Hints and tips for the festive season. Or not.

The Editor's email inbox has been regularly assaulted of late by messages from a Mr J Sainsbury inviting her to submit her best Christmas tip to his website in the faint hopes that she might win large numbers of something called "Nectar Points".

Needless to say, all such emails have been swiftly consigned to the recycling bin. Even had the Editor been tempted to respond, she was doubtful that, "Hide under the duvet until Christmas is well and truly over" would have been in the running for the magnificent prize.

However, other Sainsbury's customers have responded in their droves. The results make fascinating, if not particularly helpful, reading.

Some respondents appear to have had considerable difficulty in distinguishing between a tip and a self-evident truth: the oft-repeated, "You can save money by buying your cards and wrapping paper in the January sales", for example, would seem to Lady Bracknell to fall firmly into the latter category. Ditto, "Putting money aside every month will mean you have more to spend at Christmas".

In these days of convenience foods, it is something of an education to realise what now passes as "home cooking". This singularly unappetising dip provides a case in point, consisting, as it does, of two pre-packaged items tipped out onto the same plate. (Presumably one can then feel entirely justified, when showered with compliments, in claiming that one has "made it from scratch".)

Lady Bracknell generally deems it best for all concerned for her not to impose her irascible company on any persons of whom she is fond on Christmas Day. Were she ever to resile from this policy, however, she would be very disappointed indeed if her hosts were to care so little for her enjoyment as to serve her this revolting alternative to a proper vegetarian option.

Neither, were she perchance to visit during epiphany, would her heart be even remotely gladdened at the prospect of this imaginitive method of using up left over Christmas Pudding.

Whilst not holding for a moment with the modern-day fad for excessive slenderness, Lady Bracknell suspects that a very brisk constitutional indeed would be required to work off the artery-clogging effects of freshly-fried chips (french fries to her American readers) dipped into chocolate fondue. (Hard as it may be to believe, Lady Bracknell is not making this up: doubting Thomases may wish to follow this link.)

What strange lives some people lead. Particularly this person. And this one.

There is, however, the occasional nugget of gold to be found, should one search with sufficient diligence. Lady Bracknell is prepared to wager that Young Master Marmite will probably busy himself in his kitchen as soon as he sees this recipe for mushrooms.