Rolling on

Our tale about the Diary’s old gastronomic favourite, the hot pie on a roll, reminded Hyndland reader Maurice Frize of a lunchtime delicacy from his secondary schooldays in late Sixties Dumbarton: the half V and crisps. “The V,” he explains, “was a Vienna loaf, which was like a shorter and fatter version of a baguette. This had the dough removed from the centre and replaced with crisps.” Crisps? That’s a kind of salad, right? Reader Moira Love recalls something similar, only with chips. Gosh, this Diary work sure makes you kinda hungry.

In vino label veritas

Actually, Diary work fair makes you work up a thirst too. Our picture yesterday of poopy vino prompts Paisley reader Ian McLaren to recall seeing a bottle in Haarlem, Netherlands, bearing the label: “Just F*****g Good Wine.” He’s sent a photie to prove it but we couldn’t possibly reproduce such a thing in the Diary, which is a favourite read among children everywhere (er, see today’s photo). While we’re still on the drink, Douglas Mars of Kelvinside sends evidence of a chilling pub advertising board in Bergamo, Italyshire, which reads: “We have beer as cold as your ex-girlfriend’s heart.” Brrr!

Rueful pedagogue

Actually, doing the Diary doesn’t just make you drink and stuff your face with rolls on chips. It fairly makes you swear as well. Anent our story of a PE teacher asked what he teaches, reader Hugh McKean recalls a relative’s GP friend who had a teacher in his surgery complaining of stress at work. “After the consultation was over, he asked the teacher as he was leaving, ‘What do you teach?’ The answer was instant: ‘Bas****s.’” Right, I’m off down to stores for more asterisks.

Brexit licked

Poor old Royal Mail. Its new series of stamps featuring Dad’s Army has been hijacked by political campaigners, who find the characters’ catchphrases apposite of Brexit: “Don’t panic! Don’t panic” (Lance-Corporal Jones); “Do you think that’s wise, sir?” (Sergeant Wilson); “It won’t cost you much …” (Private Walker); “Do you think I might be excused?” (Private Godfrey); and, of course, “We’re doomed. Doomed!” (Private Frazer). The Diary takes no interest in current affairs (careers officer to young Diary: “Journalism – that’s the job for you!”), and so has no view on Brexit or anything else. But we can imagine someone at Royal Mail saying, in the immortal words of Captain Mainwaring: “I wondered who would be the first to spot that.”

One to speak

More politics, and Commons Speaker John Bercow has found himself unpopular with many Scottish MPs following the recent shenanigans over the Europe (Getting Oot Of) Bill. However, the Diary has long enjoyed the wee man’s put-downs, such as when he told one MP: “And as for you, Mr Lucas, I’ve told you you need to go on some sort of therapeutic training course if you’re to attain the level of statesmanship to which you aspire.” Ouchy!

No change there

Fresh from finding the new pick-up facility at Glasgow Airport confusing enough, reader Fergus Neil’s day just got worse when he went to a change machine at the NCP car park only to find above the word “Change” a sticker saying, “Sorry, we can’t give change”. Well, glad we cleared that one up.

Ken Smith is away.