THERE was a satisfying conclusion to the weekend’s Eurovision Song Contest. Some lank-haired chap from the UK – looking like Thor impersonating a Bee Gee impersonating Thor – came second, and beleaguered Ukraine bagged victory (We’re sure they would have preferred peace within their sovereign borders, but winning a camp singing competition will have to do for now).

The majority of the night was, inevitably, a showcase for silly, surreal and so-so singing…. so-so being a synonym for absolute tosh.

Understanding all this, Harry Shaw, from Airdrie, says: “I think there’s someone with a sense of humour in scheduling at the BBC. Anyone wanting to avoid Eurovision on BBC1 on Saturday night had the perfect alternative on BBC2… Far From The Madding Crowd.”

Getting fruity

OUR readers are a veritable Debrett’s when it comes to emphasising the importance of etiquette. One such stickler for protocol and manners is Ian Noble, from Carstairs Village, South Lanarkshire, who gets in touch to advise: “Never make eye contact when eating a banana.”

Puppetish pontifications

THE Diary is known for its impressive showbiz connections. There isn’t a superstar on the planet that we can’t contact on the blower (Our technique involves phoning direct enquiries, then crossing our fingers and hoping for the best).

One of the celebs we name-dropped recently was Kermit, the singing, dancing and pig-romancing frog.

Inspired by this, reader Roddy Young asks: “What did Kermit say when he got to the top of the hill?”

The answer is, of course… “A Muppet.”

More birdbrained badinage

FOR some vitally important reason that now escapes our recollection, we are listing the prodigious achievements of parrots. Richard Davis, from Vienna, says: “I have a parrot who does a fair impersonation of a horse. I call it my polymer.”

Buzzing bee-haviour

MADCAP malapropisms, continued. A woman who worked with Ian Sommerville, from Largs, once recalled a melee that broke out at a wedding she attended. Being a risk averse lady, she had sensibly, “made a beehive for the door”.

Robustly regal ranting

OUR correspondents are lopping letters from movie titles to suggest better pictures that could have been filmed instead.

David Donaldson is eager that Hollywood make a flick about a minor celeb, whose career as an after-dinner speaker falls apart after she develops Tourette's syndrome.

This tragic celluloid melodrama, would, of course, be titled… The Frican Queen.

Scooby do this…

SMARTY-PANTS reader Mary Thornton says: “Every Scooby-Doo episode would be two minutes long if the gang went to the mask store first and asked questions.”