SADLY fruit is still a foreign land to many Scots.
Dominic Gribben in Ardrossan tells us: "At the supermarket checkout I was served by a young man who looked at the yellow fruit I had bought, then at the list of fruits on his screen, and asked: "Ur they lemons?"
"No," I replied, "they're grapefruit."
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The chap looked puzzled before replying: "Naw, they're the wee green yins."
In the alphabet soup
THANK you to the many readers who sent school belting stories – we just couldn't use them all. So to end, Alan Barlow in Paisley says: "Our English teacher used to belt the class in alphabetical order for failing to learn poetry. My first place was finally taken when a boy called Anderson joined the class. As he was a six-footer with a build to match he took the sting out of the punishment for the rest of us.
"There was an obvious disadvantage in having the initials AB in class situations, and I used to insist that my real surname was Zimmerman – which now describes me perfectly."
A fare shout?
THE chap in the Glasgow pub the other night told his pals: "I was down the Jobcentre where the woman behind the counter berated me, saying: 'You're always late, you ignore the queue of people, and you are rude to everyone.'
"She then asked if I'd ever thought of becoming a bus driver."
POLITICS, and a reader phones to tell us: "Disgraced MP Chris Huhne says he wishes he could turn the clock back. Just how many motoring offences does he want to be found guilty of?"
Wait for it ...
OUR story of waiters and their names reminds Andrew Haddow of the time he was dining with his brother and his brother's then girlfriend when the waiter came over and announced: "Hi, I'll be your waiter today, and I'm Randy."
Says Andrew: "My brother and I didn't dare look at each other for some time."
Does that ring any bells?
CHINESE New Year on Sunday, which reminds us of the Chinese gentlemen many years ago trying to hail a taxi on Woodlands Road, at Chinese New Year, encumbered with a carry-out and two crates of oranges. A passer-by showed impressive knowledge of chronology for a February night by telling them: "Aye it's murder trying to get a taxi in Glasgow at New Year."
Lapin it up
TALES of butchers with a sense of humour, continued. Colin Hood recalls the classic: "Back in the 1970s, with Watership Down at the cinema, I walked past a butcher's shop on Maryhill Road with the sign above a row of skinned rabbits, 'You've read the book, you've seen the film, now eat the cast.'"