<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867</id><updated>2011-04-22T04:54:37.583Z</updated><title type='text'>The Diary</title><subtitle type='html'>the bits that don't make it into the journal</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>153</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-90981544</id><published>2003-03-19T09:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2003-03-19T09:22:35.246Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'> NOT everyone is obsessed with the war, it seems. The complaints log at Scottish Television shows that a lady in Glasgow's west end phoned in to say: "Do you know how annoying it is when you have set your videotape for something and then when you go to watch it, some political rubbish is on instead?" The programme she missed was Holiday Lanzarote. It was replaced with a special interview with Tony Blair on Iraq.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-90981544?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/90981544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/90981544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#90981544' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-86694999</id><published>2002-12-30T12:29:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-12-30T12:29:48.770Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;The Herald&lt;/b&gt; A STORY you may have missed over the festive period. Two airline pilots at Miami Airport got into an argument over a cup of coffee. Concerned staff smelled alcohol on their breath, they were breathalised and found to be over the limit. A passenger on another flight, a Steven Wiese, who heard about the story, joked as he got on board his flight: "I hope you haven't been drinking."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The airline crew refused to take Mr Wiese and his wife, and the police were called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was charged with disorderly conduct, and his case has been referred to the FBI. Further proof, if you needed it, that airplanes are not the places to crack jokes these days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-86694999?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86694999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86694999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_12_29_archive.html#86694999' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-86694964</id><published>2002-12-30T12:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-12-30T12:28:19.910Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;The Herald&lt;/b&gt; DIARY readers might recall that the Oxford Dictionary's quote of the year surfaced in the Diary some months ago, when the George Bush story was told by Gordon Brown at a showbiz reception where he informed a fellow Scot of a G7 meeting at which French president Jacques Chirac bemoaned the economic climate adversely affecting France's competitive edge. A listening George Bush turned to Tony Blair and murmured: "The problem with the French is that they don't have a word for entrepreneur."&lt;br /&gt;Well, who would believe it? The Bush quote has just been named by researchers at the Oxford Dictionary as the top quote of the year by the rich and famous. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-86694964?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86694964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86694964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_12_29_archive.html#86694964' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-86475758</id><published>2002-12-24T11:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-12-24T11:25:15.976Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;The Herald Diary&lt;/b&gt; A CALLER telephoning Direct Line's insurance call centre in Glasgow to make a claim after burglars broke in while he was asleep was less than chuffed when he was being transferred to the right department, and Frank Sinatra began being played down the phone line while he waited. Frank was singing Strangers in the Night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-86475758?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86475758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86475758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_12_22_archive.html#86475758' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-86429542</id><published>2002-12-23T09:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-12-23T09:37:43.076Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/election99/archive/23-12-19102-23-58-17.html"&gt;Surfers looking for the Executive find hard-core porn websites&lt;/a&gt; In April it was revealed that innocent internet users who keyed in &lt;b&gt;www.scottish executive.com&lt;/b&gt; were instead being linked to an escort agency featuring sexy pictures of women posing as secretaries and exposing their underwear. Also, &lt;b&gt;www.scottishexecutive.com&lt;/b&gt; sends surfers to even more explicit pictures of women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Herald rather usefully supplies the links to access the porn - just in case you accidentally get the real Scottish Executive site by mistake !?!?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-86429542?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86429542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86429542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_12_22_archive.html#86429542' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-86156874</id><published>2002-12-17T08:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-12-17T08:23:30.703Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; DUBLIN photographer and muso BP Fallon was a teenage extra in Antonioni's Blow-Up, filmed in swinging London in 1966. He's been on Top of the Pops with John Lennon; played bongos with Led Zeppelin; DJ'd on a U2 world tour. This didn't prepare him for Baird's Bar, Glasgow, though. &lt;br /&gt;Visiting the Barras, BP stumbled across the Hoops' haunt. Fascinated, he whipped out his camera. A large Celtic fan then told BP something he's never been told by any other subjects, who've included Jerry Lee Lewis, Ronnie Wood, Robbie Williams, and Kate Moss: "It's a tenner for my photo, or I'll bust ye."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-86156874?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86156874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86156874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_12_15_archive.html#86156874' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-86156854</id><published>2002-12-17T08:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-12-17T08:22:57.406Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; EMIGRÉ Glaswegian Bill Dunlop is transfixed by a radio advertising campaign in Washington DC. It's for the Salvation Army, with the slogan: "Down the road, it'll do some good."&lt;br /&gt;The Sally Army is calling upon affluent Americans to donate any unused items - particularly old cars. The ad outlines the benefits accruing to generous car donors: "You'll be saved the trouble of selling it. You'll get a tax credit. You'll feel really good about it - except when you're standing at the bus stop."