Judith Woods

Wrapped up against the gusting Scottish wind, a man is strolling slowly along the jagged shoreline with his lolloping puppy. Anyone passing on the road above would notice him bending over the water, pushing apart the thick brown fronds of rock weed – and then being taken aback to see the “pup” sinuously dive beneath the surface and emerge with a crab in its jaws.

Oh dear, gorgeous George, what have you gone and done? Single-cat-lady Taylor, you've lost it; not sure how you'll shake this off. Lady Gaga?

When news reached me that Peggy Woolley had passed away my first thought was: “OMG Hilda Ogden!

The author discusses his monstrous grandmother, fostering his love of writing at Rugby and the BBC’s new adaptation of Moonflower Murders

Oh dear Jamie Oliver. Not sure how you're going to bish, bash or even bosh your way out of this one.

There’s no point banning junk food from the canteen then serving up garbage in the library

Here boy! Good girl. Sit. Si-i-i-t! Right, that's your lead on. Walkies? Who's up for racist colonial walkies!

The festive spirit is all very well, but I need more specific details – like what they’re selling and what it will cost me

From the rolling hills of the Scottish Lowlands they came. From the rushing rivers of the Welsh Valleys they travelled.

Recent impropriety at some charities may leave you reconsidering your donations – but the Telegraph Christmas Charity Appeal has the answer