Heavenly pursuits

SOME folk believe that social media is a breeding ground for hot air, fury, venom and lies.

The Diary disagrees, and we now have verifiable evidence that it is in fact a safe space for contemplating theological matters.

Perusing X (formerly Twitter) we alighted on this gem from Glasgow actor Darren Connell, who muses philosophically: “A genuine question. If a nun wanted a chippy, how would they pay for it if they don’t get a wage from the church?”

(Next week’s theological puzzler on social media: “Are those plush clouds that angels sprawl on in heaven as comfy as a Barcalounger?”)

Flagging fortunes

A SPORTING yarn.

Reader Jim Scott has a friend who, many years ago, was on the waiting list to join Lindrick Golf Club.

After a long period of time he called the club secretary and was informed that he now topped the list, so would be the next person offered membership when a place became available.

Like many golf clubs, Lindrick flies the clubhouse flag at half mast when a member dies.

One day Jim’s pal, passing the club, noticed the flag was in this position.

Immediately phoning the club secretary, he eagerly inquired if he was now a member.

 “I don’t think so sir,” said the secretary, “as the Queen Mum wasn’t known to be a member of Lindrick Golf Club.”

 

Burn by babble

KEEP-FIT fanatic Mary Williams gets in touch to tell us: “It would be much healthier if everybody spoke using sign language instead of talking with our mouths. We’d certainly burn loads more calories.”

 

Mistaken identity  

EARLIER this week reader Anne James was in a Glasgow restaurant, lunching with a chum.

As the meal was just about demolished, the waitress arrived to clear up.

Anne hadn’t quite finished her fizzy drink, so she rapidly gulped it down, allowing the waitress to take the empty glass.

While watching her swig, the impressed serving lady said: “The way yer downin’ that Irn-Bru, ye must huv mistaken it fer Buckfast.”

 

I spy

THE Herald recently reported on the Cruachan power station, otherwise known as the Hollow Mountain.

Hugh Steele from Cumbernauld enjoyed the article overall, though admits to being a tad disappointed.

Says Hugh: “I thought the boss of such a project would be a man in a swivel chair with a white fluffy cat on his lap, expecting Mr Bond...”

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Scran plan

SOMETHING to chew on from reader Bob Wright, who points out: “Planning meals in advance is food forethought.”