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-86156854?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86156854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86156854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_12_15_archive.html#86156854' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-86116284</id><published>2002-12-16T16:41:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-12-16T16:41:58.830Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://computercontractor.net/article.php3?sid=1002&amp;mode=threaded&amp;order=0"&gt;ComputerContractor - Talk Tech, Eat Tech, Sleep Tech, Be Tech&lt;/a&gt; Thinking of buying a laptop this Christmas? Doctors have warned that laptop computers may inflict burns even through clothed skin. The warning came after the case of a Swedish scientist who scorched his penis after writing a report in his armchair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to the British medical weekly, the Lancet, the fully clothed, unnamed 50-year-old father of two had balanced the computer on his lap for about an hour while he wrote the report at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following day, he developed painful blisters which became infected. Laptop manuals usually advise users not to use the computer while its base is resting directly on exposed skin, as heat can build up if the device is left on for a long time. It’s one way to keep warm this Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-86116284?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86116284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86116284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_12_15_archive.html#86116284' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-86100042</id><published>2002-12-16T08:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-12-16T08:39:07.013Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>WHATEVER happened to your ancient sexist jokes that occasionally started the week, a reader asks. Well what about the wife who arrives home and says to her husband: "There's trouble with the car. It has water in the carburettor."&lt;br /&gt;But he tells her: "That's ridiculous. You don't even know what a carburettor is. I'll check it out. Where's the car?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It rolled into the Clyde."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, a boom boom moment there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-86100042?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86100042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/86100042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_12_15_archive.html#86100042' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-80613988</id><published>2002-08-23T14:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-08-23T14:19:45.566Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This journal's getting a bit neglected - plenty to write about but suffering from lack of time / inclination etc. I'm checking out premises for the company, trying to get a place to live and blah blah blah. Anyway, sorry for interruption to service - back very soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-80613988?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/80613988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/80613988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_08_18_archive.html#80613988' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-80569748</id><published>2002-08-22T14:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-08-22T14:49:24.000Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;This does bring out the five year old in me&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://pages.eidosnet.co.uk/scribbles/images/news.jpg" alt="News" width="807" height="236"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-80569748?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/80569748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/80569748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_08_18_archive.html#80569748' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-80224425</id><published>2002-08-14T09:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-08-14T09:03:03.223Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; TRENDY new bar in Glasgow, Tiger Tiger, which opens this Saturday, has installed strips of sandpaper along the top of the toilet paper holders in the cubicles to stop wilder elements using the surface to snort illegal powders. One innocent checking out the toilets before the opening remarked: "A strip to files your nails on? That's fantastic."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-80224425?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/80224425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/80224425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_08_11_archive.html#80224425' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-79543050</id><published>2002-07-29T10:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-07-29T10:16:04.600Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; BILLY Connolly is the latest hero of the pro-smoking lobby group Forest which explains in its newsletter that Billy was smoking a cigar in a hotel while on tour when he was approached by a woman who said: "Excuse me. My friend is sensitive to smoke. Could you put it out?" Billy declined, telling her: "I'm in the bar. I'm in the bar smoking. If she's too sensitive to smoke what's she doing here?"&lt;br /&gt;At this the woman persisted, telling the comedian that they were expecting friends. Billy went into awesome rant mode and told her: "I don't care if you're expecting twins. You've got every room in the hotel. You've got outside in the garden. You've got next door there, the lounge. You've got the foyer. And you want me to put it out so you can sit in the only room we're allowed to ******* smoke?" Still, good to see Billy's mellowing in his old age.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-79543050?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/79543050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/79543050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_07_28_archive.html#79543050' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-79292727</id><published>2002-07-23T07:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-07-23T07:07:03.556Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; GLASGOW is still not quite making it in its strive for sophistication. Two women sitting in a smart city centre bar this week asked the waitress if she had any nibbles. The waitress thinks about this and tells them she can bring them some of "thae small prune things". She returned with a dish of black olives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-79292727?