Taking the biscuit

TO the Edinburgh Festival where, as usual, young artists are desperately looking for their big break, as they set out upon the long and winding road which will hopefully take them to a Hollywood swimming pool, four failed marriages and a lengthy sojourn in the Betty Ford Clinic.

But first the poor souls have to knock ‘em dead in Auld Reekie, with roller-skating versions of Hamlet

and monologue performances where fewer people are in the audience than on stage.

Even more dispiriting, we hear that it’s nigh impossible for financially strapped artists to make ends meet at the Festival, prices being on the wrong side of astronomical.

Which has led Inverness writer and director, Jack MacGregor – in town with his play Nightlands – to devise a cunning and revolutionary stratagem.

In a conspiratorial whisper, he hisses: “Covertly eating a non-Fringe-venue biscuit in a venue bar space is an act of anti-capitalist noncompliance.”

Flaming furnishings

IT’S not just artists who are struggling to make ends meet. The entire nation is balanced on a precipitous cliff edge leading to penury.

Which leads Brian Johnston from Torrance to say: “Is there any truth in the rumour that the next incumbent of Number 10 Downing Street will introduce a tax on furniture to bring it into line with other domestic fuels.”

Reaper-ish riposte

SOME grave news from David Miller from Milngavie. An elderly friend of David’s was attending a funeral with his son, and indicated that he would like to sit at the front.

“Don’t worry about that,” came the riposte, “your turn is coming.”

Size matters

CONFUSED reader Molly Flynn says. “I bought a grow bag from the garden centre back in March. But it’s still the same size. What am I doing wrong?”

Musical mauling

THE Glasgow nightlife. Ye cannae whack it. Though sometimes you are whacked by it. Comedian and Scot Squad actor Paul McDaniel reports being outside Central Station when he witnessed a drunk bloke yelling at a homeless fellow.

At which point another chap arrived on the scene carrying a large musical keyboard, with which he proceeded to batter the drunk bloke.

Paul points out that this was one occasion when a keyboard produced discord rather than a chord.

Sarky sir

DECLARING your pronouns is the done thing, nowadays. Reader Matt Shaw says: “I identify as sarcastic, and my pronouns are har/har.”

Birdy badinage

SOCIAL MEDIA fan Simon Mortimer says: “I arrived at my hotel for the Twitter conference. The concierge said: ‘Follow me…’”