Location? Loopiness

SCOTLAND’S hopes of independence faced a serious challenge this week, when William Wallace was stretched out on a wooden rack and politely informed by England’s Torturer-in-Chief that he would have to return to Hollywood, or Australia, or wherever he came from, and, no, he couldn’t take a stick of Edinburgh Rock with him to munch on the trip home.

Some of the above information may be a tad askew, and it would probably add to the veracity of the narrative if the name Wallace was replaced with that of Sturgeon, yet an essential truth remains.

The SNP’s divorce proceedings from that simpering cad known as England are not running smoothly.

Luckily, for those of an independent nature, the Diary will always provide an escape route, for as the following classic yarns from our archives prove, our merry band of contributors separated themselves from the common herd of nations long ago. Waving a fond farewell to the shores of seriousness and sanity, they set sail for the distant shores of silliness, where we locate them below…

Poo-pooing the request

IN the nice-try department is the young Glasgow father, whose wife was changing their new baby’s nappy, and who suggested that he take a turn.

“I’ll do the next one,” he said from behind his newspaper.

When the time came for another nappy change, his wife looked pointedly at him, so he replied: “I meant the next baby.”

Franco faux pas

WE recall the wise undergraduate at Strathclyde Uni who wrote an essay on the French Revolution and referred to the infamous sovereign lady as "Mary-Anne Twanette".

Double trouble

TOUR guides are very wise. A reader was doing an open-topped bus tour of Dublin when the guide announced at one point: “The Taoiseach is a fine man currently doing the job of two men.” He then paused before adding: “Laurel and Hardy.”

Musical moniker… maybe

A READER told us a numpty friend of his was flicking a Glasgow gig guide and commented that The Scotia was featuring a band called "TBA" at the end of the month.

He then piped up: “Ye know, that band must be good, as I’ve noticed they get loads of gigs around the city.”

Driven to distraction

A READER was in a Glasgow pub one weekend when a fellow beer guzzler declared: “I always follow government advice to pull up at the side of the road when tired, and have a nap. Mind you,” he added, “my passengers never seem happy about it.”

Maybe baby

A COLLEAGUE once interrupted the Diary team beavering away at our desks to give us this invaluable advice: “Liven up trips to Tesco by mischievously dropping a pregnancy test into a couple’s trolley.”