THE weekend’s coverage of the difficulties of Lord Sewel of Gilcomstoun prompts one anonymous Edinburgh reader to tell us: “It appears that there's no fool like an old Sewel.” Someone else comments, punningly: “Time, surely, for a new version of the End of the Pier show?”

ANYONE else getting fed up with the continued non-appearance of summer? Susan Calman's patience seems to be running out. “Put the central heating on,” she tweeted the other day. “Hugging a radiator is my favourite summer activity.” We feel your pain, Susan.

LOVELY story concerning Kenneth McKellar on a recent edition of Desert Island Discs.

Conductor and composer Harry Rabinowitz recalled working with McKellar on a Eurovision Song Contest in Luxembourg in the 1960s.

The Scot’s decision to travel with his kilt occasioned a sharp debate within the BBC, the corporation’s mandarins unable to decide whether, given that this was a television show, he should appear in the kilt or not.

In the end, the kilt won.

After Kenneth’s appearance, the BBC asked other competing countries for their opinions, as was the habit in those days.

The response of the Yugoslav delegation has long remained with Harry.

They liked the song, thinking it was pretty good - “but they thought that the lady who sang it was rather butch.”

PUT-downs, more of.

Malcolm Boyd says that when he was in the Merchant Navy he heard of one Captain's report, which said: ”This Officer sets an abysmally low standard which he constantly fails to achieve.”

On coming ashore, Malcolm worked in Personnel. “I was often asked to provide references for employees, and I always said that my standard reference was: ‘If you can get this man to work for you, you would be very lucky’.”

WHILE we’re on the subject, Andew MacGregor, on the Isle of Colonsay, recalls his own two favourites:

• From the master's report on a junior ship's officer: “While under my command Mr. X has performed his duties to his own entire satisfaction"

• and a detail from an Indian Civil Service annual appraisal: "Personally, I would not breed from this officer".

BUS passes, more of.

Russell Smith says he knows a very active lady in her eighties (he adds, ‘You know who you are, cousin!’) who, when asked by the driver how she had managed to get a bus pass, replied, quick as a flash, that she had lied about her age.

AND on a possibly related note, Kenneth Morin says that he once approached a rail ticket office to buy a concessionary ticket.

By mistake he showed his driving licence rather than his concession card. The ticket lady took one look and asked him: “Yes, I can see you’re old enough to drive, but are you old enough for a concessionary fare?”