Rainbow nation

A HISSY fit has broken out in England because the national football team’s new strip isn’t patriotic enough.

The iconic cross is now rainbow-coloured, meaning it has evolved from St George to Zippy and George.

Nobody’s genuinely outraged, of course. It’s not as though the English players ever get to wear their tops for a lengthy duration.

Usually they tug on the shirt, get walloped by some major footballing nation such as Lichtenstein (pop. 39, 137), pull off the shirt, then explain to a commiserating BBC reporter that “we wuz robbed, innit?”

The Diary suggests that our English footy friends dump the new strip and instead wear shirts with a red ‘L’ on front and back, signifying Learners, Losers and Lobbed it over the bar (yet again).

Scotland, of course, doesn’t share England’s sartorial challenges. We always wear blue strips, because it perfectly reflects our emotional state at the end of a campaign.

Thankfully football isn’t our nation’s favourite sport. We prefer bog snorkelling, competitive Fair Isle jumper knitting, and ferocious games of snap (to the death, if necessary).

Another popular sporting pursuit is attempting to get a story in the Herald Diary, which is no easy task.

For each tale must be funny, true and deeply profound, such as the following classic tales from our archives…


Talking balls

A TALE of Scottish footballing excellence.

Labour politician and former footballer, Jim Leishman once told a fundraiser dinner in Glasgow that as a young player he could have signed for Liverpool, Manchester United or Chelsea.

“But none of them wanted me,” he added, “so I signed for Dunfermline.”


Bottle of whine

A BRIDGE of Weir reader attested to the growing popularity of wine among bar patrons.

A new member of staff at his local was restocking the bar’s wine rack when she suddenly called to the manager: “This stuff’s out of date.”

She then showed the puzzled manager the label: “Below where it says pinot grigio, it says 2010.”


Lippy lingo

AN elderly divorcee recalled joining an internet dating website where it soon became obvious that some of the ladies on the database had not been rigorously educated in the tricky art of spelling.

One woman, for instance, had given herself the profile name "Sweatlips".


Bubbly blues

A READER out and about in Glasgow’s west end watched as a lothario at the bar offered to buy some middle-aged women on a night out some champagne.

“Oh, I had a bad experience with champagne, once,” replied one of the ladies.

“We had it at my wedding.”


Red Nose Day

A FEISTY reader once advised us: “Whenever you fight a gang of clowns, always go for the juggler.”