Wacky races

THE contest to crown the next leader of the Conservative Party – who will also get a wee shotty at being Prime Minister – is well under way.

In the lead at the moment is hingmy, closely followed by what’s ‘er name.

Though the Diary prefers sure-we’ve-seen-her-face-before.

They’re a charismatic bunch, all right. Each one ready to strut the world stage like Churchill. (The growly wee bulldog from the insurance ads. Not the bloke with the cigar.)

These head-boys and head-girls of the true-blue hue are now striving to give their platitudes some attitude. To win the country over with cliché-ridden claptrap. (Or is it claptrap-ridden clichés? We’re not entirely sure.)

Unfortunately none of the front-runners and ropey ranters hoping to be PM are as memorable as the Herald Diary.

As the following classic yarns from our archives prove, we’re sassier than Sunak and a mite more magnificent than Mordaunt…

Dry humour

THE problems of being a Son of Alba down south. A London reader wanted his kilt dry cleaned after attending a wedding, and told us: “I wasn’t sure if the local dry cleaners would know how to tackle it, so I popped round the corner and asked hopefully: ‘Can you clean kilts?’ I was momentarily confused with the reply: ‘Course mate – double, queen or king size?’”

Footering about

WE recall the Glasgow woman who was very apprehensive of the tram rails in the middle of the road. She once asked a conductor if she would get an electric shock if her foot touched a rail.

“Yes,” he replied. “But only if your other foot touches the overhead cable at the same time.”

Bus-t up

MODERN transport also has its amusing moments. A South Side reader was catching the bus into town. There was a young couple at the bus stop who didn’t get on the bus he was boarding. The driver looked over at them and shouted: “Are you two getting on?”

“Naw, we hate each other,” one of them shouted back.

Crossing paths

A READER in Troon was asking his teacher pal how he coped with his recent diabetes diagnosis. “I’m so careful,” he replied, “I don’t even risk talking to the lollipop lady outside the school.”

Cheeky remark

A READER told us about a young girl in her office who was enthusiastic about having a dolphin tattooed on her bottom, but seemed depressed afterwards.

When our reader gently inquired why, the girl blurted out: “When he’d finished he asked me if I wanted anything else done, as there was plenty of room left.”

A dog’s tale

A GOUROCK correspondent recalled a barmaid who called her black Labrador Deefer. When asked why, she replied: “D fer dog, obviously.”

Read more: The deathly silence of an old friend