A heart-y meal

ON an evening train from Glasgow to Paisley, reader Maurice Hughes overheard the conversation between two tipsy young debutantes, who were devouring richly scented cuisine that they must have purchased in one of the many fried food emporiums near Central Station.

“See, the hing is,” said one of the debutantes, “am an emotional eater.”

“Wit’s zat, then?” enquired the other. “Does it mean ye get the nibbles when yer depressed?”

“Nah,” clarified the first debutante. “It means I start pure greetin’ every time I finish a bag o’ chips.”

Peace plus pints

WE live in fractious times, though argy-bargy can be avoided with a little forethought and consideration.

Len Green from Neilston informed his wife that he had arranged to meet a pal in a Glasgow city centre watering hole.

“Fine,” said Len’s wife, who then added, “just remember. No talking politics, no talking sport, and no gossip about mutual acquaintances.”

This advice perplexed our correspondent, who said: “So what are we meant to talk about?”

Said his wife: “Just nod, and smile occasionally, sip your pints, then make your way home.”

Conked-out computation

THOUGHT for the day from reader Tom Hartley: “Dreams are screensavers for your brain.”

Cool runnings

OBSERVANT reader Erica Davidson has noticed that many of her neighbours in Glasgow’s south side are no longer content to merely walk their dogs.

The energetic pet owners now wear tracksuits and go for a jog, while their poor, perspiring pooches struggle to keep up with the frantic pace being set.

(This is an especially desperate endeavour when the animal in question happens to be a sausage dog.) Says Erica: “It’s very thoughtless of the dog owners. If they want to go for a jog, they should instead bring along a pet goldfish.”

Our correspondent adds: “I don’t mean the goldfish should be attached to a leash, which would be ridiculous.

But the joggers could balance the goldfish’s water bowl on their heads while running.

“It’s a win-win situation. The goldfish gets some welcome variety in an otherwise predictable life, while the jogger is kept cool with all the water sloshing around on top of his head.”

Get the legendary Herald Diary straight to your inbox.

Politico pooch

MORE doggy delights. The Diary is improving the names of notable people by providing them with hound-like monikers.

Margaret Thomson suggests a Conservative canine who no longer works in the (dog) House of Commons… Mutt Hancock.

Animal tragic

DAFT gag time. “What do you call a one-legged hippo?” asks reader Jo Roberts. “A hoppo.”