Holidaying in Passignano beside Lake Trasimeno, an idyllic setting in the Umbria region of Italy, is probably one of the last places you would expect to see Victor Meldrew (Richard Wilson) - the eccentric old grouch of the BBC series, One Foot In the Grave - or anyone remotely resembling him.

But the quaint old couple from Cheltenham, with whom we shared a dining table, said I bore a strong resemblance to Meldrew. Probably because of my credible impersonation of him voicing his catch phrase: "I don't believe it!" Not said for effect at the time, but merely to express my disbelief at what the hotel's Italian chef had prepared for our evening meal.

Of course, it didn't take them long to realise that the similarity ended with my use of his catch-phrase, which, for the benefit of their amusement, I felt obliged to utter at every opportunity. And as the England v Italy soccer match, a feature of which was the outrageous conduct of the Italian police, was played while we were in Italy, there were a number of occasions when I used the phrase with unfeigned fervour.

From the start of the award-winning comedy series in 1991, which coincided with my second retirement, the show has always been a firm favourite with our family. And as I'm apt to speak my mind on occasions - a habit encouraged by my maternal grandmother, who called it "being straightforward" - our children impishly nicknamed me 'Victor'. Not minding being the occasional butt of their jokes, I went along with their ribbing, and during social gatherings would adopt a typical Meldrew pose, throw in an "I don't believe it" and carry on at length about some trivial irritation. And so, a new party-piece was added to my repertoire.

Unfortunately, there are few social gatherings in our home these days, but One Foot In The Grave has recently been repeated (the BBC never miss an opportunity to milk a successful show for all it's worth) and we enjoyed it even more the second time around.

Now, I learn, there is to be a new series later this year, which will end with poor old Victor having two feet in the grave. And, regretfully, it is extremely unlikely that we'll see him emerging from his shower a few months later, complaining about the awful dream he had last night. But the good news is that he is to be reincarnated in ITV's new comedy series, High Stakes - as a city merchant banker. I don't believe it!

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In the wake of the Macpherson report into the police handling of the Lawrence case, the Home Secretary has decided that in future inquiries into complaints against the police are to be conducted by 'civilian investigators'. This decision will end the time-honoured practice of the police policing the police and what might have seemed to some as plum jobs for senior officers, being seconded to the 'rubber-heeled' squad and away from the 'firing line'.

But from where are these civilian investigators to be found? Will it be a case of another "bobby's job", like racecourse security officer, company security adviser, MoD positive vetting interviewer, home security salesman, and lawyer's legman? Or will a new breed of impartial investigators, without police experience, be recruited and trained for this unpopular, but essential job? Essential, that is, if justice is to be done and seen to be done. Which is, after all, what everyone wants - isn't it?

With half a million Americans visiting York every year, hoteliers should be raking in the brass. Little wonder with the prices charged for one-night stays.

Although millionaires in the States are becoming a dime-a-dozen, most of our US visitors are pensioners, not computer software salesmen. So, if we want the Yanks to keep coming over here, we should give them a fair shake - not a shakedown.

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16/05/00