IF YOU saw a drunk man on the loose with a loaded gun, what would you do? I guess it would be a case of just how quickly you could dial 999. But if that drunk man didn't have a gun but was about to get behind the wheel of a car, then what?

Thames Valley Police are offering a £500 tip off fee to anyone who snitches on a drink driver. The only surprise is that anyone should need £500 to turn them into good citizens.

A car is a lethal weapon. It can do as much damage, cause as much carnage as a gun. And that's when the driver is sober... Add a good measure of brain-befuddling booze and tragedy is a lot more likely.

But there still lingers the last remnants of the old dinosaur attitude that drinking isn't that dangerous, really. I mean what's a few pints or a couple of whiskies?

Well, actually, it could be the difference between stopping your car just before a small child - or just after her. Think about it. Just a second or so delay in reactions can literally be a matter of life and death.

After falling steadily for many years, deaths from drink-driving are creeping up again. Last year 520 people died in drink-driving accidents - eight times as many Britons who died in the World Trade Centre - which is an awful lot of empty chairs round the Christmas table.

The young and stupid will always ignore the rules and any thought of others, of course. But some of the worst offenders are middle-aged men who've got away with drink-driving for 30-odd years and are stupid enough to think they will always get away with it. Some even say that a few drinks actually sharpens their senses - which just shows how stupid they are.

It's not a question of one of your mates getting away with it again - what a joke, eh? - but the possibility of someone being killed or crippled. Possibly you, your wife, your child.

A drunk behind the wheel of a car is as dangerous as a drunk with a gun. Don't wait to be tempted by the £500 - turn them in now.

And more people will have their families still with them at Christmas.

APOLOGIES to singers, musicians and audience at Durham Choral Society's performance of the Messiah on Friday night.

There's always one, isn't there? - and on Friday it was me. Oh the embarrassment of it. Every year, husband and I say we',re going to hear The Messiah. Every year we never get round to it. Finally, after 25 years of dithering on, we made it. And very good it was too. But... we were over an hour into the performance, legs getting a bit cramped, bums getting a bit numb but nothing too serious. Then suddenly everything in my head started to go fuzzy round the edges.

"Lift up your heads!" sang the chorus. Too late for me. I had my head down and was slumping in a heap across husband. "The King of Glory shall come in!" Maybe, but by then I had passed out, rather ingloriously...

Everyone around me was wonderful in that very British way of not making too much fuss. As the singers continued to sing, people fanned me with programmes, took my pulse, fetched me water, pinched my cheek.

One of the more bizarre experiences of my life must be regaining consciousness in the middle of The Messiah in Durham Cathedral with a complete stranger pinching my cheek. But thanks to everyone's ministrations, I re-joined the world and stayed for the rest of the performance, but sitting on the end of a pew, behind a pillar, where I could make a bid for fresh air if need be and not make a nuisance of myself.

Thanks to all for their kindness and concern, especially a verger called Neil and a concert steward whose name I didn't get, but who got me the second glass of water, and special apologies to all those around me who must have spent the last part of the performance unable to relax in case I went and did it again.

Fine now, thank you, just feeling a bit of a banana about it all.

I think it might be another 25 years before we go to The Messiah again

ELTON John has announced that he is not to make any more recordings. As Sir Cliff Richard, 61, is about to ruin our Christmas with Somewhere Over the Rainbow, almost as nauseating as his Millennium Prayer, couldn't someone persuade him to follow Elton's example. Please?

WELL, I'm with the Blairs on this one. Young Euan, 17, needed some facts and figures to prepare for a school debate. He asked his mother for help. She asked a Downing Street official. He asked the Ministry of Defence. And finally, a bit like the butter for the Royal slice of bread, a Whitehall civil servant came up with the answers.

A bit extreme, possibly, especially when one assumes the MoD has rather bigger fish to fry at the moment. But there again, I think it's a bit pot and kettleish for journalists to get on their high horses about it all.

Through newspaper libraries and contacts, journalists have access to all sorts of helpful information and cuttings, even expert advice that we can call on in an instant. And I know my sons have made use of it for different projects and course-work and I bet most other journalists' children have too, so let's not be so priggish about it.

Anyway, the crux of the matter is not what information Euan received, but what he did with it once he got it.

If he's like most 17-year-olds, he'd have probably dropped it on his desk, along with his dirty socks, a few CDs, coffee mugs and the sports pages -and then forgotten all about it.

A name for fame

SO Delia's made it into the dictionary on her Christian name alone. Do you think she would have done so if she'd been called something more ordinary, Gladys or Barbara or even Sharon? What foresight her parents must have had.

Published: Wednesday, December 5, 2001