Herald Diary: It's a confusing world when you've never heard of Elvis

The wife was struggling with heavy shopping bags while her hubby, triumphantly lacking in gallantry, strolled next to her, hands-free, apart from the apple he was munching.

“He’s not much help,” said the wife, nodding savagely in the direction of her other half.

“I don’t know about that,” retaliated hubby, with a roguish twinkle in his eye. “If I wasn’t eating this apple, you’d have to carry that as well.”

Name that tune

MUSIC-LOVING Dan Arnott was explaining to his grandson the history of rock and roll.

The young chap, aged 13, had never heard of Elvis or Little Richard.

He was even unfamiliar with the phrase "rock and roll", having only heard of rock music.

“I get the rock bit,” he conceded after much pensive brooding. “But where does the roll come in? I mean it can’t be a bread roll, right?”

The pleasure principle

THE harsh truth from reader Paula Anderson: “When older friends say, ‘Enjoy them while they’re young,’ they’re not talking about your kids. They’re talking about your knees and hips.”

Face off

HOMO SAPIENS have a handy way of communicating with each other, which is labelled conversation.

Though it doesn’t always operate as smoothly as one would hope…

Reader Alex Masterson was on the top floor of a double-decker bus and overheard an elderly couple chatting.

The chap seemed a tad hard of hearing. Or maybe he was just hard of understanding.

Said the lady to her hubby: “Do you remember what’s-her-face?”

Hubby replied: “What about her face? Whose face?”

His elderly wife persevered through gritted teeth. (Which perhaps were false.)

“No, no,” said she. “What’s-her-face. What’s. Her. Face.”

“I wish you’d stop going on about her face and give me a name,” growled the irascible auld fella.

“Forget it,” grunted his wife, and glared moodily out the bus window for the remainder of the journey.

“This spa was very strict about what you’re allowed to wear,” notes reader Craig Murphy. “Luckily they didn’t say anything about wearing top hat, tails, monocle and flippers, which is how I prefer to make my grand entrance into a spa…” (Image: Contributed)

Browned off

MORE transport news. Craig Hardy was on an Edinburgh train and heard a posh young woman, with a voice as irritating as a kid’s TV presenter, chatting loudly on her phone.

With plummy relish she described her schedule for the evening.

“It’s fake tan, moussaka-for-one, chill, then call it a night,” she trilled.

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Driven to distraction

OUTRAGED Peter Rigby tells us: “I got a parking ticket the other day. Not sure why. The sign clearly said, ‘Fine for parking’.”