Kiss off

WITH calamity of the coughing kind spreading fast, we’re considering changing our name from The Diary to A Journal of the Plague Year. If only that dastardly Daniel Defoe hadn’t come up with the title first.

Meanwhile, the latest advice for thwarting the coronavirus is to wash your hands for the amount of time it takes to sing Happy Birthday twice. (No encores required.)

George Dale, eager to save the world, has come up with another ditty, sung to the same tune, to be used as an aide-memoire on greeting people. Take it away, George…

"So nice to meet you, so nice to meet you, don't touch me or kiss me, so nice to meet you."

Hmmm. Memorable song. Though we don’t quite see it going viral.

Below parr

OUR recent fishing yarn reminds Margaret Forbes that she once lived in a house with a trout stream running through the garden. At the time Margaret had adopted a cat named Ben. This moggie was a stray who had been dumped in the village, though his suave and urbane manner made it clear he was originally a gadabout gent from the Big Smoke. Being a city slicker, Ben had little time for the countrified pursuit of hunting, and left the local mice well alone.

Then, one surprising day, Margaret discovered him in the garden with a trout at his feet, obviously guddled from the stream. Regrettably the ace fisher-feline didn’t have a clue what to do with his trophy.

As the fish was still alive, Margaret tossed it back in the stream, where it promptly swam away, no doubt thinking to itself: never trust those big city types.

Taking the P

WE continue with our run of medical acronyms. A man of the healing profession tells us life was colourful working in A&E. When passing on details relating to those who attended hospital on a suspiciously regular basis, a frequently-used acronym was PFO, which stood for “Pissed, fell over.”

Swiss role

RETURNING from Switzerland, Mike Martin says he’s not sure he liked the place. “Although the flag’s a big plus,” he adds.

Name blame game

MORE from our Journal of the Plague Year. (Yeah, yeah. We know Dan Defoe got there first. Though on further consideration we’ve decided he’s been dead a few hundred years, so it’s unlikely he’ll sue us for nicking his brand.)

Anyway, we hear that Limmy is furious about the current spread of disease. And with good reason. “You got me to call a Marathon a Snickers,” says the TV funny man. “You got me to call a packet of Opal Fruits a packet of Starburst.

“But no way are you getting me to call the coronavirus COVID f***ing 19.”

Due credit

ACCORDING to reader Jake Beecham his bank is really proud of him. “I’ve just been told I have an outstanding balance,” he says.

Read more: Herald Diary: Caught out in the bedroom