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/79292727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/79292727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_07_21_archive.html#79292727' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-78679748</id><published>2002-07-08T08:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-07-08T08:42:02.776Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.robinsonmoore.com/schedules/150%2B/3dornoch_way/3dornoch_way.htm"&gt;House for Sale&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Want to make me an offer?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-78679748?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/78679748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/78679748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_07_07_archive.html#78679748' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-78543376</id><published>2002-07-04T08:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-07-04T08:42:23.366Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We have received your order for 1 ticket(s) to:&lt;br /&gt;TRIPLE A ENTERTAINMENT&lt;br /&gt;PAUL WELLER&lt;br /&gt;IN CONCERT&lt;br /&gt;BRAEHEAD ARENA&lt;br /&gt;GLASGOW&lt;br /&gt;WED 16-OCT-02 19:30&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;So something to look forward to at last!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-78543376?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/78543376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/78543376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_06_30_archive.html#78543376' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-78307470</id><published>2002-06-28T10:55:00.001Z</published><updated>2002-06-28T10:55:45.630Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; SEMIOPATHY getting sillier. Ron Mitchell of Rosyth tells us: "I went to the gents' toilet in a fancy up-market hotel. The sign said 'Wet Floor'. So I did."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-78307470?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/78307470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/78307470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_06_23_archive.html#78307470' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-78307463</id><published>2002-06-28T10:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-06-28T10:55:16.756Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; CLEOPATRA'S nightclub in Glasgow's west end has a reputation for attracting women who, shall we say, are more interested in having a good time rather than sitting around posing.&lt;br /&gt;So the shallower chaps in the west end were excited when Cleopatra's put out a poster stating: "Dial A Slapper and we'll send one direct to your door." &lt;br /&gt;There was much talk of how this would save a lot of unnecessary time dancing. So it was good to see how crestfallen the first chap to telephone the club was when he was told that a slapper was merely a wrist band you slapped on in order to get in the club for free. Now that's marketing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-78307463?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/78307463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/78307463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_06_23_archive.html#78307463' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-78307196</id><published>2002-06-28T10:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-06-28T10:37:06.990Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/health/newsid_2067000/2067223.stm"&gt;BBC News | HEALTH | Semen 'makes women happy'&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew it, I just knew it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-78307196?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/78307196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/78307196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_06_23_archive.html#78307196' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-76917992</id><published>2002-05-24T09:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-05-24T09:42:41.200Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Life sucks big time at the moment. I'm not writing it here becasue it's not (yet) for public consumption and I don't want the page to turn into a letter to The Samaritans. See you on the other side !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-76917992?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76917992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76917992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_05_19_archive.html#76917992' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-76851609</id><published>2002-05-22T19:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-05-22T19:36:46.980Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A chap claims he heard at his health club in Ayrshire an older woman telling a younger lady: "Just think of men as being like linoleum. If you lay them right the first time, you can walk on them for 20 years." Surely not. Besides, who bothers with linoleum these days?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-76851609?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76851609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76851609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_05_19_archive.html#76851609' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-76851521</id><published>2002-05-22T19:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-05-22T19:33:58.320Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>AS Star Wars rages round cinemas, The Diary can tell you that the fate of the universe hung on a small sound studio in the west end of Glasgow. Savalas in Woodlands Road sheltered Ewan McGregor, alias Obi-Wan Kenobi, so he could rethink his tactics.&lt;br /&gt;The Glasgow studio linked up with George Lucas at Skywalker Sound to record additional dialogue with McGregor, so that his line: "I'll take the one on the left, you take the one on the right," was re-recorded as "Just relax, concentrate". Perhaps the initial line sounded too much like a Glasgow street fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-76851521?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76851521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76851521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_05_19_archive.html#76851521' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-76508665</id><published>2002-05-13T21:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-05-13T21:03:59.536Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; WITH students sitting their finals, we thought we would dust off the old joke about the student finishing his exams and applying for a job in Safeway. &lt;br /&gt;On his first day the manager hands him a mop and tells him to clean up aisle three. The mortified student tells him: "But I have a degree in social studies."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that," says the manager. "Here, I'll show you how the mop works."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-76508665?