Groovy gaff

THE scandal involving Labour snaffling up freebies from their best buddy, the very wealthy Lord Alli, continues to rumble on.

We’ll probably soon find out that on Christmas Eve it isn’t Santa who tumbles down Keir Starmer’s flume. It’s Lord A, with a sack full of exquisitely tailored suits, spectacles and expensive dresses.

Forget tangerines and walnuts stuffed into an old sock at the end of the Prime Minister’s bed… that’s not Lord A’s style.

And it’s not Sir Keir - man of the people’s - style either.

We’ve now discovered that the PM’s favourite benefactor gifted him the use of a swanky London gaff, so Son of Keir could have peace and quiet to study for school exams.

Apparently no one considered tossing the lad a couple of cotton buds, with the recommendation that he stuff them in his ears while hitting the text books.

Sadly, the Diary doesn’t get handed any juicy freebies. Instead of gift-wrapped boxes, we receive letters in the post, usually containing helpful suggestions, such as "must do better" and "sack the bleedin’ Diary Editor".

Even a tangerine and nut wedged in a smelly old sock is better than that.

We’re kidding, of course.

Our tales are adored by all, for they are magnificent, magisterial and must-read material, as you’ll discover while reading the following classic yarns from our archives…

 

Food for thought

SOMETHING to ponder…

The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.

On the other hand, the French eat a lot of fat and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.

The Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine, and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.

Conclusion?

Eat and drink what you like.

It’s speaking English that kills you.

 

Dirty dancing

WE heard of the folk on the Orkney Island of Rousay, who held a dance to raise funds to remove the unsightly abandoned cars, fridges and so on which littered the sides of the roads.

Unfortunately, although the dance was a big success, it had to be halted due to a bit of a rammy among some of the young men attending.

The name of the event?

You guessed it. The Scrap Dance.

 

Snooze, you lose

A DIARY reader worked for the US Navy, and was based in Naples, where the base newspaper contained the following advertisement: “For sale, double sofa bed, $40.00. Legs slightly wobbly, mattress hard and lumpy. Suitable for in-laws.”

 

Nifty nickname.

WE heard of a chap called Genie. Apparently, if you took a cork out of a bottle he would be at your side in seconds.

 

Brought to book

A DISAPPOINTED bibliophile told the Diary: “I’ve just finished reading Great Expectations. And, you know what, it wasn’t as good as I thought it would be.”