Big ‘ead Ed

IS Diary correspondent John Mulholland our favourite contributor?

He certainly puts himself into pole position this week with the following poetic offering, which he created by challenging ChatGPT to write an acrostic poem about the Herald Diary’s editor.

Within a split second the artificial intelligence programme provided the following…


Lively words dance upon your page,

Open tales of wit and sage.

Revelling in each diary line,

Nurturing stories, uniquely thine.

Eloquent editor, Lorne,

Jovial tales in each morn.

Active pen, your stories unfold,

Clever quips in ink so bold.

Keen eye on the world's array,

Sonnet of news, in your own way.

On the diary's stage, you play,

Noble scribe, Lorne, hooray!


The Diary intends to have those inspiring words writ large in gold-embossed letters, to be framed in our office next to the oil painting of our illustrious editor. (The one portraying him with wings and a halo, while a humbled William Shakespeare kneels down to kiss his dainty foot.)


A leeky vessel

RECOGNISING that our cultured readers are equal parts bibliophile and bon vivant, we’re combining those passions by devising edible books.

David Donaldson suggests 20,000 Leeks Under The Sea.


Munchable madness

SHOPPING in a Sauchiehall Street newsagent’s, reader Shirley Kilbride overheard a bohemian West End type say to the bloke behind the till: “D’you sell those Lotus Root crisps? Absolutely delicious.”

The shopkeeper replied in the negative, adding: “Lotus Root crisps? Doesnae sound like something Golden Wonder wid dae tae a potato. Even in anger.”


Sounding off

LINGUISTICALLY curious reader Debbie Cuthbertson says: “Isn’t it weird that the three e’s in Mercedes all have a different sound? You certainly don’t have that problem with the mini, where the i’s only have two different sounds - much more manageable.”


Happy families

FACEBOOK went wonky on Tuesday, which proved to be catastrophic for the human race.

Reader Gordon Taylor, who just about survived the outrage, tells us: “During the painful hours that I couldn’t log on to Facebook I stumbled across a group of people living in the same house as me. Apparently they are what is commonly known as ‘my family’. Fascinating bunch of people. Must try to bump into them again, the next time Facebook goes kaput.”

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Stuck on you

“I ACCIDENTALLY passed my husband a glue stick instead of his ChapStick,” admits reader Sue Travers. “He’s still not talking to me.”