The ugly truth
THE Barbie movie, released this week, celebrates all that is satisfyingly superficial. Proof positive that plastic truly is fantastic. (Unless we’re talking about plastic bin bags, which are slightly less than fantastic. Especially when they’re filled to the brim with empty dog food tins, mouldering fish bones and the wilting remains of last month’s pizza.)
But back to Barbie, and her buff beau, Ken. They really are Mr and Mrs Doll-Face.
Sadly the Diary journalists aren’t especially pretty. We’re a crack team of rough ‘n' rugged reporters who could easily crack a mirror just by leering into it.
This partially explains why we wear ski masks most of the time, to ensure that unwary onlookers don’t lose their lunches when confronted by our Quasimodo mushes. Diary staffers also wear ski masks because we’re an internationally-feared gang of jewel thieves in our spare time. (Hey, when you’re this plug-ugly, you need to collect a few extra spondulicks to compensate for the frazzled fizzogs.)
We may not be pretty, but the stories we collect are pretty darned perfect, as the following classic yarns from our archives prove…
Theory of knowledge
WE recall the tale of the university student who missed a philosophy lecture and borrowed the notes of a colleague who was usually thorough in these matters. They contained a comprehensive account of the work of the hitherto-neglected female Greek philosopher, Iris Dottle.
Boozer bamboozled
EN ROUTE to Glasgow Airport, Rod Stewart once stopped off at one of his favourite watering holes, the Wee Barrel in Paisley, and bought all the locals a drink. One old punter in the corner failed to recognise the blond troubadour, but chummily called over: “Thanks son. Did you have a wee win on the horses?”
Faking it
A READER saw a chap at a posh shop’s fish counter, who mistakenly pointed at a large plastic display lobster and said he wanted that one.
Full marks to the diplomatic assistant, who didn’t want to embarrass the chap and instead told him that the smaller lobsters were fresher.
Tipsy talk
A WELL-REFRESHED reveller at a New Year’s party got so emotional after the bells that he contacted everyone in his phone address book to wish them all the best.
An unimpressed fellow party-goer asked: “Was he using oot-yir-facebook?”
Off-colour comment
TALKING posh in shops. A reader was in a wee newsagents in town just before Christmas when he heard the snooty woman in front of him ask: “Do you have a copy of The Browns Book, please?”
Classy response
“A BEGGAR asked me for the price of a meal,” said a chap in the pub. “So I gave him a first-class stamp.”
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