Creeping confusion

GLASGOW writer and performer Kirstie Swain is, like many creatives, rather excitable. “Mum just sent me a WhatsApp to tell me that ‘Dad is down at the church, stripping ivy,’ she explains, before adding in a slightly less calm tone: “Who the **** is Ivy? Get off my dad, Ivy!”

Not so acro-nimble

THE Diary has always believed that medical folk are very well rounded and astute people. Alas, we now discover there are gaping holes in their abilities, most specifically when it comes to cobbling together a truly great acronym.

Doug Maughan recently had occasion to discover that medics use an International Prostate Symptom Score, which, of course, is shortened to the rather dull I-PSS.

“Clearly it would be more appropriately called a Prostate International Symptom Score,” says Doug, who is perhaps entirely serious in his criticism. Or maybe he’s just taking the P…

Drunk on reading

A SPECIALLY themed beer called Killer Twist is being launched next month to coincide with the paperback publication of crime scribe Chris Brookmyre’s novel, Fallen Angel.

The Diary likes the idea of liquid literature, though we are a tad concerned that such a marketing concept could be taken too far. Imagine if such a ploy had been used to promote Trainspotting. Booksellers would have been punting the novel on every street corner, while yelling at the top of their voices: “Get yer free Skag In A Bag with every copy!”

In his cups

SNEAKING into his house after a night at the pub, John Plimpton made it all the way to the bedroom. Once there, he stumbled in the dark, waking his wife, who switched on the light and proceeded to give him a high wattage what for. While taking his telling, John noticed the object he had tripped over was his wife’s bra.

“Guess that’s what you call a booby trap,” he says.

Saucy sailor

OUR attempt to improve upon the French language and culture now extends into their armed forces. ReaderDavid Donaldson has a suggestion for the motto of their Navy. He believes the phrase “To the water – the hour has come!” would be suitably stirring and patriotic. In French this would, of course, be: "A l'eau - c'est l'heure!"

Which sounds very like “Allo, sailor!” if you say it fast enough. Though we’re sure our very proper reader didn’t notice that…

Psychedelic seascape

FUMBLED phrases continued. The late mother-in-law of Frank Owens of Baillieston always looked forward to her September weekend break in Blackpool, where she would gaze in awe at the "hallucinations". We guess that’s what you call a proper "trip" to the seaside.

Read more: Stevie Chalmers in action, 1966 and 1967