Huffy Hulk

STRANGE entities have been glimpsed in a Glasgow city centre store. A plague of cut-out images of Danny DeVito’s face, the size of coffee coasters, have been glued to a variety of surfaces in A1 Toys. The Diary is reliably informed that a departing member of staff left the enigmatic icons. The reason she did so, and why she chose Danny DeVito’s fizog, remains a mystery. However, even now, long after her final farewell, fresh DeVitos are discovered daily. “We’ve found them on walls, under shelves and behind the till,” an A1 employee reveals. “We’ve also got a life-size statue of the Hulk in the shop. DeVito was lurking behind that, too.” At least that helps solve the puzzle of why the Hulk’s angry all the time. Everyone knows Danny DeVito is his least favourite Hollywood star.

Boyle’s Law

COMEDIAN Frankie Boyle has sound career advice for the Still Game lads, now their Hydro run’s over. Does he think Greg Hemphill and Ford Kiernan should head to Hollywood and pitch a blockbuster flick with Jack and Vic battling a new barman at the Clansman, later unmasked as the Joker? Nothing so thrilling. Frankie tells the lads: “Time for a new artistic phase of drinking cocktails on a boat.” With the Hydro money rolling in, Greg and Ford will certainly be able to afford a few cocktails. And a few boats.

Hear, hear, for the NHS

OUR yarn about a man struggling with hearing loss reminds David Miller about a tale of a patient recently fitted with NHS hearing aids. Studying the ear plugs, a pal of this fellow said admiringly: “You’ll never hear a bad word about the NHS now.”

Plain speaking

A MILNGAVIE reader recalls a ding-dong in an Ayrshire post office, where a woman was being rude to the young girl attempting to serve her. When the grumpy customer at last turned to depart, still cussing to herself, a large couthie soul at the back of the frustrated queue stopped her and said: “A wee word. You’re as well bein’ civil lassie… cause you’re nae braw!”

Touchy feely

COMFORT can be found in the most unexpected places. John Almond from Renfrew noticed his 13-year-old son, in moments of repose or quiet contemplation, was apt to clasp a certain part of his own anatomy situated south of his bellybutton. John informed the lad it wasn’t seemly, touching himself in this manner. To which the youngster replied: “It makes me calm down, though. It’s just like one of those stress toys.”

No monkeying around

BREAK-UP news of an imminent kind from reader, Tom Norton. “My wife kept saying she’d dump me if I didn’t stop quoting songs by the Monkees,” he tells us. “At first I thought she was kidding. But then I saw her face…”

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