THE Diary is proud of its readers, who are a politically engaged tribe with a highly sophisticated understanding of current affairs. Philip Muir, from East Kilbride, has been focusing a keen eye on the Brexit negotiations between the UK and the European Union, and is forever hearing we have reached the last throw of the dice in Brussels.

“The two sides would have struck a deal ages ago if they’d only quit playing Ludo,” points out Philip.

Fowl comment

IN the 1980s reader Athole Fleming worked in advertising sales for a publishing company based in Park Gardens, overlooking Kelvingrove Park.

A colleague of Athole’s was once gazing out the window and noticed a rather slender man jogging past. "Look at that,” she said with a shudder of distaste. “Ah'v seen mair beef on a chicken.”

Street scene savagery

CHAOS in London where Christmas shopping at Harrods has all the festive charm of a gang of Vikings sacking a Medieval monastery. Reader Naomi Garner is concerned that similar scenes may consume Scotland when shopping restrictions ease north of the Border. To prevent such a situation arising she suggests all stores should display in their windows copies of classic Sydney Devine records.

“The hoards of sharp-elbowed shoppers would be replaced by tumbleweed in no time,” says Naomi.

Blessed ball player

FOOTY fan Foster Evans believes whoever designed the Manchester City 2020 calendar should get a bonus for his divinely inspired work. Our eagle-eyed reader spotted the featured player for December is… Gabriel Jesus.

Gritty goings on

WE recently revealed Scotland’s gritters have their own quirky names, which are painted on the sides of the vehicles. Researching the subject, reader Iain Kemp discovered the magnificent beasts currently rumbling on our roads include Paulo Gritini, Gritney Spears, Basil Salty, Ready Spready Go and Sir Salter Scott.

Meanwhile, frustrated Bill Thompson has an apt suggestion for the name of the gritter that serviced his local area last year… The Scarlet Gritternel.

Why? Because our reader kept fuming to himself: “They seek it here, they seek it there… they can’t find that dratted gritter anywhere.”

Wean’s world

MORE festive lyrics adapted to suit modern sensibilities. Reader Margaret Thomson would like to see a few Christmas carol-crooning Celts warbling the lyrics to A Wean In A Manger’.

Muscles massacred

EXASPERATED reader Pete McCourt has given up on keeping fit. “The only way I’ll get shredded at the gym is if my shoelace gets caught in the Stairmaster,” he sighs.