Not now, Bernard

THE name game. Reader Walter Sheffield notes that there are troubled waters pouring over the oil business, for the CEO of BP, Bernard Looney, suddenly and unexpectedly resigned earlier this week.

Getting to the nub of the matter, Walter says: “What a crazy name for a businessman. I mean, who’s called Bernard these days?”

 

Wedded woes

OVERHEARD in an Edinburgh café by reader Heather Biship. One elderly lady said to her chum: “Yes, well. As we all learn eventually, marriage isn’t all sunshine and roses.”

“Indeed,” concurred her friend, nodding vehemently. “A better description would be drizzle and thistles.”

 

Shrieking celeb

MICHAEL, the son of reader Monica Guttridge, recently started work as a barista in a Glasgow city centre café.

Every morning the fire alarm is tested at 8.45am, sharp, emitting a banshee-like bawl.

One of Michael’s colleagues winced when he heard the screeching noise, then said: “There goes Kardashian.”

He then explained that’s what the fire alarm has been unofficially named: “Because it’s really annoying, yet you can’t ignore it.” 

 

Loafing around  

SCOTTISH social media is the place to go if you want learned debates about politics and the arts.

Nah – oany kiddin’.

What you actually get is passionate discussions about thick hunks of bread.

On a Glasgow Facebook page the members have been trying to decide what is the correct terminology for the end slice of a good old-fashioned Scottish plain loaf.

Suggestions include an endy, doorstep, door-wedge, ootsider, ootie, draft excluder and heel.

One thing everybody seems to agree upon is that, what ever it’s called, it happens to be darned delicious – especially with a square sausage and a splodge of brown sauce…

 

The rail deal

TRANSPORT news. “I'm impressed by Kim Jong-un's armoured train, complete with bombproof floor, a bedroom, a large office and an on-board garage for two Mercedes,” says reader Robert Menzies. “Can't wait to see what the replacement bus service looks like.”

 

Half-baked query

WE mentioned the munchable American marvel that is the pudding known as key lime pie.

Reader Michelle Hamilton is not sure that she entirely approves of it.

“I eat a slice on one occasion,” she admits, “and I could certainly taste the lime. But I’ve always wondered, how do they bake the key into it?”

 

Dead end journey 

A GRIM thought, of the reaper variety, from reader Marvin Croft, who says: “As I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I remind myself that you can’t always trust Google Maps.”