Nae luck

BINGO halls will reopen on August 24 if the current health situation doesn’t deteriorate. Paul Cook from Cumbernauld isn’t impressed.

“A game of bingo begins with hope and optimism,” he says. “Then degenerates into crushing disappointment courtesy of the person talking balls on stage. So who needs bingo when you get the same experience tuning into a Government coronavirus briefing?”

Language lesson

THE death of former SDLP leader John Hume reminds reader Dougie McKerrell of the time both Hume and Ian Paisley were MEPs in the European Parliament. Hume was a fluent French speaker and would turn the translation on his headphones to the Gallic language when Paisley was speaking. He thus avoided hearing the lilting, mellifluous tones of his fellow Irishman.

(When we say lilting and mellifluous we mean in the same way that fingernails raking a blackboard are lilting and mellifluous.)

Fallen idol

AND while we’re on the subject… Reader Scott Thomson says John Hume was a towering figure in Irish politics and therefore a statue should be erected in his memory.

He adds: “Then we can tear it down an hour later, to keep the social justice warriors happy.”

Toilet humour

WE now present a dramatic dialogue between an elderly, half-deaf bloke and his middle-age son, which Gordon Wright overheard in an Edinburgh pub.

Son: Dae ye want crisps?

Father: What flavours huv they got?

Son: I'll see, but I'm gaun tae the toilet first.

Son: (emerging from toilet grinning) Wid ye believe it? There's a machine in there selling flavoured condoms.

Father: (cupping hand to ear) Huv they got smokey bacon?

Tabled amendment

A SPORTING suggestion from reader Richard Jones: “Why not allow professional darts players to also enjoy the thrill of completing a clearance in snooker by replacing the balls on the table with a pitcher of lager and a plate of pork pies?”

Vested interest

A DIARY tale reminds John Richmond of a case he presided over as a Glasgow District Court magistrate. A man was accused of breach of the peace after shouting from his balcony and alarming his neighbours. The prosecuting lawyer asked what he was wearing at the time.

The accused replied: “Pants and a singlet.” He then turned to the magistrate and explained in scholarly tones: “A singlet is a vest, Your Honour.”

The esteemed magistrate, being most learned and wise, declared that, yes, he was aware such a garment existed.

Triumphantly taut

“What prize do you give someone who hasn't moved in a year?” asks Sue McGivern. “A trophy.”

Read more: Those were the days