Peter Rhodes on flogging cars, mangling English and rather more than you need to know about Scotch eggs

You learn in journalism that there are some subjects so dear to their fans and so spiked with fierce opinions that they are best avoided. One is handguns. Another is steam locomotives. And another, as I have discovered, is Scotch eggs.

You may recall that the issue of whether a Scotch egg is “a substantial meal” or not is key to the lockdown closure of pubs. But where does the name come from? And how, I asked, did the application of sausage meat and breadcrumbs render an egg Scottish? Inevitably, one reader writes: “Was I wrong to believe that Scotch eggs were laid on the bonny banks and braes by wild haggis?” Yes, you were, sir.

Another reader claims that Scotch eggs have nothing to do with Scotland but were named after William J Scott & Sons, an establishment in Whitby which invented an egg-based snack that became known as Scotties. Another reader brings up the archaic word “scotch,” being a wedge or other heavy device designed to stop a vehicle rolling away. She recalled, many years ago, a Midland Red bus driver accepting a formidable wedge of her best fruit cake with: “It'll come in handy to scotch the bus.” She suggests the Scotch egg was so called because it looked so solid.

And yet another reader takes to his keyboard (shouldn't you all be out shopping and kick-starting the economy, or something?) and inquires: “What is a Scotch egg called in Scotland?”

I really don't have the faintest idea. However, I do know what a Scotch pie, that daunting confection of grey mincemeat and leathery pastry, is called in Scotland. It is called a pie.

This subject is closed. I am all Scotch-egged out, thanks. But at least I have been spared the task of writing anything about Brexit, tiers or the dangerous orange thing which, in a sane world, would have been quietly removed from the White House weeks ago. And I don't mean a Scotch egg.

I told of a pal who, in the 1970s, bought a Morris 1000 for £35, drove it to Venice on holiday and, on his return, sold it for £35. A reader writes: “A mate of mine in the late sixties was travelling from Wolverhampton down the New Birmingham Road with another mate and popped into a pub where he bought a Ford for £5.He drove a few miles, realised it was death trap,went into a pub and sold it. For £5.” I should explain that in the 1970s the terms “death trap” and “nice little runner” were interchangeable.

Our changing language. America's top infectious disease expert Dr. Anthony Fauci apologised for suggesting the UK had rushed its authorisation of Covid vaccine. So it might be said that he clarified, retracted, withdrew or corrected. Instead, BBC News, that great guardian of the English language, told us: “On Thursday he walked back the comments.” Please, bring back John Humphrys.