Mystery MP

IN the run-up to last year’s General Election, the 80-year-old mother of reader Gordon Fisher was asked by her sister what she thought of the political machinations across the UK. With some vitriol she answered that she'd: "Gone right off that big teuchter!"

Gordon’s aunt asked if she meant Alistair Carmichael, the Liberal Democrat. Came the reply: "No. The big teuchter that keeps changing his mind."

When further probed as to whether the fellow in question was the SNP's Westminster leader, Ian Blackford, the old lady became rather irate and snarled: "No! That bliddy big teuchter that left the Labour Party."

At this point the penny dropped. Our reader’s mum meant that well known ship-jumper and former shadow business secretary, ‘Teuchter’ Umunna.

Lost in Translation

OUR recent run of kitchen implement tales reminds Allan Boyd from Clarkston that in the 1970s his mother dispensed with the services of the well-used family chip pan. She swapped the hard-working but rather dull little fellow for a much swankier and urbane deep fat fryer, made by the French company Tefal.

The instructions that came with this cosmopolitan cooking device had clearly been translated from the original French, though not with any precision.

They included a warning stating that if the customer failed to ensure the filter was regularly cleaned "myriads of steam will descend upon your dresser". From then on, any quantity of steam found floating in Allan’s house was always referred to as a myriad.

Bridging moan

THE Diary’s attempt to come up with a suitable name for the proposed bridge linking Scotland to Northern Ireland is proving fruitful. Clearly not anticipating the construction of anything as glorious as the Golden Gate of San Francisco fame, Dougie Jardine from Bishopbriggs suggests it should be named Brig o Doom.

Doggone it, dog gone

A RECENT tale about a fellow struggling to get to sleep at night reminds several of our readers of the insomniac, agnostic, dyslexic chap who would lie awake at nights wondering if there really was a Dog.

Train of thought

TRAVEL news just in from Glasgow comedian Christopher Macarthur-Boyd. “I find that I sit next to toilets on trains because they’re quieter,” he reveals. “Leading me to the sad conclusion that I prefer the smell of sh**e to the company of human beings.”

Soapsuds saga

FAMILY bonding exercises are to be recommended. So kudos to reader Dave Swinton, who reports that yesterday he washed the car with his son. “It didn’t end well,” says Dave. “My son wanted to know why I couldn’t wash the car with a sponge, instead.”

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