●EVERY now and again, I type my name into a search engine to check if anyone has been using my efforts without permission.

It happens from time to time, not that I ever do anything about it. Perhaps I should be flattered.

The other day, I came across something that really made my eyebrows head north. There I was, on the Warwickshire Web, described as ‘reading and writing imperfectly’. I was also labelled as an ‘incorrigible rogue’ and had been sentenced to nine months in jail with hard labour.

Then I looked a little closer and saw that the date was Easter, 1838, the place Warwick Quarter Sessions. It was, of course, another John Phillpott.

I should have known… ●A FEW days away found me visiting a number of stately homes and gardens.

None of this would have been possible had the First World War not broken out in 1914. For this conflict not only managed to wipe out much of the labouring class that kept these grand places going but also brought about the greatest cull of the aristocracy since the Wars of the Roses.

As I threaded my way through the woodland in one of these majestic spreads, my eye caught a health and safety notice warning people to be aware of the threat posed by… trees. Apparently, twigs and even branches can break off at any time, putting passers-by in mortal danger.

No wonder labourer and toff alike flocked to the Western Front in droves in order to avoid such perils.

●I RECKON that a lot of the appalling behaviour on our streets is down to chemical additives in food.

When my kids were small, the treatment for a night-time headache was a certain bananaflavoured potion that we later discovered was heaving with e-numbers. That irksome 3am pain would certainly go in a trice, only to be replaced by a superhyper child wanting to play and be read stories.

These days, we call badlybehaved children ‘special needs’ when the truth is that they’re just obnoxious brats out of their skulls on stimulants. Do you know, I could so easily have been a doctor.