Horror stories

THE Welsh Rugby Union has ordered guest choirs not to sing the Tom Jones hit Delilah at pre-match games, even thought it’s popular with fans.

The reason being that it’s a violent tale of murder most foul. And, no, that doesn’t mean a chicken gets bumped off.

What next? Will the lyrics of Flower of Scotland be changed when they’re next belted out before a Scotland match?

Instead of describing the battle of Bannockburn in all its gory glory, the song will instead be about a Scottish pacifist who bakes fluffy sponge cakes, using the – wait for it – Flour of Scotland.

The Diary, of course, will never eschew gritty narratives, as the following classic tales from our archives prove.

So brace yourselves for the horrors of jail, riotous women and… Michael Buble.

Off-track report

WHEN the Commonwealth Games were held in Glasgow huge crowds used the Mount Florida station after the athletics at Hampden. The platform was crowded one night as the flow of trains to Glasgow Central was interrupted by a train going the other way, to Neilston. Many visitors were unsure where Neilston was, then a chap with a booming voice declared boastfully: “Been to Neilston a few times.”

He added: “Mind you, that’s only because I’ve fallen asleep on the train.”

Sound of silence

THE tranquillity of a Finnieston bar was shattered when a rabble of women arrived, demanding drink after attending a Michael Buble concert in the nearby Hydro. They all wanted served at once, so the pressurised barman yelled: “Let’s do this the easy way. Oldest first.”

Suddenly you could hear a pin drop.

Barman on a roll

MORE bar room badinage. A reader requested soup in a Glasgow boozer. It arrived with no roll, so he asked for one.

The barman rolled his eyes and said: “You’re pushing the boat oot noo.”

He lifted the last roll in the bar, ripped it in two, and gave our reader half.

“I need that other bit for my soup,” he grumped.

Our mutual friend

FACEBOOK has seamlessly entered people’s lives. A reader heard a young chap discussing a mutual friend with a pal, and explaining: “Twenty-one days is a mint jail sentence. He’ll be well pleased.”

The pal glanced at his phone and replied: “Yeah. He’s already got eleven likes for it.”

Relatively speaking

A READER explained: “There are two types of people in my life. People who understand that I hate talking on the phone, and my mother.”

Twitter versus tipplers

MORE social media. “I was explaining Twitter to my 74-year-old mum,” said a reader. “I said there’s lots of jokes and showing off.”

She said: ”That’s what pubs are for.”

“She has a point,” conceded our reader.

Read more: Be very careful when it comes to pie in the sky