IT’S always nice to get something in the post. The diarist, for instance, often gets people writing in offering their observations on the weekly wafflings. They even go to the appreciative lengths of including diagrams showing me where I can stick it. The other day, we received a top-level memo from the powers-that-be here at Herald Towers commenting on the Saturday diary. Well, I think that’s what it was. The paper that the note was scribbled on was still crumpled from being wrapped round the brick it came crashing through the window on. Talking of throwing things, the diarist was intrigued by the news that the noble art of boules is being touted for inclusion in the Olympics when the Games head for Paris in 2024. “Do you enjoy Petanque?” asked the sports editor as he nonchalantly polished his bowls. “I prefer a Chenin Blanc to be honest,” came the response. Petanque was part of the 1900 Olympics in Paris and could yet return. With its rich and varied history, petanque has its own venerated goddess known as Fanny. To win a game without the opposing team scoring a point is a fanny and, in the heartlands of Provence, the losers have to kiss the bottom of said lass whether she’s in the form of a wood carving, a picture or a pottery figurine before getting a round of apertifs in. The cry of “Fanny paie a boire” – Fanny pays for the drinks – can be heard in the cafes of Avignon. Funnily enough, it can often be heard in the raucous howffs of Glasgow too . . .

THE diarist is at Royal Lytham this week and talk of Tony Jacklin’s 1969 Open win here cropped up. “What a corker,” said the celebrated wordsmith and commentator Henry Longhurst at the time as Jacklin ripped a pearler out of the screws with his final tee-shot. Funnily enough, someone muttered a similar line as the diarist attempted to plonk a drive down the 18th during a media day over the stout Lytham links. “What a plonker,” came the informed analysis.

THE man who cried wolf? Peter Davies, 70, has sued Wolverhampton Wanderers claiming he designed the club’s iconic wolf’s head logo. Davies said he drew the logo at school in the 1960s and entered it in a competition at a local gallery. He says he noticed it when Wolves unveiled a new kit in 1979. Davies’s claim is likely to be thrown out. You could say the kit has hit the fan.

KICKING up a racket. Fiery Frenchman Benoit Paire was fined a hefty £12,500 for smashing three tools of his tennis trade during a defeat in the Washington Open which saw him lose the head more times than a spouse of Henry VIII. Paire was sanctioned for “an audible obscenity, unsportsmanlike conduct and a lack of giving best effort.” It sounds just like a normal day in the office for the diarist.

THE parish pump. Back to Royal Lytham and the diarist was reminded of an epic piece of parochial straw clutching by a reporter from the Blackpool Gazette in the grisly aftermath of Adam Scott’s Open collapse here in 2012. The Aussie had the Claret Jug in his grasp until he bogeyed his last four holes. As Scott’s sombre, postround interview shuddered to a downbeat finale, our intrepid Lancashire lad took his chance to grasp for a local line. “Were your parents from Freckleton?” he asked amid great guffaws. “It’s my dad’s cousins actually,” replied Scott. “That’s the best I’ve got for you.” It no doubt filled a commemorative supplement, though.

TODAY is moustachioed maestro John Wark’s 61st birthday. The Ipswich Town stalwart was well-known for his exploits on the pitch while the Scot’s terrific portrayal of a piece of wood in cult fitba film Escape to Victory illuminated his acting prowess. Or didn’t as it turned out. “I only had two lines in the whole film and they were dubbed because they felt viewers wouldn’t be able to understand my Glaswegian accent,” said Wark as he mulled over his contribution to celluloid history. “I wouldn’t have minded, but I only found out when I went to watch the premiere.” Sorry John, can you repeat that please?