DRAMA student Anna Jackson spent her summer, as most undergraduates probably do, learning to make balloon animals. We should add that this was no idle amusement, but vocational training. Anna, working in a restaurant at the time, was charged with entertaining young patrons with her beguiling balloon-bending abilities. Sadly her early efforts weren’t up to scratch, and some of her balloons looked like… balloons. Then there was the sausage dog with no legs. “It’s a deel,” said Anna, handing the bizarre creation to a confused child. “What’s a deel?” enquired the youngster. “Half dog, half eel,” improvised Anna. “Very big in Greek mythology.”
A TRAIN conductor gets in touch to tell us about the passenger who hopped from his carriage a stop early, just managing to bound back on before the doors slammed. “That was close,” said passenger to conductor with a relieved grin: “It was almost a case of premature evacuation.”
ON social media comedian Frankie Boyle has been articulating that unique and intimate bond that exists between politicians and the electorate. “I hate it when the press use the phrase ‘heartlands’ to describe parts of the country where particular sets of politicians are, more accurately, least despised,” he says.
Moth or Goth?
THE Herald report about an epidemic of moths winging their way towards Scotland has Ricky Gardner, from Abington, in a flutter. “Moths look like butterflies, but only come out at night,” says Ricky. “Does this mean they’re actually (insert scary music here) vampire butterflies?” Ricky, of course, is being irrational and unscientific. Moths aren’t vampire butterflies. They’re butterfly goths pretending to be vampires. And, no doubt, like most goths, they probably grow out of their questionable taste in music, fashion and black lipstick once they hit puberty.
YESTERDAY’S yarn about popstar Lulu evolving into an embarrassing granny reminds Linda Jacob of the time her two-year-old granddaughter got the better of her. Linda, furious that she was late for an appointment, trundled the toddler’s pushchair along the pavement while muttering loudly and bitterly to herself. The toddler, having had quite enough of this negative energy, said to grandma in a sweet voice: “I’ve an idea. Why don’t we see who can stay quiet the longest?” Grandma agreed to the ruse, and silence ensued.
ENDING on whimsical note, Maryhill reader Jackie Blackford wonders if claustrophobic people are better at thinking outside the box.