Float your boat?

SCOTTISH TV presenter Martin Geissler’s other half has a clear idea what she wants to do for this summer’s holiday. Or, to be accurate, what she definitely doesn’t want to do.

“My wife’s not buying into the idea of going on a cruise,” explains Martin.

Apparently she made her feelings clear by stating: “It’s like sleeping in a coffin on a floating hell.”

“Well, that’s cleared that up,” sighs Martin, who we imagine is at this very moment feverishly flicking through brochures for caravan rentals in Pittenweem.

Buster busted

A ROMANTIC scene, in the style of Romeo and Juliet, Antony and Cleopatra, or perhaps Boris and Angela Rayner.

Tom Irvine from Strathaven was enjoying a pint in the bar of a Fort William hotel when he overheard a local lothario attempting to chat up a comely wench whose accent indicated she hailed from New York.

The conversation flowed thus…

“Can I buy you a drink?” says he.

“No thanks,” says she.

“Come on. Just one little drink,” persists he.

“Look, buster. You’re really not my type,” insists she.

“And what do you think is my type?” lilts the likely lad.

“Inflatable,” lashes out the loathing lass, and stomps out the bar.


THE Highway Code is being updated to allow movie viewing in self-driving cars, so the Diary is figuring out which flicks would be fun to watch while gliding along the motorway, hands-free. Michael Gadsby has a negative suggestion. “You don’t want to give your car any inappropriate ideas,” he says. “So whatever you do, don’t watch the 2004 movie Crash.”

Sad surprise

“I REALISED my mum preferred my twin brother,” sighs reader Alex Briggs, “when she asked me to help blow up balloons for his surprise birthday party.”

No belly laughs

ON discovering his favourite pizza restaurant was shutting down, the teenage son of reader Mary Lawson said: “I’ve had a broken heart before, but this is my first broken stomach.”

Jacket’s jaunt

MADCAP malapropisms, continued. The forgetful father of Alan Smith from Neilston lost his leather jacket on a bus. When the bereft chap arrived at the bus station to ask if it had been handed in, a helpful assistant enquired if it was real leather.

“No,” he replied. "It was stimulated."

When his wife was informed of this answer, she suggested that the frisky condition of the jacket meant it probably disappeared after flouncing off the bus of its own accord.

Battle bail-out

“WHAT do you call a knight who’s afraid to fight?” asks reader Mark South. “Sir Render.”

Read more: How a team-building exercise led to a pointed remark