Up here in the north-east we live in caves but often pop out to steal pasties – hot or cold, we're just not fussy (Pasty row hots up for David Cameron, 29 March) – before we go back to spend our bloated public sector pensions on fags, beer and devil worship. I wasn't expecting to answer questions about this, but, you know, only a few years ago, I enjoyed some venison and a spot of caviar while at a station. It was from the Surrey Bullingdon Gentlefolk company, I think, when I was in Godalming. No, hang on, it was probably Guildford: you know, one of those places in the south. They're all the same really, aren't they? Especially when they confusingly start with the same letter. But must move on. Got to top up the tank before it's too late!
Dr John Fenwick
Whitley Bay, North Tyneside
• Perhaps Cameron was really eating his pasty when he met the black voter in Plymouth in 2010 (Report, 16 April 2010).
Dr Gerard Jones
Fleet, Hampshire
• One can only imagine the Tories' chorus of disapproval if Brussels had defined when a pasty was hot, warm or cold.
John Howard
Ipplepen, Devon
• There's nothing wrong with a cold pasty if it's well enough made: "There, on a slope of orchard, Francis laid, / A damask napkin wrought with horse and hound, / Brought out a dusky loaf that smelt of home, / And, half-cut-down, a pasty costly-made, / Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay, / Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks / Imbedded and injellied;" (Audley Court by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1842). Could there be anything more delicious than that?
Adam Nicolson
Sissinghurst, Kent