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76508665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76508665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_05_12_archive.html#76508665' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-76508607</id><published>2002-05-13T21:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-05-13T21:02:43.366Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; HAVE we finally found an American who understands irony? Let's hope so, as it is too depressing to think this is for real. For our American has started a petition on the internet to have the next Lord of the Rings film, The Two Towers, renamed as the title is an affront to those who lost loved ones in the New York terrorist attack. It does, of course, conveniently ignore the fact that JRR Tolkien wrote the book over 50 years ago. So far, the petition has attracted nearly 4000 signatures. But at least some of the signatories get the joke. One of them wrote: "JR Tolkien sucks. When he got shot in Dallas I really laughed." And another writes that the emergency number 911 in America should be changed because of its associations with September 11. Please tell us they're joking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-76508607?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76508607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76508607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_05_12_archive.html#76508607' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-76468118</id><published>2002-05-12T20:05:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-05-12T20:05:36.923Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; AN Edinburgh business lady was dropping names quicker than cherry blossom in a gale. Rick Wakeman, the keyboard player from Yes, was telling her about the actor, Albert Finney. It seems Finney met a woman at an opening night bash and had one of those mental blanks we all get. Just couldn't remember her name, but thought he had met her previously with her mother, so tentatively tried the opening conversational gambit of asking after her. The woman replied that her mother was very well, thank you, and still the Queen. It, of course, then dawned on Finney that he was talking to Princess Anne.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-76468118?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76468118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76468118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_05_12_archive.html#76468118' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-76297565</id><published>2002-05-08T08:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-05-08T08:26:29.450Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&amp;item=2021047871"&gt;Eh?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-76297565?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76297565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76297565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_05_05_archive.html#76297565' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-76274515</id><published>2002-05-07T20:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-05-07T20:23:02.093Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; Spotted at the Old Firm Scottish Cup final, Celtic fans waving the Palestine banner and Rangers supporters with an Israeli flag. See the Old Firm? See that ability to embrace conflict?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-76274515?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76274515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/76274515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_05_05_archive.html#76274515' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-75466650</id><published>2002-04-16T15:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-04-16T15:50:29.433Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>DIARY reader Germaine Stafford works for the US Navy and is based in Naples, where the base newspaper contained the following advertisement: "For sale, double sofa bed, $40.00 ono. Legs slightly wobbly, mattress hard and lumpy.  Suitable for in-laws." &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-75466650?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/75466650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/75466650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_04_14_archive.html#75466650' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-75214626</id><published>2002-04-09T19:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-04-09T19:26:25.730Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>THE television coverage of the charade which the royal funeral has become has reached the ludicrous and must now be regarded as truly unacceptable. ITN proudly announced last night (April 7) that we were in for a half hour of "live coverage of the Queen Mother lying in state". Riveting or what?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-75214626?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/75214626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/75214626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_04_07_archive.html#75214626' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-11007211</id><published>2002-03-22T14:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-03-22T14:10:21.770Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>SOMETHING to ponder for the weekend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, the French eat a lot of fat and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.&lt;br /&gt;The Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine, and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conclusion? Eat and drink what you like. It's speaking English that kills you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-11007211?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/11007211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/11007211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#11007211' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-10906907</id><published>2002-03-19T20:49:00.001Z</published><updated>2002-03-19T20:49:37.636Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; SCOTTISH group Del Amitri will be playing live at the Virgin stores in Edinburgh and Glasgow on April 8 after seemingly disappearing for the past four years. Singer Justin Currie, tiring of people asking where they have been, now says: "Many people ask me in the street, in the supermarket, in my kitchen first thing in morning what exactly Del Amitri have been doing for four years. We have, to all intents and purposes, been in the pub." He adds that apart from making a new album, they can now make a cocktail out of Guinness, Malibu, and red wine "that will bend your knees the other way". We think that should carry one of those don't-try-this-at-home warnings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-10906907?