Classy cowboy

THE Diary was sad to hear of the death of country crooner Sydney Devine, a performer with a huge fan base who never took himself too seriously.

It was a longstanding Scottish tradition to fondly poke fun at his musical abilities, though he was also revered in certain quarters. There can’t be many Western warblers who have poems named after them, but Sydney did.

Stephen Watt, Dumbarton FC’s poet-in-residence, once wrote a verse celebrating Alba’s musical heritage. It was titled: ‘Scottish Elements Are Conceived from the Glitter of Sydney Devine’s Tour Jacket.’

The Diary believes Watt’s stirring Sydneyfied ode is our nation’s very own Waste Land… with a few extra rhinestones, of course.

When in Rome…

A FEW years ago Gordon Fisher from Stewarton arranged to meet a pal for beers in Glasgow city centre, with both blokes intent on visiting a watering hole neither had been to before.

Gordon’s friend revealed he had recently spotted a new Italian wine bar which looked promising. “It's called Albarone's," he said.

The two chaps duly met at Central Station, then Gordon’s chum guided him round the corner to be confronted by Scotland’s premier Italian drinking establishment… All Bar One.

Shivery sci-fi

WE’RE devising literary names for those splendid gritter trucks currently zapping the ice from paths and roads. Harry Shaw from Airdrie has two suggestions, reflecting both the chilly weather and the dystopian era we are living through:

Brrrrrrrave New World.

Minus Nineteen Eighty Four.

Rhyme time

TODAY is a special day, as our readers know. It’s the day failed romantics and amnesiac hubbies rush out to buy flowers from the petrol station after forgetting Valentine’s Day. In celebration of this momentous mass apology from muddled men, Sandy Tuckerman provides us with the following verse (not to be taken literally, of course):

Roses are red, violets are fine,

Ah’ve had the vaccine

Want tae come roond, tae mine?

Fighting talk

A DIARY tale set in a Sunday School reminds David Miller from Milngavie of attending a similar establishment where he and his little chums were once joined in song, trilling: "Oh worship the Lord...."

The beatific rendition of the hymn was somewhat undermined when the person supervising the performance screeched in outrage: "Stop! It's not a warship, it's worship."

Boy trouble

WE continue providing alternative meanings for well known locations. David Donaldson suggests:

Killiecrankie = A hatred of women dressed as small schoolboys.

Footering about

CONFUSED reader Tom Bruce says: “If Cinderella’s shoe was a perfect fit why did it fall off in the first place?”