Enough buff

KELLY Macdonald has revealed she now has a no-nudity clause in her contracts. “I used to not care about getting my photos taken, or any of that nudity thing,” she admitted. “You’d expect that the more you did them, they easier they’d get. But that’s not my experience.” We wonder if Ewan McGregor, who performed alongside Kelly in a racy Trainspotting scene, has similar reservations. There was a time when Ewan (proud of his talents, acting and otherwise) appeared regularly in the buff. The diary assumed, back then, that if he was offered the role of Sherlock Holmes, Ewan would have troubled the wardrobe department for a deerstalker hat, a calabash pipe… and not much else.

Hello, goodbye

YESTERDAY’S tale about Lulu forgetting what town she was performing in reminds comedian Andy Cameron of a similar faux pas. At the start of his showbiz career he treated the audience of each town he was playing to a specially tailored greeting. And so there was: Hello Hamilton! Awright Auchinleck! Buenos Noches Bellshill! and Guten Abend Galashiels! Such loopy linguistics came to an end the night Andy performed for the WRI on the Isle of Wight. Our hero bounded on stage and greeted his audience thus: “Good evening Cowes!” He was never asked back.

Bardot-ty idea

DO all the celebrities in the known universe have tartan blood pumping through their veins? It seems likely. Especially with the diary’s intrepid team of genealogists discovering new specimens every day. Russell Smith from Kilbirnie reminds us that cowboy actor John Wayne was a wee bit Scottish. Especially when his name’s spelled, as it should be, John Wean. Then there’s sultry blonde icon, Bridgeton Bardot. “Ooh La La” The lads yelled after her. Or should that be “Och La La” for the Bridgeton belle?

Out of line

COUNTRY music. It can be so gloomy it turns you grumpy. Carla Marshall went line dancing with pals. Her instructor was as mellow as a chilly dish served at a Texas Rodeo. After Carla completed one dance, he hollered: “We’re line dancing, doll. What you’re doing isnae a line, it’s a squiggle.” Carla informs us she has moved on from country music and now frequents the local disco, where squiggly jigging is actively encouraged.

Dip-lorable suffering

WE asked for diabolical examples of hell that would provide a special kind of exquisite suffering for Scots. Reader David Donaldson suggests such a hell would include lakes of boiling oil into which people who have munched Deep Fried Mars Bars are dipped. A terrifyingly tasty torture, indeed.

Pub perambulation

ENDING on a whimsical note. Charles Lindsay tells us it takes him five minutes to walk to the pub from his house. But it’s a 35-minute walk home from the pub. “The difference is staggering,” he says.