The dating game

FIRST dates can be excruciating. Jenny Curran recalls one such occasion when she turned up at a restaurant only for her suitor to arrive with a briefcase. Rashly, our reader asked what was in the case. The suitor opened it and unfolded a piece of paper, on which were scribbled strange markings. He proceeded to explain it was a board game he had invented, and hoped to market. “During the meal he made me play the game,” says Jenny. “When ever I failed to understand the rules, he’d snip: ‘What’s wrong with you? You’re not playing it right.’”

Jenny adds with a shudder: “For some unfathomable reason I decided there wouldn’t be a second date.”

Housing benefit

DUNDEE born writer and presenter Danny Wallace was amused by a disparaging comment the Prime Minister made about the residents of an upmarket London postcode.

“I like how Boris Johnson uses ‘Islingtonian’ as such an insult,” says Danny. “I used to drive past his big house almost every day. It was in Islington.”

Hard case

EVER wondered what a bulletproof chap born in the Emerald Isle would be called? Reader Charlie Clark has an answer: “Rick O’Shea.”

Weapon of choice

TWO American tourists were shopping in Wally’s Megastore in Campbeltown. One arrived at the till holding a knife she wished to purchase. The shop’s owner, Paul Crane, told the American he was surprised she managed to fetch the knife, as they’re deliberately stocked on high shelves for safety’s sake, where only shop assistants can retrieve them.

As the Americans left the shop, one muttered: “They’re very strict with knives in here.”

The other replied: “Yes, I guess that’s because they don’t have guns.”

Rhyming Robbo

A FAN of Liverpool FC has published a poem on social media celebrating valiant Scot and English Premier League winner, Andy Robertson. And it brings a tear to our eye…

“He is a belter,

Different from the rest,

Rockets in his left boot

And his crosses are the best.”

If Andy ever bags a World Cup medal, we now demand that a creative Caledonian must compose a light opera in celebration of Robbo’s ball control.

Wakey shakey

WE like Kilmarnock novelist David F. Ross’s description of his waking hours. “Up. Face like a pair of melted snakeskin boots. Hair like the weekly contents of a Dyson. Voice like a hot air balloon exploding. Morning.”

Lone wolf cat

ANOTHER question needing answered. Sandy Tuckerman wonders where the word copycat come from. “Our feline friends are the most independently minded animals on the planet,” he points out.

Step too far

“I DON’T trust stairs,” says reader Sam McDaniel. “They’re always up to something.”