Court in act

ONCE more the Diary finds itself squished in a crowd on the Royal Mile, and assailed on all sides by enthusiastic wannabes of an artistic bent, each one brandishing a glossy flyer.

But what’s this? Could it be another theatrical experience we’re being enticed to endure…sorry, enjoy?

“I’m performing at the Fringe next week,” a chap called Matthew Berlow informs us.

“The venue is Edinburgh Sheriff Court. It’s all about a shabbily dressed, disorganised, yet eloquent lawyer who represents a variety of interesting characters. Critics have described it as a sort of comic tragedy.”

Sounds good. Where do we grab a ticket?

Actually, scrap that. For it transpires that Mr Berlow is indeed a lawyer, not a performer. And the comic tragedy he describes is what is otherwise known as… everyday life in a genuine Edinburgh court.

The jet set

THOSE who grow bored of the delights of the Fringe should head over to Perth, where a dog has been spotted jauntily riding on a jet ski on the nearby river Tay.

A chap was also perched on the jet ski, though it’s unclear who was steering the contraption, man or beast.

The Diary fervently hopes the doggy was at the controls, for a chap who is daft enough to take his pet pooch on a jet ski surely isn’t responsible enough to drive the thing.

Kid’s stuff

A PHILOSOPHICAL thought from reader Bob Kelly, who says: “Children are hereditary. If your parents didn’t have any, there’s a very good chance that neither will you.”

Volume control

DUNDEE Primary teacher Gemma Pearce was once delivering what she assumed was a thrilling lesson to a primary seven class.

Then she noticed a little chap near the back. His eyes were shut and his crumpled demeanour suggested he may have taken a sneaky sojourn to the land of Nod.

Gemma marched over and snarled in his ear: “Are you asleep?”

“I could be,” he replied, not opening his eyes, “if you’d keep the noise down a bit.”

Heated argument

CONVIVIAL Ted McPhee was at a wedding dinner when he overheard an old fellow at a nearby table call the waiter over.

“Hoi, you,” harrumphed the old fellow. “This soup isnae hot.”

“It’s gazpacho,” said the waiter.

To which the old fellow replied: “I dinnae care wit yer name is. Wit you gonnie dae aboot the cauld soup?”

Fab with food

“I HANDED in my notice at Subway,” says reader Helena Davis. “They’ll never find anyone as good as me to fill that roll.”

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