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10906907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10906907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10906907' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-10906886</id><published>2002-03-19T20:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-03-19T20:49:09.056Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; A POSSE of Strathclyde's finest had arrived back at Prestwick airport after the demo in London on fair wages and conditions for police. A Diary correspondent, who should perhaps remain nameless, is in the queue for the car park machine and notices the cop in front putting his parking ticket in the slot for credit cards, and wondering why nothing is happening. &lt;br /&gt;As his mates take the mickey, one of them says that at least it was not as embarrassing as the other police officer who fed his Prestwick car parking ticket into the London Tube machine by mistake. Now doesn't that make you feel safer at night?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-10906886?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10906886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10906886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10906886' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-10871843</id><published>2002-03-18T22:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-03-18T22:01:46.843Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; AH, the Scots diet. Gordon Kerry of Gloucestershire tells us he was visiting his mother in Johnstone when he saw a sign in a chip shop: "Free Diet Pepsi with every large supper." Healthy eating at last.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-10871843?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10871843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10871843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10871843' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-10871807</id><published>2002-03-18T22:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-03-18T22:00:39.750Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; SCOTTISH group Del Amitri will be playing live at the Virgin stores in Edinburgh and Glasgow on April 8 after seemingly disappearing for the past four years. Singer Justin Currie, tiring of people asking where they have been, now says: "Many people ask me in the street, in the supermarket, in my kitchen first thing in morning what exactly Del Amitri have been doing for four years. We have, to all intents and purposes, been in the pub." He adds that apart from making a new album, they can now make a cocktail out of Guinness, Malibu, and red wine "that will bend your knees the other way". We think that should carry one of those don't-try-this-at-home warnings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-10871807?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10871807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10871807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_03_17_archive.html#10871807' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-10668706</id><published>2002-03-12T21:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-03-12T21:21:34.013Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.cathospital.co.uk"&gt;Cat Hospital starring Frank the Cat&lt;/a&gt; Frank the Cat recovers from his injuries - and becomes a media celebrity!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-10668706?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10668706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10668706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10668706' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-10668402</id><published>2002-03-12T21:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-03-12T21:14:13.000Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>THINGS to ponder if you are a vegetarian. The New Scientist reveals that Walkers smoky bacon flavour crisps say on the packet that they are "suitable for vegetarians" but the cheese and onion flavoured crisps are not, because they contain cheese powder made with animal rennet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-10668402?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10668402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10668402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10668402' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-10668201</id><published>2002-03-12T21:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-03-12T21:06:33.833Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; James Boyd Alexander of Inverness-shire sends a story which he swears is true. A woman goes into a local butcher's and says she wants four Lorne sausages. The butcher points to a tray of said savoury meats and asks: "Are these looking miserable enough for you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Scottish joke I'm afraid&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-10668201?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10668201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10668201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_03_10_archive.html#10668201' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-10525902</id><published>2002-03-08T16:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-03-08T16:23:57.223Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My apologies for the outage today. It was due to problems at Eidosnet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-10525902?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10525902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10525902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_03_03_archive.html#10525902' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-10196620</id><published>2002-02-27T21:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-27T21:46:29.510Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.thebulletin.org/media/022702pr.html"&gt;Current Time&lt;/a&gt; Chicago, February 27, 2002: Today, the Board of Directors of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists moves the minute hand of the “Doomsday Clock,” the symbol of nuclear danger, from nine to seven minutes to midnight, the same setting at which the clock debuted 55 years ago. Since the end of the Cold War in 1991, this is the third time the hand has moved forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Depressing stuff - on the other hand maybe I shouldn't worry too much about finding a job !!!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-10196620?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10196620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10196620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_02_24_archive.html#10196620' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-10000213</id><published>2002-02-22T13:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-22T13:02:07.810Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; The doctor writes: "I saw a woman who'd been in hospital for a routine operation. I hadn't had a letter back from the surgeon so I asked, 'What did the doctor tell you?' 'He said I was going home to die.'&lt;br /&gt;"She looked quite well on it, but I presumed they'd found something awful when they opened her up, so we had a long chat about making wills and pain relief.