IT’S that most wonderful time of the year, when The Diary rummages under the glittering office Christmas tree and discovers a colourful package, which we hastily tear apart. (We don’t have the moral backbone to wait until December 25th.)

And what pretty gift do we unwrap? Why, it’s a classic comment from last year’s Diary, when one of our observant correspondents described Glasgow’s Christmas market as … Paddy’s Market with tinsel.

And do you know what Glasgow’s Christmas market looks like this year?

That’s right… Paddy’s Market with tinsel.

Be warned, gentle reader, we’re willing to repeat this one-liner every December, until a wee bit more effort is put into Glasgow’s city centre celebrations, and the market starts looking festive rather than furtive (see Edinburgh for details.)

Mind your language

ANOTHER tale from the chalkface.

English teacher Gwen Leishman wasn’t sure how to answer the eager young scholar in her class who thrust a hand in the air and said: “Miss, in which country do they speak Jargon?”

Love… actually?

VISITING his local boozer, reader Ron MacLeod overheard two young lovebirds whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Admittedly, there was very little sweet and a whole lot of nothing.

Fluttering her eyelashes, the gal said to the geezer: “Describe our relationship in just two words.”

The geezer managed to summarise it succinctly, as requested.

“Wit relationship?” said he.

Birdbrained chef

MULLING over the most hideous Christmas dinners she’s endured, reader Christine Spencer recalls one especially abject December 25th.

“My husband insists on preparing the yearly feast,” says Christine, “and he always loftily rejects any offer of help, even though he doesn’t go near the kitchen any other day of the year.

“One Christmas he burned the turkey so badly it had to be binned. Undeterred, he proudly described the festive banquet he grandly laid on the table as ‘turkey plus all the trimmings … minus the turkey’.”

Saucy savaging

A TALE of trauma and tomatoes from Richard Davis in Vienna, who says: “I accidently rubbed ketchup in my eye. As a result I now have Heinzsight.”

Hard to swallow

WE’RE focusing on social media, where traumatised gourmands are sharing their concerns regarding the future of Tunnock’s teacakes, after the company’s profits plunged.

One distraught lady says: “Me and my dog always share a Tunnock’s.”

(The Diary hopes the lady nabs her nibble before the dog gets his.)

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Taking the pescetarian

EDUCATIONALLY minded Hugh Murphy says: “It’s no surprise that there are schools of fish, considering there’s a University of Wales.”