House rules

THE Diary was sad to hear of the recent death of David Soul, possibly the most glamorous person to ever utter the phrase: “Grab some air, sucker! I’m taking you down town.”

Soul provided a slick American alternative to Dixon of Dock Green in the ultimate 1970s cop show, Starsky & Hutch, where he played Hutch.

The only thing hipper than Hutch was Starsky’s car, and the chunky cardigan Starsky wore when he and his partner patrolled the mean streets of Bay City, California. (The Diary always assumed that Starsky’s cardigan wasn’t merely a fetching fashion accessary, but was, in fact, bulletproof. Slugs of hot lead would have ineffectually pinged off its tightly knitted surface.)

Reader Colin Hamilton adored Starsky & Hutch as a child, though his dad wasn’t a fan, and once muttered while watching it: “Why does everyone think Hutch is cool? You can’t be cool if you’re named after a rabbit house.”

 

Sticky situation

VISITING a Glasgow bar at the weekend, reader Debbie Clarke was just leaving the washroom when she overheard two tipsy debutantes chatting while applying their makeup.

“Dae Ah look aw right?” said one debutante, as she primped her hair and scrutinised the effect in the mirror.

In a commiserating tone, with just a hint of malice, her friend replied: “Aw, darlin’. Ah don’t know wit you’ve put oan it, but yer hair looks like you bought it at a fairground oan a stick.”

 

Chocs away

A PHILOSOPHICAL thought from reader Graham Easton: “Some people claim their wedding was the best day of their lives. I’m guessing they’ve never had two chocolate bars fall out of a vending machine simultaneously.”

 

Aboot the hoot

ON a Glasgow bus, reader Alastair MacRae overheard two elderly ladies chatting.

“Wit did ye dae fur New Year?” one of them asked.

“Same as always,” replied the other. “Watched Jools Holland’s Hootenhingmy.”

“Oh, I love Jools’ Hootenhingmy,” beamed the first lady.

 

Monetary mopes

SELF-EMPLOYED John Munro from Eaglesham is currently trapped in his office struggling to complete his income tax forms, soon to be grudgingly delivered to HMRC.

Says John: “Apparently the golden rule is that the Government gets to keep all my hard-earned dosh. Though I get to keep my self-respect and the shirt on my back. (Though not the shirt on my front. That also goes to the Government.)”

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Toilet humour

“I DREAMT that my spirit arose from a toilet bowl,” says reader David Osborne. “It was an out-of-potty experience.”