VISITING a Glasgow department store, reader Barrie Crawford spotted a couple looking for a changing room so the wife could try on some clothes she had picked up. Finding the changing rooms closed, the woman turned to her husband and said with much regret: “Tryin’ oan’s aff.”

His & Her horrors

TELEVISION and radio presenter Kaye Adams has spotted the scariest thing yet to hit our beleaguered nation. Barely suppressing shudders and shivers, she says: “Becoming aware of the evidently growing and disturbing trend of couples wearing matching masks.”

Twee twosomes on the prowl. These really are the End of Days…

Acting up

WE’RE collecting phrases that can be used in the bedroom and at the theatre. Russell Smith, from Kilbirnie, suggests: “Great ending. But don’t spoil it for your friends.”

A dog’s life

HOLIDAYING aficionado and occasional Prime Minister Boris Johnson owns a cute rescue dog called Dilyn. Thinking about this, reader Janet Taylor has a suggestion. “Everyone in the country should wear fur coats and bark occasionally,” she says. “Then Boris might show a modicum of interest in attempting to rescue the nation from its current predicament.”

Sign of times

SHOPPING used to be a more thrilling experience, claims reader Margie Dobson. She’s been thinking back to the displays in butcher's shops in the 50s and 60s, and wonders what millennials would make of the eye-catching signs for well-hung beef.

Builder’s quote

WE continue quoting from reader Val Boyling’s useful guidebook for deciphering the language of tradesmen which is titled: Parliamo Builder’s Lingo.

Typical builder’s phrase: We’ll finish in three days.

Translation into English: That’ll be three working days. The squad don’t work bank holidays, weekends, Easter, Whitsuntide, Xmas, New Year, Ramadan, Islamic New Year, Chinese New Year, Rosh Hashanah, (Wednesday is half-day), if the foreman misplaces the Camomile tea bags and forgets to cut the crust off the cucumber sandwiches, if the van breaks down, if we’ve been out on the lash the night before and can’t be bothered turning up...

Dismissive missive

IT’S always nice to receive a written message. Okay, not always... Jim Coley, from Rutherglen, worked with a chap called Angus who got a letter that began rather inauspiciously: Dear Anus.

“I never found out if it was a spellchecking error, or whether the writer knew him well,” says Jim.

Relatively speaking

STUDYING his family history, reader Tom Evans made a startling discovery. “I come from a long line of conga dancers,” he reveals.