Peter Rhodes on a seasonal travesty, a musical resolution and the man who could make Labour formidable

Our changing language. Politicians who deliberately exaggerate their working-class credentials are prolier-than-thou.

And talking of politics, can we all agree that 2020 would be a huge improvement on 2019 if we had less politics? Let us return to the days when Prime Minister's Questions was a rather dull half-hour that we all agreed was A Good Thing for Democracy but none of us could be bothered to watch.

And let 2019 slip into history as an aberration, a shouty, snarly and rather un-English 12 months when the North turned blue and, for the first time in history, the proletariat saved us from the Bolsheviks.

And who is the man to restore Labour to power and influence? From this column December 3, 2015: “One of the outstanding moments of the Commons debate on whether to bomb Syria was the short, straightforward speech by Dan Jarvis, reminding us that this plain-speaking 43-year-old ex-soldier would make a formidable Labour Party leader.” The question is whether Labour wants to be formidable or feeble.

The much-discussed BBC adaptation of A Christmas Carol was a travesty but still worth watching. Dickens's 1843 London was turned into a multi-cultural capital. Bob Cratchit (Joe Alwyn) was head of a mixed-race family and the hero of the hour was his witchcraft-practising wife (Vinette Robinson), prepared to prostitute herself to Scrooge (Guy Pearce) for the money to save Tiny Tim. Scrooge, too, was a victim, haunted by a nightmare childhood in which his father pimped him to a paedophile headmaster. As an exercise in right-on woke box-ticking it was almost perfect although regrettably it had nothing to say about Islamophobia, plastic pollution or climate change and there were no cross-dressing sub-plots. Maybe next year.

And yet it was undeniably good with moments of great pathos and scariness. But how can you reconcile Dickens's masterpiece to a drama which simply ignores the boundless yule-enthusiasm of Scrooge's nephew, the excitement of the poor-but-happy Cratchit family or the howling remorse of Marley's ghost? The answer is that you cannot. This adaptation was a fine piece of work. But it was not, and never will be, A Christmas Carol.

New Year's Resolution? Promise yourself to play a musical instrument. Then buy a ukulele. If you're not Cleaning Windows or Leaning on a Lamp Post by August, you'll have only yourself to blame.

Of all the strange, sincere, sentimental and sickly wishes on my greetings cards, the oddest was the one that declared: “Thank you so much for being you.” Awfully kind but to be frank I had no choice in the matter.

The card reminded me of The Goons' old line. When asked: “How do you find yourself today?” the response is: “I just threw back the sheets and there I was.”