Rocker’s bum note

IT isn’t often the Diary finds itself pitying multimillionaire rock stars, though we do feel sorry for Queen guitarist Brian May, who has torn his buttock muscles in a freak gardening accident. Like Brian, our contributors often find themselves with a bum deal in life. Though instead of getting depressed, they manage to see the amusing side in even the weirdest of situations. Today we look back at some of the best of those painfully funny moments, such as the man who was tottering home just before dawn with booze on his breath and lipstick on his collar. His naturally angry wife greeted him with: “I assume there’s a good reason for you to come waltzing in here at six o’clock in the morning?” To which he replied: “There is. Breakfast.”

Unholy hole

A DYING golf club member’s last request was that his ashes be spread on the eighteenth green. The club captain, charged with carrying out the request, did a less than perfect job. He simply upended the urn, leaving Old Tam’s remains in a rather large pile on the green, hoping that the breeze would disperse them. Returning to the clubhouse, he glanced back to see a ball had landed on Old Tam’s ashes. The player duly lifted his ball, licked it clean, placed it clear of the obstruction and carried on putting.

Who’s soiree now?

THE late, great folk singer Hamish Imlach believed he had an allergy to leather because every time he woke up in bed with his shoes on he had a terrible headache. One of our readers recalled his days as a Round Tabler when he suffered from a similar affliction. As he donned his dinner jacket before departing for a soiree, he was asked by his three-year-old daughter: “Daddy, why do you wear that jacket? You know it always makes you sick.”

Tart retort

WE recall the youngster who had not quite grasped the basics of playground debating skills or even a command of elementary swearing. He disagreed with a member of his peer group who, he claimed, was “talking quiche”.


SOME confusion still exists about elements of fine dining in Glasgow’s swankier restaurants. A would-be bon viveur, informed by the waitress in a Merchant City eatery that the evening’s special was “A fillet of coley on a bed of…” broke in incredulously: “You’ve filleted a dug?”

Colourful confab

WHEN Terry Cassidy was Celtic’s chief executive he hired a team of crack marketing men. One of these chaps was given the task of creating a new Celtic FC tie. Various designs were proposed to Mr Cassidy, followed by the question: “What colour did you have in mind?” The boss, forcing himself to be diplomatic, said through gritted teeth: “I think we’ll stick with green.”

A higher authority

ANOTHER of our stories about Sheriff J. Irvine Smith. An accused, prior to being sentenced by this legendary legal lion, declared: “As God is my judge, I am innocent.” Sheriff J. quickly replied: “He’s not. I am. You are fined £50.”

Rented romance

A COMPANY called Adams Rental posted the following advert in an American magazine: “Now renting Diamond Engagement rings and Wedding Bands – No Long Term Obligation.”