All that glitters

IN Brexit Britain our future access to European markets remains questionable. One market we will always be connected to is the Barras. Reader David Zacks worked as a trader in that illustrious Glasgow emporium, where he recalls a bloke in a neighbouring stall selling what he boasted were genuine rolled-gold watches. After his initial pitch, however, this bold entrepreneur would add in hushed tones unheard by customers: “The gold rolled on and it rolled off again.”

Shower scene

DAVID Tennant, whose Netflix drama Criminal is downloadable tomorrow, has an excitable fanbase. We recall the time he was showering in a gym when he received a tap on the shoulder. Swivelling trepidatiously, David was confronted by a man equally naked and wagging a soggy piece of paper in his direction. A determined autograph hunter, in other words. “What do you want me to sign that with?” was David’s first confused thought. The fan, at this point, produced a pen from who knows where, solving that particular dilemma.

Life lesson

Reader Kenneth Chesney hadn’t seen his friend at the golf club for months. Walking the dog one day, he spotted his chum jogging. The huffing-and-puffing pal stopped briefly to explain he'd replaced golf with morning runs as he wanted more meaning in his life. “I don’t know what he was blethering about,” Kenneth sighs. “Golf and jogging are equally pointless pursuits. Whether I’m strolling on the course or he’s racing down the streets, we’re both going nowhere. He just gets there a little earlier than I do.”

Dramatic dialogue

CURRENTLY starring in a Broadway play, actor Tom Hiddleston found himself outperformed by a bawdy female audience member. For reasons unknown, she emitted yelps of ecstasy more suited to the boudoir for the duration of the show. New York’s theatre scene is clearly earthier than Glasgow’s, which is all about the intellect. We recall the inexperienced theatregoers who settled into their seats at the Citizens Theatre to enjoy a performance of Waiting for Godot. Rather spoiling the evening’s entertainment, the bloke turned to his date before the curtain rose and whispered: “He willnae come, ye know. His name’s no’ in the programme.”

Contributors poo-pooed

OUR quest to describe phobias undiagnosed by the medical profession gathers pace. John Mulholland knows of a particularly debilitating ailment he labels diarrhophobia. It’s the: “Irrational fear that your contributions to the Herald Diary will be regarded as crap”. The cure for this pitiful condition is to have your witticism appear successfully on this page. Consider yourself on the mend, John.

Jest joking

OUR recent discussion about clown culture inspired reader, Toby Attwood, to entertain us with a joke of the red nose and flip-floppy shoe variety. “A clown opened the door for me,” Toby tells us. “Wasn’t that a nice jester?”

Read more: 1950-1980: The Herald, back in the day