Rhyme time

ENGLAND winning anything is invariably viewed as a provocation aimed at the Scottish nation; they only do it to spite us, after all. Nevertheless, there is an upside to the lionesses footy victory. It inspires the argy-bargy bards of Alba to scribble poetry in retaliation, such as the following verse from Gavin Weir of Ochiltree…

Ochone, ochone. Gawd, help me, Mither,

England’s went an’ scored anither.

“Haun ba’, haun ba,” the Germans shout,

But England’s won the cup, nae doubt.

Ending the pain o’ a long, winless drought.

Sixty years o’ hurt, now done an’ gone,

’66 and ’22, on Wembley’s fabled lawn.

But if you’re a Scot, and you live tae a hunner,

The Beeb will showcase the win – a weekly repeat stunner,

And for the next sixty years, our lives will be a scunner.

Foody faux pas

A TALE involving a tasty nibble of what you fancy. Diary correspondent David Donaldson and wife Marion enjoy dining at Glasgow’s Partick Duck Club.

So Marion texted family members to confirm numbers for a birthday dinner at that very eatery.

Alas, she failed to notice that the F is next to the D on a keyboard… thus scandalising her nearest and dearest.

Blast from past

WE continue describing classic films in the most boring way possible. Dan Sharpe suggests… Southern dandy says to southern belle: "Ah couldnae gie a damn aboot flatulence."

The movie is, of course, Gone With The Wind.

Ghoulish gaff

HORRIFIED reader Nigel Mitchell says: “It’s a disgrace that gingerbread men are forced to live in houses made of their own flesh.”

One up

SPORTS fan Bryce Drummond from Kilmarnock is enjoying the TV coverage of the Commonwealth Games, and has been particularly entertained by the commentary from fabled Scottish pedal-pusher Sir Chis Hoy.

In one monologue, Chris recalled his humble origins in biking, admitting that when he was 19 he raced in front of a crowd comprised entirely of one man and his dog.

And the dog was asleep.

Summer bummer

NOVELIST Rose Ruane is not impressed with the intermittently dreich weather, and now fears the west of Scotland might be saying sayonara to summer.

“Glasgow being ridiculously over-eager with the first whispers and shivers of autumn,” she harrumphs, adding: “Swear it’s a conspiracy to start selling soup and cardigans.”

Rum goings-on

“A FRIEND told me rum isn’t good for the heart," says reader Dave Hunt. “I’m still not sure, so I’m consulting a bacardiologist.”

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