Training day

TONY Blair was the Mr Optimism of British politics, gliding into Downing Street accompanied by the jaunty jingle of Things Can Only Get Better.

And things did indeed get better. For Tony’s son Euan, whose training company has just been valued at £140 million. His own share’s worth about £70 million. That’s the sort of spending cash that could give any chap’s wallet a hernia.

The Diary admits to being a tad envious, for we’ve been running a similar organisation for years, with no comparable windfall.

Our stories are published specifically for training purposes. To coach people how to fumble the ball, bungle the opportunity, mess up, miss out and meltdown.

Study the following tales from our archives and you too can be as daft as our contributors, including the chap who told us he took a dram every night and slept “like a Trojan”.

Suspicious minds

“SILENCE is golden,” a woman having coffee with friends in the West End was heard to observe. “Unless you have kids. Then it’s just suspicious.”

Nutty idea

WE once heard of a minister who was teaching Sunday School and decided to throw in education about the local wildlife. He said to the children: “What am I? I’m small, I’m furry, I’ve got a big tail and I like to eat nuts.”

A girl put up her hand, squirmed, and obviously wrestling with a heavy burden, answered: “I know it should be Jesus. But is it a squirrel?”

Doc meets dopey

GLASGOW consultant John Larkin’s book, How To Keep Your Doctor Happy, urged patients to be more specific when talking to their docs, and gave as a bad example a discussion which went:

“And the last time you had the chest pain was?”

“A year ago.”

“And what were you doing at the time?”

“I was an architect.”

Fruity faux pas

ONE of our highflying readers was once on a plane, sitting next to an American who asked for lemon tea.

The cabin staff replied that there was no fruit tea, just regular.

Snorting with derision, the young American turned to our reader and said: “Huh! When did lemons become a fruit?”

Weighty matters

AT a Weight Watchers meeting in Glasgow’s South Side the organiser taking the money felt the need to apologise to those who had been standing around patiently.

“Sorry for your wait,” she said to the woman at the front of the queue.

The customer replied: “It’s my own fault. I need willpower.”

Just kidding?

A GLASGOW letting agent once told us that someone had finally given her the answer she had been waiting for. When a potential customer phones seeking to rent a property, the agent always runs through some set questions, which include: “Children?”

“Yes, two. Aged nine and twelve,” the caller replied.

“Animals?” asked the letting agent.

“No,” replied the caller. “Both well behaved.”

Mind your language

A COUPLE of English tourists were in Inveraray, studying the old-fashioned Apothecary sign over the chemist’s shop. One turned to the other and said: “I don’t know any Gaelic. I wonder what it means?”