Monstrous missive

HUGE news! Evidence the Loch Ness Monster exists.

And this time it’s not just a blurry photo.

It’s a blurry noise.

A sonar reading was taken by a boat probing the dark waters, and it picked up a "distinct anomaly" on the loch bed.

The Diary, however, is not persuaded. Especially after receiving the following letter from Nessie herself…

Dear Diary,

I can neither confirm nor deny the rumours of my existence. Though I am willing to say: Seriously, folks. Wit are the chances, eh? A big prehistoric fish lurking in a freezing cold loch, just paddling about all day. No Netflix, no jacuzzi, no bubble-bath.

Surely a more credible scenario is the loch has been infested by a family of skinny-dipping yeti.

In conclusion: I ain’t here. So stop keekin’ at me, you bunch of Peeping Tams. (And Tammettes. I’m not letting you gals off without a caution.)

P.S. Stop calling me a "distinct anomaly". That’s very rude and doesn’t bolster my already fragile ego.

Yours sincerely

Big N.

So there you have it, faithful reader. Persuasive evidence, from Nessie herself, that she doesn’t exist.

Does this mean there’s no magic in the world? Not at all.

Every day the Diary provides you with tales of wonder and awe, including the following classic tales from our archives…

 

Wheely crafty

A FEW years ago a chap was enjoying a pint and watching the pub telly, where speedy Scottish racing car driver David Coulthard had just won the Monaco Grand Prix.

This fellow turned to his mate, and said: “Fantastic win, isn’t it?”

His pal merely shrugged, then said: “I suppose so. But Coulthard stays in Monaco. He’ll know the roads.”

 

Table talk

A FRUSTRATED reader once got in touch with a curious request, saying: “I tried playing snooker this week and kept miscuing. Anyone got any tips?”

 

Slippery slope

THERE was a curling rink where a game old chap of 85 was playing.

His eyesight wasn’t the best, so his skip held a flashlight on his broom handle to give the auld fella the line for the shot.

A chap, watching from the next rink, was heard to mutter: “If I was 85 and saw a bright light ahead of me, I’d turn and go the other way.”

 

Brought to book

THE late, great Glasgow author Alasdair Gray once strolled into a Glasgow West End bar for a drink and noted that a row of books were on a shelf as part of the pub’s decoration.

It was only when he was thumbing through one of the volumes that a member of staff shouted: “Those books are not for reading.”

Dangerous thing that literature.

 

Weighty tome (not)

BOOKS, continued.

A reader once told us she was reading a book about anti-gravity.

“I can’t put it down,” she added.