&lt;br /&gt;"When I got back to the surgery, I called the doctor for more details. He was very surprised - and very Australian: 'I told her she was going home today'."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-10000213?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10000213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10000213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_02_17_archive.html#10000213' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-10000145</id><published>2002-02-22T12:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-22T12:58:53.370Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; JUST to get the SNP's John Swinney even more vexed about the Olympics, the official Olympics website, with news supplied by American company NBC, announced yesterday "&lt;b&gt;England&lt;/b&gt; stuns favoured Canada" in the semi-finals of the women's curling, which will come as a surprise to the all-&lt;b&gt;Scottish&lt;/b&gt; team. Ironic when you realise that most folk in England think that curling is what happens to the lettuce in a pub lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Yes, there is a difference&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-10000145?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10000145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/10000145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_02_17_archive.html#10000145' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9936845</id><published>2002-02-20T22:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-20T22:20:41.630Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; We should have known better than to get involved with horological palindromic moments. We passed on the information that tonight, at 8.02pm, the time and date will be the historic and epoch-making 20:02, 20/02, 2002. Many readers who obviously have astronomical amounts of free time, worked out there have been several such moments. Charles Shaw, of the department of bioscience at Strathclyde University points out that 10:02, 10/01, 2001 happened just last year.&lt;br /&gt;Dr Tommy Fowler, orchestral librarian with the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra, tells us that the next and last time such an earth-shaking event takes place is 9.12pm on December 21, 2112. So contain your excitement until then. Meanwhile, we will leave you with the thought: evil rats on no star live. That's a proper palindrome, with words.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9936845?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9936845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9936845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_02_17_archive.html#9936845' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9936534</id><published>2002-02-20T22:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-20T22:21:10.000Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.thestar.com/NASApp/cs/ContentServer?pagename=thestar/Layout/Article_Type1&amp;c=Article&amp;cid=1014159728401&amp;call_page=TS_Entertainment&amp;call_pageid=968867495754&amp;call_pagepath=Entertainment/News&amp;col=969483191630On-line"&gt;Thestar.com/On-line packrat rescues lost decade of messages&lt;/aIf not for Toronto's Henry Spencer, the history of movies and pop culture on the Internet would have a gaping black hole.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9936534?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9936534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9936534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_02_17_archive.html#9936534' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9730985</id><published>2002-02-14T21:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-14T21:03:25.100Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.nzherald.co.nz/storydisplay.cfm?storyID=939017&amp;thesection=news&amp;thesubsection=general"&gt;New Zealand News - NZ - Hefty bill with added insult shocks Telecom customer&lt;/a&gt; Telecom has ordered an investigation after a customer received an account charging him a "penalty for being an arrogant bastard".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9730985?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9730985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9730985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_02_10_archive.html#9730985' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9585038</id><published>2002-02-10T22:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-10T22:26:47.906Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.newscientist.com/news/news.jsp?id=ns99991888"&gt;New Scientist&lt;/a&gt; The dream of teleporting atoms and molecules - and maybe even larger objects - has become a real possibility for the first time. The advance is thanks to physicists who have suggested a method that in theory could be used to "entangle" absolutely any kind of particle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Beam me up.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9585038?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9585038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9585038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_02_10_archive.html#9585038' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9584993</id><published>2002-02-10T22:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-10T22:24:53.576Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.globeandmail.com/servlet/GIS.Servlets.HTMLTemplate?tf=tgam/common/FullStory.html&amp;cf=tgam/common/FullStory.cfg&amp;configFileLoc=tgam/config&amp;vg=BigAdVariableGenerator&amp;date=20020208&amp;dateOffset=&amp;hub=headdex&amp;title=Headlines&amp;cache_key=headdexNational¤t_row=29&amp;start_row=29&amp;num_rows=1"&gt;Headlines&lt;/a&gt; Leonard Cohen, who has been writing poetry and songs for more than 30 years, should be Canada's first parliamentary poet laureate, according to a majority of Globe and Mail readers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I'd go along with that!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9584993?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9584993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9584993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_02_10_archive.html#9584993' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9454086</id><published>2002-02-06T22:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-06T22:51:59.070Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>STRANGE how language changes. A true story from a Glasgow call centre&lt;br /&gt;which is taking breakdown phone calls for a motoring organisation. The&lt;br /&gt;caller says his car is damaged "after running over a small dyke". Without&lt;br /&gt;thinking, the girl taking the call says: "Is she OK?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9454086?