Performance anxiety

IN his forthcoming memoir, David Cameron traduces former friend and colleague, Michael Gove, calling him an ambassador for ‘the truth-twisting age of populism’. Although loath to get involved in a political spat, we’re happy to defend Gove’s honour on this occasion. For a brief period after university, the Edinburgh-born politico attempted to make his name as an actor, appearing as a school chaplain in Brit flick, A Feast at Midnight. As a novice performer, Gove failed to twist the truth proficiently enough to bring authenticity to his fictional role. He also proved less than adept when it came to populism. At the box office, the movie sunk like a stone.

Hall’ hell

OUR search for fresh phobias, undiscovered by medics, is proving fruitful. Robert Law, from Stewarton, suffers from Hallephobia, that creeping sensation of angst experienced when you realise not only does a busker block your path, he’s also revving-up to ravish you with his highly (un)original version of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah.

Win or bin

READER, Vanessa Tucker, from Bearsden has uplifting advice: “If at first you don’t succeed,” she explains: “Destroy all evidence you tried.”


ANTON Danyluk retains his lofty position as our favourite icon of reality TV. (Full disclosure. The Diary lacks a certain level of expertise in this genre. The only reality star we warmed to, prior to Anton, was a particularly charismatic lion who padded across the savannah in a David Attenborough documentary.) It transpires that the United Nations shares our admiration for Anton, naming the Airdrie gym instructor a World Merit Ambassador. Uncharitable souls will be unimpressed, no doubt. Perhaps even complaining that big muscles and a bigger Instagram following should not, necessarily, lead to plumb roles with international agencies tasked with maintaining global order. Such cynicism! Meanwhile, the Diary awaits, with baited breath, a similar appointment for our savannah lion, whose noble features and glossy mane make him favourite for a seat on the UN Security Council.

Hair flair

SALLY Walters, from Yoker, told her mirror-gazing son his hair looked a bit messy. “It’s not a bit Messi,” said the young Narcissus, patting down stray strands with surgical precision. “It’s a bit Ronaldo.”

Ardour and anger

Concluding with our regular soupcon of silliness, reader Paul Tyler enquires: “If young lovers whisper sweet-nothings, does a bickering elderly couple mutter salty-somethings?”