Pencil plus pizazz

CARS run on petrol, teenagers are fuelled by chicken nuggets and Hollywood would be a deflated balloon without its gang of writers.

Which is bad news for America’s movie and TV business, because the gang is a goner – Hollywood hacks are striking for better pay and conditions.

Thankfully the Diary’s editorial team would never down tools. That’s because they’re not provided with any tools to down, apart from a solitary nub of an ancient HB pencil, which they’re generously allowed to share.

But who needs anything swisher than this? As the following dramatic yarns from our archives prove, it’s the raw imagination and witty anecdotes of our contributors that make the Diary more successful than any Hollywood blockbuster…


Darting to conclusion

A CHAP was returning by train from a conference in Aberdeen when he sat opposite a legendary Scottish athlete, which led him to blurt out: “Are you Jocky Wilson?”

“Yes,” replied Jocky, “and are you Gordon Davidson?”

“Yes!” said the delighted, but puzzled, Mr Davidson. “But how do you know my name?”

“It’s on your lapel badge,” said Jocky.


Bus-t up

A GIFFNOCK reader claims he was on the bus into town when a youngster kept turning round and making faces at the chap sitting behind him.

Eventually the passenger got fed up and told the young scamp: “When I was your age my mother told me if I made an ugly face, and the wind changed, I’d be stuck with it.”

“Well,” replied the boy, “you can’t say you weren’t warned.”


Facing the music

THE ageing process. A Bridge of Weir dad visiting his daughter ended up in a York pub when a pop music quiz started. After listening, bemused, he confessed to her that modern music was so different – he didn’t recognise any of the brief excerpts.

“Dad,” exclaimed his nearest and dearest, “they’re playing them backwards.”


Sporting saps

A TRAM was once travelling past Shawfield Stadium on a Friday evening as crowds from the greyhound race meeting were exiting.

A passenger said to the conductress, “Is that the dugs comin’ oot?”

The conductress replied: “Naw, that’s the mugs comin’ oot. The dugs go hame in a van.”


Traveller’s tale

WE recall the story of the man from Lewis who decided to emigrate, and spent a few evenings celebrating his departure before leaving on the ferry. Two days later he returned to Stornoway and never left the island again. His nickname became Gulliver.


Dog day afternoon

A FLAP with Fido. A reader told us: “I called my dog Bingo, which was fine until he ran into the Mecca hall up the road, and I ran in shouting his name. What chaos that caused among a lot of unhappy women.”