In hiding

THE announcement that The Buteman newspaper is to close reminds a reader of The Diary once passing on the story from the paper of the countryside ranger who went to check an eight-foot-long bird hide at Ascog Loch which had been built to help twitchers spot the rare birds that stop off on Bute on their annual migrations. Inside it he found a family of four from Glasgow who were having a holiday in it, complete with food, milk, newspapers, and a fold-up settee.

Gulp

THE death of singer Leon Redbone, who had such a rich, mellow voice, reminds a reader of attending one of his concerts at the Queen's Hall in Edinburgh. Leon liked to chat to the audience between numbers, and he told those present about his difficulties in sleeping. ''My doctor told me to drink whisky an hour before bedtime,'' he explained, before adding: ''I could only manage to do it for 45 minutes before I had to give up as I couldn't drink any more."

Steaming

OUR stories about folk waking up in front of nuns and wondering if they had gone to heaven brings forth a darker tale from Richard Gault in Dunoon, who says: "In the forties when towns had their own gas plants, a relative of mine in Buckie was making his way home in the blackout, but having imbibed somewhat, he fell down the steps into the room where the furnace was just as the furnaceman was stoking up. When he came too he was startled to see a face peering at him from the smoke and flames.

The furnaceman asked who he was and he nervously replied: "When I was alive I was called Alex."

Fur goodness sake

A GLASGOW reader swears to us he heard a young woman in the town tell her male pal: "Have you seen my cat tattoo?" and he replied: "How does it hold the needle?"

Lewis no more

WELL done to Scots singer Lewis Capaldi topping the charts with his debut album. Derek Miller in Torrance tells us he was lucky to get tickets to see Lewis in New York while he was on a family holiday. Says Derek: “Lewis has the voice of an angel but possesses a uniquely Scottish turn of phrase. I needn’t have worried that he would rein in his patter to suit an international audience. His opening gambit was, ‘Thanks fur comin tae the gig. The idea is that ah sing a few songs that you listen tae, then ah f*** off’.”

Hot stuff

AS we take last orders on our restaurant disaster stories, Barham Brummage tells us: "Friends were out for dinner and their waiter was a young chap, clearly new to the job but making up for it with enthusiasm. When it came to dessert my friend ordered the crepe suzette which was to be flambéd at the table. My friend was a tad concerned as the lad sloshed a very generous measure of brandy into the pan. On ignition the chap disappeared behind a wall of flames which touched the ceiling. When the conflagration subsided the waiter, sans eyebrows, wordlessly wheeled the trolley back to the kitchen where, presumably, the chef did the job safely."

What a treat

AN AYRSHIRE reader was in his golf club bar when he heard a fellow member announce: "My wife's giving me the silent treatment." "You're lucky," replied another member, "My wife gives me the speaking treatment."

Read more: Camley's Cartoon on Thursday, June 6