THE big talking point at the BBC's Pacific Quay headquarters in Glasgow?
Not Mike Ashley's Rangers buy-in, nor the medal-chasing at the Olympics, but the identity of the person who left a fillet of haddock behind a bank of rather warm computers on the newsroom's planning desk. The gently rotting offering was eventually located and removed after lengthy investigations into the source of the smell. But our man inside said that staff are still complaining that the area is "minging". Apologies if you're reading this over breakfast.
SOME Olympics sports, clearly, are more popular than others. Michael Bruce, slightly shellshocked after sitting through the dressage event, gets in touch. "I was glued to the telly," he says. "That's the only way they could make me watch it."
For good measure, Michael adds that "apparently it can take six or seven years for the horse to teach its rider to look that silly".
firefighter stories remind David Martin of a fire at the famed Glasgow gay nightspot Bennets in 2004. Thirty firefighters were involved in the call-out ... assisted by 12 New York City policemen, 11 bikers, a native American and four construction workers.
Show must go on
OUR bloke at the Fringe says comedian Barry Ferns is doing a free gig at the top of Arthur's Seat each day at 1pm. On day one the weather was brilliant and 60 people joined him at the summit. But it was a different story when the weather changed – to the point where, on one occasion, only one brave soul endured the trek up with him in lashing wind and rain. To make matters more interesting, that single audience member was a reviewer.
Business is taking off
DONALD Macdonald was in Tiree last weekend – a place, he says, where the geese population has taken off. There's a firm that goes about chasing the geese off the crofts. The name on the side of the van? Goosebusters.
Name blame game
STILL the nicknames flood past the Diary's firewall. Robert Hayes volunteers a handful of nicknames from his time in the police service. IQO (as in IQ-oh) was a less than intelligent female officer. The Torch never went out. The Claw was the alias of a certain officer whose methods of persuasion involved a uniquely painful wrist hold. And Chunky was one of the famous Mars Bar-eating, slightly rounded constabulary of the 1980s.
Talk of the town
MIKE Shand, meantime, recalls a supervisor at NCR in Dundee, a nervous type who was given to walking around with his hands thrust deep into his pockets.
He was known to all as Altrincham. "Naively," says Mark, "I took it to be his name, or at least where he came from, until one of the lassies on the line explained that he was called that because 'he keeps altering 'em from side to side'.
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