On yer bike

THE sophisticated folk of Edinburgh have always claimed that you can’t enjoy an innocent stroll in Glasgow without being confronted by a dangerous cycle path.

At least the Diary assumes they’re saying "cycle path" though perhaps it’s a similar-sounding phrase. (You never can tell with Edindonians, as we presume our friends from the East are collectively called. Or is it Edinwegians?)

Curiously enough, cycle paths have been in genuine operation in Glasgow this week, for we learn that some sort of peddle-pushing exercise is taking place in the town centre, involving vast quantities of spandex and more than a soupcon of perspiration.

The Diary does not entirely approve of this spectacle. With so many bicycles whizzing round town, there are inevitably fewer cars, resulting in less carbon monoxide, that gaseous concoction which provides Glaswegians with their one true superpower - the ability to cough, sputter and spit out gobs of luminous green phlegm at a moment’s notice.

For those who baulk at the biking brouhaha, we suggest staying at home and having a brew ha ha instead, by making yourself a nice cuppa, then chortling along with the following classic tales from our archives…


Nosey knowhow  

SHOPPING in a Glasgow south-side supermarket, a reader heard an annoyed mother growl at her son: “Stop picking your nose!”

The little fellow did not take kindly to this unrequested advice, and indignantly responded by saying: “So why did they make nostrils the same size as fingers?”


Visionary education

A WEBSITE once gave the pros and cons of various universities. The Diary was naturally drawn to a comment about St Andrews University, where an observer of student life opined: “It’s dark for ten months of the year, so they all have excellent eyesight. Like badgers.”


In a flap

THE joys of youth. A reader on a Clydebank train heard a young chap protest to his pals: “I wasn’t that drunk.”

But a pal replied: “So why did you try to get in through the cat flap when you realised you’d forgotten your key?”


Mind your language

A STIRLING reader told us that he had received the following text from his teenage son: “Sometimes I use big words I don’t fully understand in an effort to make myself sound more photosynthesis.”


Egg-stremely annoying

AN irate colleague once stormed into the Diary office, then said to us: “It’s an absolute nonsense. It’s months until Pancake Tuesday, yet the shops are already jam-packed with flour, eggs and milk.”


Economics for beginners

FROM the mouths of babes. A reader was stunned when she asked her eight-year-old son what he would like for his birthday. The youngster gave this some sober consideration, then replied: “What’s your budget?”