Boxing clever

A DIARY tale of teenage torpor inspires reader Peter Morgan to inform us of his own indolent adolescent, his 16-year-old son, who slouches at the breakfast table, sullenly munching cereal while being hypnotised by the screen of his mobile phone.

One morning Peter said to the lad: “When I was your age I studied proper reading material at breakfast.”

The lad glanced up and asked what dad meant.

“I always read the back of the cereal box,” said dad.

“I once tried that with a box of Frosties,” confessed the lad. “But I couldn’t find even one TikTok video to watch. What a con job.”

Throne moan

WE continue celebrating the greatest work of literature since Tolstoy’s War and Peace, Prince Harry’s equally tempestuous tale of cracked dog bowls and frost-bitten family jewels. (Nope, that doesn’t mean icicles dangling from a diamond-encrusted tiara.)

“I’m currently reading Harry’s book, Spare,” reports Alan Clements from Cumbernauld, “and it’s incredibly relatable. Just like Harry, I grew up with a lurking suspicion that I wasn’t next in line to the British throne. Harry – I feel your pain.”

Booze hound

ON the subject of crockery for hounds. Maureen Gilroy from Partick was holidaying in the wilds of Australia when she stumbled upon a tin-shack bar where the local pet poodle was being encouraged to drink beer poured into its dog bowl.

Our reader was not amused, and emphatically scolded the barman for encouraging such doggy dissipation.

“It could be worse, lady,” shrugged the barman. “At least he never touches spirits.”

Sentimental sayonara

WISTFUL Richard Clapton from East Kilbride gets in touch to say: “I long for the days when I used to be nostalgic.”

Liquid lunch

A DIARY yarn about the importance of regularly imbibing liquids reminds Jennifer Cooper of visiting a health spa with a gal pal, and being served orange juice.

“I wish they’d serve potato juice instead,” grumbled the gal pal. “Y’know… vodka.”

Read more from the Diary: Will Prince Harry be skittled?

The cruellest cut

SURPRISED reader Stan White spotted a group of young chaps in a Glasgow hostelry, all sporting that legendary haircut known as the mullet.

“Is it back in fashion?” enquires a nervous Stan. “I certainly hope not. It’s barbaric. It’s inhumane. It was inflicted on the general populace back in the 1980s, without prior consultation. The mullet really is the hairdressing equivalent of Maggie Thatcher’s poll tax.”

A short story

AN unlikely tale. Reader Norman Sharp says: “I saw a sign outside a shop, boasting ‘50% off men’s trousers’. Turned out they were selling shorts.”