• Talking balls

SATURDAY was one of those rare occasions when Glasgow’s green-and-white kickyball squad won a trophy.

We’re joking, of course. Celtic nab a trophy almost every day of the year.

They collect so much silverware, in fact, that it has led to the Tooth Fairy being poached from her previous job delivering coinage of the realm to gummy kids.

Instead, she now sneaks a shiny trophy under Ange Postecoglou’s pillow every night.

Celtic’s triumphs may be a tad commonplace, though fans new to the sport still find much to thrill them.

Hoops diehard Barry Curtis took his girlfriend to her first game on Saturday, and she was dazzled by what she witnessed on the pitch.

“That’s impressive!” she trilled.

“D’you mean the way the ball got crossed?” enquired Barry.

“That too,” she conceded. “But I was talking about that player’s wavy hair. I wonder where he gets it done?”

  • Crying out loud

THE Diary has received a plaintive message from across the Pond. (Not a message yelled across the duck pond in Rouken Glen Park, we should add. The slightly more impressive pond of salt water separating Blighty from the Americas.)

“Living an hour’s drive from the Canada-USA border,” says Bill Hunter from Stoney Creek, Ontario, “I tend to suffer a crisis overload from America’s ongoing tribulations, e.g. the debt ceiling, the obnoxious Trump, Biden’s age, the abortion debate etc…”

Adds Bill: “To borrow a good Scottish word, it seems the MAGA crowd have achieved their goal – Making America Greet Again.”

  • Goods are bad

COMMERCIALLY minded reader Nicola Munro says: “You know how good a salesman is based on how disappointed you afterwards are with the product.”

  • Flirty furnishings

AN amorous anecdote. “I’m trying to convince my other half we need to be more adventurous in the bedroom,” reveals reader John Mulholland. “As a start, I’ve suggested lighter shades of wood furniture to replace our old dark-wood suite. Hopefully this will result in consensual non-mahogany…”

  • Button it

THE technically-minded Diary recently mentioned an excellent way of avoiding the bilge broadcast on telly: toss a blanket over your plasma screen and stuff cotton wool in your ears.

Former Ayrshire MP Sir Brian Donohoe shows the genius of the political class by informing us: “On my plasma screen, I use a wee button on the remote, and that works too. Much easier.”

  • Food for thought

CONFUSED reader Roberta Tyler says: “One thing that bamboozles me about elephant poaching. How do they manage to get it in the saucepan?”