles the Frugal, as the Palace would like us to think of him, has let it be known that he wants a modest sort of Coronation next May. One snag in the planning is the massive Koh-i-Noor diamond in the crown Camilla was due to wear. The gem is claimed by India and its use could cause all sorts of post-colonial offence. So here's a solution. Simply remove the diamond from Queen Consort's crown, replace it with a big, sparkly, frugal replica diamond (QVC, perhaps?) and let the United Nations figure out who, after all these years, which country, family or individual has the best claim to the original Koh-i-Noor. Sorted. Now, where's my OBE?

Nature corner. The ivy bush in our garden has been humming with the buzz of a million (rough estimate) honey bees. Although bees love the tiny ivy flowers at this time of year, you'll rarely find ivy honey on sale. It is apparently an acquired taste with bitter, medicinal hints. And perhaps just the faintest whiff of graveyard?