Hey, good lookin’…

THE most startling news of the week is that motorcar aficionado and gentleman farmer Jeremy Clarkson has been voted the UK’s Sexiest Man.

Actually, it’s not that surprising. This is the second year in a row he’s bagged the accolade, which was awarded by Specsavers… oops, sorry, some random dating website.

It makes perfect sense that Jeremy won last year, when he was a sprightly 63 years old, still in the first flush of youth, and glossy as a skittish colt trotting round the stable.

But the Diary respectfully suggests that some degradation and calcification has since set in.

The current iteration of the Clarkston fizzog looks disconcertingly similar to the rubber sole of one of those muddy wellington boots he wears round the farm.

Perhaps it’s not merely surface glamour that makes the broadcaster so appealing.

He has plenty of charm, too, if you measure charm in shiny coins of the realm, stored in a secure bank vault.

Like Clarkson, the Diary has enough charm to disarm even the most jaded reader, as you’ll discover by perusing the following classic yarns from our archive…


Barking mad colleagues

A DOGGIE tale.

A reader said: “A Scottish company I worked with had a Manchester office. One of my Glasgow colleagues moved there and took his pet mutt into work one day. Amid comments like ‘She’s lovely!’ and ‘She’s really friendly’ my colleague suggested that they could ‘clap the dug’.

“At which point they gave her a round of applause.”


Holiday halted

THE laid-back Highland way of life.

A reader was vacationing in Wester Ross when he cycled to the shop to collect his Herald.

“Are you staying at the cottage at the end of the village?” inquired the newsagent.

When our reader said “Yes” the shopkeeper asked him to drop off a few newspapers on his way back.

“Turned out his paper boy was on holiday,” chuckled our reader.


Tourism for beginners

STAG NIGHT shenanigans.

A Bearsden reader on business in Vienna was in the hotel lift with a bunch of English chaps celebrating the forthcoming nuptials of one of the party when the chap getting married was dared to ask the receptionist a stupid question.

Our reader hung back long enough to hear the groom ask: “This is my first trip to Austria. Where do we see the kangaroos?”


Travel sickness

THE grandfather of a reader claimed that Falkirk trams were the most uncomfortable in the country. He recalled a local businessman getting off at Larbert station who said he was grateful that the worst part of his whole journey was over first.

As he dragged his huge trunk off the tram he was asked where he was going, and replied: “Hong Kong.”


Mega moan

A READER told us: “I could go on for hours about my disdain for people who constantly complain.”