Star is born

WE never realised the cheekiness of great Scottish comedian Chic Murray when he was out in public. Says Scott Barclay: "Your tales remind me of a night in the 1970s when I gave him a lift home after a night of refreshments. A year later in a crowded hotel lobby in Edinburgh during the height of the tourist season I spotted him crossing the foyer. He waved over to me and in a booming voice said, 'Loved your last film' and disappeared into the elevator leaving a throng of American tourists staring intently in my direction."

You need friends

AS folk still discuss the royal wedding, Kate Gray remarks: "Singer and actress Selena Gomez’s friend gave her a kidney recently and Meghan Markle’s friend set her up with a prince. I’m not saying I’m ungrateful for my friends, but I am saying that they really need to step it up."

In a flap

GOOD to see Police Scotland launching a campaign against bogus callers arriving at your doorstep. It, of course, reminds us of the classic tale of the Glasgow officer arriving at the door of an old lady in a Maryhill tenement who refused to open her door, shouting: "How do I know you're the polis?" The officer bent down so that he could show her his warrant card through the letter box. The flap opened and a pair of eyes stared out. It then rapidly closed, and the old woman yelled: "Away, ya bugger ... ye don't get polis that wee."

Crunch time

WE liked the comment of Glasgow stand-up and Strictly Come Dancing star Susan Calman who explained: "Ate a packet of crisps in between shows. Turns out Wotsits and lipgloss don't mix. Well they do mix. Into an orange, cement like substance. Well done me."

Heading south

MEETING someone famous, continued. Says retired police officer David Russell in Penicuik: "Was walking a beat in the deserted streets of Edinburgh in the 1970s, when a swanky Range Rover stopped around 4am and the well-spoken driver enquired if he was on the correct road for London. As pretty much any road south from the capital can get you to the Big Smoke eventually, and neither of us being drivers back then, we directed him down the A68 via Carter Bar, which I now know is probably the least efficient route.

"He thanked us and, as he drove off, we clocked the registration number as AMP1, cherished numbers still being a relative novelty. We quickly deduced that our man had been Princess Anne's then husband Captain Mark Phillips. Much speculation ensued as to why he was unescorted by close protection and had vacated the Palace of Holyrood House at such an ungodly hour. We concluded it was a case of, fell out with her indoors, domestic dispute."

Missing you

HAVE you been getting these increasingly desperate emails from companies about something called General Data Protection Regulation

which apparently comes into force next week? As a reader tells us: "They are beginning to come over like dumped girlfriends. If you don't reply to them after next week they'll start drunk dialling you, and posting pictures of how ‘great’ their life is without you."

Suited him

STV reporter Mike Edwards has written his autobiography, The Road Home, which is published this week, listing the scrapes and japes of covering Scotland's news stories. Mike, who also served in the Territorial Army, tells us he once had to call at the Glasgow house of a family whose son had sadly been murdered, and was invited in by the relatives for a cup of tea. Inside he was asked what rank he was, and Mike was astonished that they knew he was in the TA. It was only when they then asked if he was a Detective Constable or a DS that he realised he was mistaken for a police officer, and when he explained he was a reporter he was none too gently shown the door and ordered not to return. After this incident, Mike vowed never again to buy his suits from Slaters.