Peter Rhodes on censoring kids' books and how a tiny fault can doom a car and more

I have been helping a pal with the grisly business of scrapping a car. In ye olden days of blessed memory, there was no mistaking a car due for scrappage. The wheel arches were rusting, the paint was blistered, the suspension rods were poking through the bodywork and from beneath the wretched vehicle dripped oil and rusty water. Every component of the car screamed in unison: “Scrap me!”

Not any longer. Today, the bodywork lasts for ever and the paint doesn't even fade. All it takes for the car to become scrap is the failure of one expensive part – in my friend's case, the differential. And because replacing the diff would cost more than the vehicle is worth, a near-perfect car with a showroom finish, pristine upholstery, perfect engine, unmarked alloys and dozens of sensors, is off to the breaker's yard and the irresistible embrace of the crusher. What a waste. What a shame.