Reality bites

MEGHAN Markle returned to the UK this week after grumping off across the pond a few months ago. She won’t be back for long, as she and her equally huffy hubby intend to settle in Canada, or possibly Los Angeles, where we’re guessing they’ll star in their own Kardashian style fly-on-the-wall show called Throne Out The Firm.

The Diary’s an old softy when it comes to the Royals, even when they’re rogues, renegades or reality stars. Which might explain why we felt a flicker of nostalgia to see Meg back in the country.

What makes us equally nostalgic is perusing classic tales unearthed from the Diary’s vaults, which is what we’re doing today. Tales that we believe still have the tenacity to provide a titter or two. For instance, we recall the deeply spiritual reader who once enquired: Where do the sick people of Lourdes go?

Getting the message

A CARD shop assistant noticed a chap lingering at the anniversary cards for a long time. She finally asked if there was a problem. “Yes,” replied the man mournfully. “I can’t find one my wife will believe.”

Clubbed to death

WE recall the perhaps apocryphal tale of the Ayrshire golfer playing a round with his wife. He drove his ball into a wooden shelter at the sixth hole. He was about to take a penalty drop when his wife pointed out that two of the planks of wood were missing, providing a slim but tempting chance of pitching to the green, which was visible through the aperture. He attempted the shot. Unfortunately, he missed the gap and the ball rebounded fiercely, hitting his dear wife on the forehead, and killing her stone dead. Six weeks later, having overcome the grief, he was playing the same course with a friend. His drive at the sixth ended up in the same wooden shelter. He declared that he would be taking a penalty drop shot. His partner pointed out that there were two planks missing and he could possibly chip through. “Oh, no,” he said. “I tried that before and it was a disaster.”

“What happened?” asked his friend.

“I scored a nine,” said the Ayrshire golfer.

Birthday bamboozlement

A YOUNG girl, needing help with a school essay, asks: “Mummy, how did I get here?” Her mother, flustered, falls back on the reliable story.

“Oh, I see,” says the little girl, “and what about you?” The mother assures her that the stork had brought her to Granny as well, a long time ago.

The little girl decides to seek a second opinion and goes off to find her grandmother in the next room. “Granny, how did you get here?”

This time, the grandmother tells her that she fell out a gooseberry bush and her mother had just picked her up while out walking one morning.

The little girl shrugs, sits down at her desk and writes: “As far as I can make out, there hasn’t been a natural birth in my family for three generations…”

Musical interlude

PARENTS can be cruel. A father once returned home after a hard day’s work and was less than sympathetic when his young son started violin practice while the family dog howled along. “For goodness’ sake,” snapped the father, “can’t you play something the dog doesn’t know?”

The long goodbye

A FINAL philosophical thought. Why is abbreviation such a long word?