Stealing away

OUR politicians continue to exhibit the exalted levels of dignity and decorum previously only displayed by kebab shop patrons after the pubs shut. But, as any ageing punk will testify, anarchy in the UK isn’t new. Today’s Diary yarns hark back to those times when order broke down and chaos reigned. We recall the Renfrewshire rogue who sauntered into a supermarket, then sashayed out with a spiffy new DVD player. (Declining to visit the check-out, rather incriminatingly.) His daring gambit would have succeeded if it wasn’t for the fact he returned the following day, huffing that his ‘purchase’ didn’t include a remote control.

Knife strife

THEN there was the din-din drama, when tensions simmered (gas mark 5) just below the surface. A chap in an Italian restaurant ordered steak. The waiter replaced the knife in front of him with a fearsome-looking steak knife, gnarly as any implement used to wage war in Game of Thrones. The diner, attempting some harmless banter, said: “So, are the steaks tough in here?” To which the Italian server replied: “Not as tough as the waiters,” before gliding away.

Doing shots

A GLASGOW taxi driver once told us he was flagged down outside the Royal Infirmary by a young man in a smart suit drinking a bottle of Budweiser and carrying a rifle in his other hand. The startled cabbie rolled down his window and barked: “You can’t bring that in here.” The lad responded: “I know. I’ll finish it before I get in,” and promptly drained the bottle of Bud.

Postal disorder

A HOLIDAYMAKER was loafing in a bar in southern Spain when he got into conversation with a London chap, who revealed he was now permanently based in the land of sun and sangria. “So was it your job that brought you here?” enquired the holidaymaker. “Two jobs, actually,” came the reply. “One was a bank, the other was a post office.”

Starter for 10

KIDS, of course, become acquainted with rebellion before taking notice of the other Three Rs. There was one pugnacious pupil, we recall, who was equally dismissive of religious education. (He didn’t stand a prayer of passing the subject.) His exasperated teacher once ordered him to stand up and tell the class the Ten Commandments. The pupil hesitated, so, to encourage him, the teacher said: “In any order you like.” The perspiring pupil finally stammered: “Eight, six, ten, one, four, nine, five, two, seven, three.”

Scooby to-do

IT would be remiss not to include at least one epic battle between Scots and English, though this tale was gleaned from a reader, not a tattered history textbook. A structural engineer from south of the Border, newly arrived in Glasgow, was struggling to persuade local workmen to remove material from a site. After ranting at length to the foreman, he concluded by demanding to know when, precisely, the material would be shifted. The bored foreman answered: “Ah’ve no’ got a scooby, pal.” To which the exasperated chap from England pleaded: “Well, go get one. Hire a Scooby if you have to. Just get this stuff removed.”

Anarchy malarkey

WE end with the musings of a reader, who once asked: “Do anarchists attend organised political rallies? And, if so, does that mean they’ve already betrayed their ideals?”