Blue blood braw?

IT’S claimed that Prince Harry has managed to find work in America so speedily because he’s been given a special visa for people with ‘extraordinary ability’. Which leads the Diary to ponder what his special talent might be. Perhaps it’s Harry’s extraordinary ability to order his valet to squish a spot of Colgate on his diamond encrusted toothbrush of a morning.

Or maybe it’s the extraordinary ability to glower. The petulant Prince could easily win an Olympic gold in glowering, especially when he has something suitable to glower at. (An older brother always come in handy, for instance.)

The Diary is willing to concede that Harry is an exceptional fellow, though his aptitudes are no more ample than those of our correspondents, who have the rarest talent of all. The talent to stumble upon surreal situations of every conceivable kind, as the following tales from our archives reveal.

Will this gain our readers special visas to work in the States? Probably not. Though they’ll always find a welcome home in the Diary, a much more delightful place to take up residence.

Mud slinging

WE recall the occasion when Motherwell FC were stung by critics who claimed their pitch was more suited to planting potatoes than silky football, so announced it was to be re-turfed. One fan commented on a website: “Don’t forget – it’s green side up this time.”

Cabbie curtailed

A BEARSDEN reader once told us he was getting a taxi home, and was chatting to the driver who was saying he enjoyed working for himself and being his own boss. The driver had just finished telling him: “No on tells me what to do,” when our reader had to say: “Stop here.”

Ill no thrill

GLASWEGIANS sometimes exhibit a strange type of pessimism. This was shown to a reader visiting a friend in the Western Infirmary who heard an elderly woman in the lift behind him tell her companion: “But then again, Margaret, if they cure him he’ll no’ have anything to moan about.”

Green for danger

THE Diary is always fascinated by the eating habits of the Scottish nation. A reader was once told by a colleague at work that there was a new warning sign put up in the staff canteen. When our reader asked what it was, the colleague replied: “Salad bar.”

Love letter

“I CALL my new boyfriend Malcolm X,” said a woman having coffee with her friends in Glasgow’s West End. “Not because he’s a human rights activist, but because of the way he ends his affectionate texts to me.”

Mind your language

IT’S tough trying to support schoolchildren with their homework. A Glasgow father once told us: “Helping my son with his English, I explained to him what an oxymoron was. When I asked if it made sense, he replied, ‘Clear as mud.’”

Table talk

MANY of our correspondents love a daft gag. One told us about a woman who went into a Glasgow furniture store and asked: “Is that an occasional table?”

“Naw,” replied the young assistant, “it’s always a table.”