Rhyme time

YOU can always tell when a Diary reader is really, really furious. They start writing poetry.

Stevie Campbell from Hamilton is incandescent with rage about the garden-based galivanting that was indulged in by our political overlords while the rest of the nation was in lockdown.

He also finds himself with quill in hand, an ink pot on his writing desk, and the muse looking expectantly over his shoulder.

All of which is a rather long-winded way of saying that Stevie composed the following verse for us…

How many lying Tories can meet,

In an English country garden,

Prime Minister don't care, if he gets spotted there,

He will simply beg your pardon.

Mauling the Mogg

MORE on the ever-popular true blue brigade… Discussing his party’s predicament on Newsnight with Kirsty Wark, the limp and languid Tory toff Jacob Rees-Mogg proved he’s more venomous than he looks by calling Conservative leader in Scotland, Douglas Ross: “A lightweight figure.”

This stinging rebuke elicited that most Scottish of words from interviewer Kirsty, who let slip a shocked: “Ooft!”

Diary reader Bob Jamieson is more than a mite miffed with Mogg, and retaliates splendidly by saying: “At least Mr Ross doesn’t bear a passing resemblance to Walter the Softy from The Beano.”

Ooft, indeed.

Tram drama

THERE’S been far too much topicality in today’s Diary. To remedy the situation we now travel back a few decades.

The late grandmother of John McMenemy from Milngavie would recall that during World War II American soldiers stationed in Glasgow were somewhat bemused when the conductress on a tram would snap: "C'mon, getaff."

The mystified military men never could decide whether they were being ordered to stay or scram.

All that jazz

WE’RE studying the exotic terminology used by golfers. Murray Macmillan from Bridge of Allan informs us that a ‘Glenn Miller’ is when the ball doesn’t make it over the water.

Name game… again

THE Diary continues shining a light on the curious phenomenon of people whose monikers provide a quirky commentary on their life. Reader Brian Chrystal was genuinely sorry to hear about the Devonshire chap whose pet ducks were put down after catching bird flu.

He also notes that the unfortunate fellow is named Alan Gosling.

Dry wit

OVERHEARD on a Glasgow bus. One chap says to his pal: “I’ve been trying to do ‘Dry January’ but it’s impossible. So I’m doing Dry Monday to Thursday instead.”

Dead funny

“WHAT do you call a typo on a headstone?” asks reader Mary Shaw. “A grave mistake.”