Youth in revolt?

THE Herald recently reported that modern students are less politically engaged than the roaring, ranting rebels of yesteryear. One of the reasons for this is that in the 1960s, when the scent of revolution permeated the air, there were only three TV channels. This often resulted in the following conversation in halls of residence across the nation…

Student 1: Fancy staying in tonight, enjoying a tepid mug of Horlicks and watching the telly?

Student 2: There’s only Corrie or Z-Cars on the box.

Student 3: Sounds grim. Let’s plot the downfall of capitalism, instead.

Netflix put an end to such youthful agitation, meaning capitalism is safe for evermore. But the revolutionary flame is not entirely extinguished. As these classic tales from our archives prove, Diary correspondents are a rebellious bunch. In a world turned safe and sluggish, our gang remain defiantly daffy…

Guess who

A YOUNG woman arrived back from a crowded West End bar, and told her pals at the table: “Would you believe that the guy at the bar managed to guess my star sign was Cancer straight away?”

Her more cynical pal replied: “I take it you’d already told him your name was June?”

“Why?” replied her baffled pal.

Final chapter

A BASHFUL reader returned a tattered library book and explained that her puppy had chewed it up. She offered to pay for it, then remarked to the librarian that he must hear a lot of strange excuses.

The librarian recalled a woman coming in to pay for a lost book, who explained that she used it to prop up the head of her recently departed husband for an open coffin viewing, then forgot to remove it before he was cremated.

Wash & go

WE recall with fondness the tram conductress who, upon being asked if the caur was going to Maryhill, replied, no, Dalmuir.

When the passenger protested that it didn’t say Dalmuir on the front, she replied: “Aye, well, it says Persil on the side, but that disnae mean we take in washin’.”

Face facts

THE travails of modern dating. A reader in a Byres Road hostelry heard a young student-type tell his pal that he had split up with his girlfriend. The chap then added: “The day after she dumped me, she phoned to ask how you change your relationship status on Facebook.”

Hang it all

THE joys of call centres. A reader told us: “My call was answered by someone who said they would transfer me to a ‘specialist’. Sadly, I didn’t realise their specialism was playing Vivaldi for 20 minutes before I hung up.”

Conventional response

“I’M attending the annual sarcasm convention tomorrow,” said a reader. “I can’t wait.”