Peter Rhodes on sex after 60, words on gravestones and Blair's four-letter problem

I referred last week to the way some cancer charities suggest the battle against the Big C is almost over. If only. Standard Life, supporting Cancer Research UK's “Race for Life,” boasts in its advert: “We're helping cancer prepare for retirement.” I suspect cancer, still claiming 170,000 British lives every year, has no intention of putting on its slippers just yet.

In a feature on sex after 60, the writer and comedian Rowan Pelling likens older lovemaking to driving a vintage Bentley: “It takes longer to crank up but once going, you're the envy of everyone on the road.” Call me a prude but is “on the road” the correct place to be?

A reader says she's surprised I didn't make a connection between my surname and the inferno on the Greek island of Rhodes. Yes, I was tempted by a Sky headline which could be construed as a glowing compliment: “Why is Rhodes on fire?” But there's a golden rule of journalism that says the moment you try to get a laugh out of a crisis, people start dying and your clever gag becomes deeply inappropriate. A few hours after I decided to spike my little joke, that's what happened.

Tony Blair, pontificating on climate change and Brexit, is said to be desperate to get back into UK politics. Sadly for him, he is handicapped by a four-letter word that no-one forgets. In this respect he reminds me of the Earl of Oxford who famously bowed deeply to Queen Elizabeth the First and broke wind loudly. Overcome with shame he fled the court and spent seven years away. On his return the Queen greeted him with: “My Lord, I had forgot the fart.”

Tone's four-letter word that we can't forget? Iraq.

In some versions of this column I recently referred to the author of the book This Is Going to Hurt as Adam Smith. He is, of course, Adam Kay. Adam Smith was an 18th century Scottish economist and philosopher. Adam Kay is a 21st century English doctor and comedian. Easy mistake.

On his deathbed, Adam Smith, a towering influence and the father of modern economics, expressed disappointment that he hadn't achieved more. He's not alone. If gravestones were more honest, most would be inscribed: “Hang on, I haven't finished yet.”