Gender flap

ENCASED in body-armour, Prince Harry strode through a partially cleared minefield in Angola this week. At least Harry didn’t attempt to tip-toe through the gender debate. Body-armour provides scant protection when that argy-bargy goes BANG. Pop star, Sam Smith, declared he wants to be known as ‘they’ rather than ‘he’. Cue furious attacks on Sam. Followed by outraged defenders of Sam. It used to be so simple. Or did it? Today’s diary takes a gander at the gender war of old, played out between men and women. Such as the cheeky chat-up chappy who said: “You’re lookin’ a million dollars the night, Hen. Aw green an’ wrinkly.”

Dairy contrary

ANOTHER chat-up charm attack. A diner was eyeing up a waitress as she poured cream over his pudding. “Tell me, dear, what are you and the jug of cream doing later?” he enquired. To which the waitress responded: “I don’t know about the jug of cream, but I’m goin’ hame to my man.”

Hostile hostelry

THE landlord of a West Highland hostelry was carrying a box of empty bottles into the back yard when he discovered his wife in a compromising situation with a customer. Deeply hurt by this infidelity, the landlord shouted to the man: “You bastard, you’re barred!” As mine host retreated from the scene, he realised the chap was by far his biggest customer, and added: “For a month!”

Watch the birdie

WOMEN can do fine without blokes. Especially if they find something more splendid to chum around with. A wee Paisley wumman was on a quest for a new handbag. She entered a local shop dealing in such accessories. “What shade of blue are you after?” asked the assistant. “The same colour as my budgie,” replied the wumman, producing a photograph of her vibrantly feathered pal.

Grammar drama

A PROFESSOR of English literature scribbled on the blackboard “woman without her man is nothing” then told his students to punctuate it. The gentleman scholars all wrote: “Woman, without her man, is nothing.” The female students, sensing serious grammatical errors in the work of their male counterparts, corrected the phrase to read: “Woman! Without her, man is nothing.”

Idle is ideal

BACK in the Caveman days of yore, hubbies marched off to work, while wives stayed home dealing with household chores. But rebellion was simmering, even then. An Edinburgh mother was having lunch with a pal in a smart George Street restaurant. She explained how harassed she was, getting through all the housework drudgery. Her friend, draining a large chardonnay, told her: “My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance.”


A FORMER Heriot-Watt student told us that when she was a fresher at the Uni, she was issued with a parcel containing a packet of condoms and a pot noodle. For a romantic night in, just add music, candlelight, champagne and some boiling water.

Liquidated lads

ONE female reader explained to us that men are like fine wine. Which sounded impressive, until she added: “They all start out like grapes, and it’s our job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something you’d like to have dinner with.”

Phoney fellas

FINALLY, we end with a feminist joke about fellas: Why are men like mobile phones? Because an upgrade will always be available a few months down the line.