Legal clause

‘TIS Christmas Eve. A time when the naughty children of Caledonia hastily instruct a criminal solicitor to work on their behalf, by sending a stern legal letter to Lapland.

“Dear Mr Claus,” begin such missives, “my client (Wee Tam Broon, 7 Muir Lane, aged 7-and-three-quarters) wishes you to be aware that there is no evidence, that would stand up in court, linking him to any serious misdemeanours this year, only rumours and insubstantial allegations. Therefore he fully expects the requisite number of Christmas presents under the tree tomorrow morning, with at least a few more goodies stuffed in the stocking at the end of his bed.”

Of course, Herald readers don’t need sparkly Christmas gifts. They have something better, all year round – the Diary.

And, let’s admit it, the following classic tales from our archives are far more entertaining than anything you’ll discover piled up in the back of Santa’s sled…

Harping on

A MUSICIAN who played the clairseach – the Celtic harp – was on a late-night Glasgow train, returning home after a concert.

A friendly drunk, spotting his instrument, encouraged him to play.

Reluctantly, and to keep the peace, he removed the harp from its case. The inebriated traveller got to his feet and declared: “Quiet, please. The harpoonist’s gonnae gie us a tune.”

Pedal proud

THE joys of youth. A reader was strolling in Glasgow when a little chap came towards her on a bike. He stopped, pointed to where he’d come from, and asked: “Are you going that way?”

When our reader answered in the affirmative, he proudly replied: “Good – you’ll see ma skid.”

Colour conundrum

A CHAP visited a Troon chip shop, and was asked if he wanted sauce.

“Aye, tomato sauce, please,” he said.

To which the girl replied: “Sorry, we’ve only got rid or broon.”

Rude awakening

A READER waiting for a bus in Glasgow city centre heard an older chap tell a young woman puffing on a fag: “That’s a terrible habit.”

Barely glancing at him, the lady replied: “So’s being rude to strangers.”

Going underground

WE recall the Christmas when the stars of the King’s Theatre Aladdin panto, Karen Dunbar and Still Game’s Gavin Mitchell, were in full costume on the platform of St Enoch’s Subway station, having their pictures taken to promote the show.

As they posed for the photographer, a train arrived. One chap, alighting, took in the scene, then muttered sardonically: “Has your magic carpet broken down?”

Message: Munchies, please

MORE panto. A few years back comedian Frankie Boyle tweeted Des Clarke, also in Aladdin at Glasgow’s King’s Theatre. “We’re in the stalls,” wrote Frankie. “If you could throw the sweeties quite far, I’d appreciate it.”