Crime fiction

GLASGOW. Like prohibition Chicago, it’s a city of ne’er-do-wells and nefarious activities. As evidence, we site this tale from local author Deedee Cuddihy. A friend of Deedee’s, who lives in a ground floor flat, was awoken one morning by a ladder scraping against the outside building.

There followed a conversation between two rough-sounding gents.

"This gun is rubbish, can you get another one?" muttered the first gent.

"Yes,” came the response. “There's lots in the van."

At this point we should probably mention that the building was being worked upon by tradesmen who may have owned an assortment of glue guns, which are handy for repairs.

But why spoil a perfectly good gangster yarn?

Hume advantage

EDINBURGH University recently stripped the name David Hume from the campus building previously named after him. The decision was taken because some of the 18th century philosopher’s views were deemed unacceptable in these politically correct times.

A Glasgow academic gets in touch to suggest the building should be renamed after a neglected giant of jurisprudence and Baron of the Exchequer in early 19th century Scotland.

The fact that he was the errant philosopher's nephew, and also shared his name, is entirely coincidental.

Surely if the David Hume Tower is renamed the David Hume Tower the matter will be settled to everyone’s satisfaction.

Forging ahead

COMIC actor Johnny Mac has lived in Glasgow for 15 years, though he still gets confused between the Forge shopping centre and the Fort, and recently went to meet his wife at the wrong location.

“I told her it was new shopping social distance rules… five miles apart,” says Johnny. Alas, hs wife opted for the Queen Victoria response to witticisms.

She was not amused.

Catastrophic romance

WE’RE collecting words for our updated version of the dictionary. Reader Angus Macmillan suggests: Oedipuss complex, n. When you are inexplicably attracted to your mother’s cat.

Web woe

READER Jenny Kennedy's teenage son was struggling to complete an assignment on his computer as he couldn’t stop browsing the internet.

“Someone should invent a computer that isn’t logged on to the web,” he sighed.

“I’ve got a great name for it,” said mum. “The typewriter.”

Diluted drama

WE’VE been imagining what novels would have been published in the past if authors had to tone down their material. Colin Mearns suggests DH Lawrence might have written Lady Chatterley’s Facebook Friend.

Biting comment

OUR readers are a charitable bunch. Tom Owen tried to share a sandwich with a homeless fellow. Unfortunately the homeless fellow shouted rather rudely: “Get your own sandwich.”

Read more: The war of the of peacocks