Horsing around

THE Grand National, which takes place today, is the UK’s most famous horse race, yet the Diary has never understood its popularity.

It’s celebrated as a steeplechase, for a start, yet having watched the event on numerous occasions, we can’t recall ever seeing a church steeple on the starting line.

Even if there was one, how would it go about the demanding business of racing? The steeple would have to be locked into roller skates, then given a hefty shove, to have a decent chance against all those sprightly horses.

No, the Grand National isn’t for us. For genuine sporting achievement look no further than today’s Diary, which is packed with classic tales from our archives.

There’s plenty of stumbling, staggering, huffing and puffing.

So forget that feeble horse race – it’s the foibles of the human race that are truly entertaining…

 

Nixed by neighbours

A WEST END reader heard a student on Byres Road grumble to his pal: “My wi-fi suddenly stopped working, and it took me a while to realise that my neighbours hadn’t paid their bill. Some folk are really irresponsible.”

 

Globally goofy

A READER was in the bank when a customer asked for traveller’s cheques. Unfortunately this lady was unable to recall which country she was visiting, but remembered that it began with "ch’"

The bank teller took a few guesses, which included China, Chile, Czechoslovakia. None hit the spot. Eventually the customer remembered where she was going… Tunisia.

 

Boozy badinage

A GLASGOW chap told his mates in the pub that there was a wasp in his house, so he got out the fly spray.

“It said on the can,” he explained, “not to spray near the eyes. But how can you be that accurate with a flying insect? So I just thought, to hang with that, and sprayed the whole wasp.”

 

Kirk craic

A CHURCH minister contacted us to reveal he had divided his congregation into four sections – those who were new to the faith, regular members who always turned up, those who had lost their faith, and those who were always complaining.

Or as he put it: “Finders, keepers, losers, weepers.”

 

Fishy remark

IT was windy on the Ayrshire coast one weekend, and some folk were enjoying a bit of kite-flying on the beaches.

An auld fella ambled up to one young chap struggling with his kite in the gusts and said in a chatty way: “Out flying your kite?”

“Naw,” replied the young chap. “Fishing for birds.”

 

No laughing matter

WE recall the time a mediocre comedian took to a Glasgow stage and started asking the audience what they did for a living.

A bloke in the front row replied: “I’m a stand-up comic. What do you do?”