Peter Rhodes on sharing with cyclists, Operation Cock-Upski and a damning poll on Boris

LAST words from Rutland Water. The paths around the 3,000-acre lake are described as "shared access." Seriously, is there anywhere in the world where cyclists and pedestrians happily coexist? Walking on a track with "shared access" is like sharing a cream cake with a gorilla. You don't get as much of a share as you hoped but you're just thankful to survive the experience.

REMEMBER that feeling of superiority we Brits enjoyed a couple of years ago when the well-oiled and much-vaunted US system of democracy presented the American public with a choice between two no-hopers like Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump? We are now facing the serious prospect of the next UK General Election being contested by Boris Johnson and Jeremy Corbyn. How did we ever get to this place?

ACCORDING to a poll, an "overwhelming" 64 per cent of Brits say the endless claims of infidelity against Johnson do not make him unfit to become Prime Minister. However, 18 per cent say they do. And in an age when elections are decided on fractions of a percentage point, never ignore 18 per cent.

ONE tabloid tells how of Boris's lady friends "cavorted" on a car. This, like the word "tryst," is reserved for the upper classes. Posh totty cavorts on your car but inner-city yob jumps on it. Same criminal damage, same repair bill but it's only the poor kids wot get nicked.

WHAT sort of crazy, suspicious and vindictive world are we living in if two decent, upright members of the Salisbury Cathedral Appreciation Society (Moscow branch) cannot pop over to England to admire the cathedral's famous spire without all this nonsense about nerve-agent and murder?

MOVING on, now that the suspects have been identified and the world knows exactly which flight they took to Moscow, the Kremlin is in a corner. The two men may be in an even tighter place. For the evidence suggests these clots not only planned an assassination which depended on four British trains reaching their destination (and at the weekend, too) but also involved walking into an English street in broad daylight while looking exactly like Two Dodgy Russians. They managed to get repeatedly sighted by CCTV. They failed to kill the person they set out to kill. They ended up killing an entirely unconnected British citizen. Worst of all, they have embarrassed Comrade Putin. This was Operation Cock-Upski and I would not be surprised if they are currently residing in a Russian forest, in a shallow grave.

I SUGGESTED the little market town of Uppingham deserves its own limerick poem. From a large field ranging from the barely printable to the frankly obscene, I offer this effort from a reader which not only scans nicely but has opportunities for commercial sponsorship: "There was a young fellow from Uppingham / Loved women - he couldn't stop tupping 'em./ I asked him: "Now, Andy / Why are you so randy?" / "It's the Guinness - I really like supping 'em!"