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9454086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9454086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_02_03_archive.html#9454086' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9302063</id><published>2002-02-02T15:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-02T15:14:51.963Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; DO your occasional end-of-the-week jokes get any dafter, a reader asks. Well, about as daft as the chap who goes to his doctor's surgery and tells him: "Doctor, I've eaten something that disagrees with me," at which point a voice emanates from his stomach: "No you haven't . . ."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9302063?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9302063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9302063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_27_archive.html#9302063' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9273534</id><published>2002-02-01T16:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-01T16:47:39.896Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Sex Drive&lt;/b&gt; Our attention is drawn to the e-Bay internet auction site where a chap is selling an unused, still-in-its-shrink-wrap, super-duper computer hard drive. The description of the product ends with: "I originally bought this drive for my wife as a gift. Yesterday I found out why she needs so much drive space. She has been sending pornographic videos of herself to deviants over the web. So I no longer need this drive - or my wife." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9273534?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9273534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9273534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_27_archive.html#9273534' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9273452</id><published>2002-02-01T16:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-02-01T16:45:12.800Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;SPOTTED&lt;/b&gt; in a shop window in Perth, perhaps placed by a disgruntled spouse: "Abdominal exerciser for sale, vgc, hardly used, £15." There then followed a phone number and the telling phrase: "Ask for Fatty."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9273452?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9273452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9273452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_27_archive.html#9273452' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9210017</id><published>2002-01-30T22:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-30T22:46:09.650Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In case you were wondering, "new photos from my party!" is a virus. Don't open it (even though it may appear you're going to www.myparty.yahoo.com). I've received a dozen of these today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9210017?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9210017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9210017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_27_archive.html#9210017' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9171413</id><published>2002-01-29T21:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-29T21:51:06.093Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; TELEVISION presenter Richard Jobson, who has been known to care about his looks, was recalling at the memorial service for Big Country's Stuart Adamson how Stuart had let him join his then band The Skids. After an audition in Cowdenbeath, the other band members had declared that Jobson couldn't sing and had no rhythm. But Stuart demurred. "He has the most important thing - he's ugly," said Stuart, and Jobson was in. &lt;br /&gt;That led to Big Country bassist Tony Butler recalling that Adamson would tell the story that Jobson claimed to have successfully emulated Jimi Hendrix in playing guitar with his teeth. And, after getting everyone's attention, Adamson would then add that Jobson did it by removing his dental plate and using it. Ah, happy days.&lt;br /&gt;Stuart was, of course, a big Dunfermline fan, and the then manager, Jim Leishman, said the band came along to rehearse in the football club's old gym. During the rehearsals Stuart and guitarist Bruce Watson, a fellow Pars devotee, had wanted to try out the team bath where their heroes of yesteryear had celebrated the glory days of the 1960s. Recalled Jim: &lt;br /&gt;"I remember his mum said to me, 'I wish we had that bath when he was nine'."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9171413?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9171413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9171413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_27_archive.html#9171413' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9122120</id><published>2002-01-28T14:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-28T14:38:33.790Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/uk/scotland/newsid_1786000/1786150.stm"&gt;BBC News | SCOTLAND | Power cut as storms hit Scotland&lt;/a&gt; Gale-force winds gusting as strong as 120 miles per hour have battered Scotland, leaving thousands of people without power and causing widespread disruption for travellers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;It's getting worse !!!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9122120?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9122120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9122120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_27_archive.html#9122120' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9116706</id><published>2002-01-28T09:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-28T09:13:27.000Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/uk/scotland/newsid_1786000/1786150.stm"&gt;BBC News | SCOTLAND | Severe weather batters Scotland&lt;/a&gt; The storm-force winds are expected to spread to other parts of the country, with the worst conditions feared in the central belt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;It's very, very windy!! Batten down the hatches !&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9116706?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9116706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9116706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_27_archive.html#9116706' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-9033865</id><published>2002-01-25T12:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-25T12:10:15.516Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A study in Scotland showed that the kind of male face a woman finds attractive can differ depending on where a woman is in her menstrual cycle. For instance, if she is ovulating she is attracted to men with rugged, masculine features and if she is menstruating she is more prone to be attracted to a man with scissors shoved in his temple. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-9033865?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9033865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/9033865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_20_archive.html#9033865' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8976929</id><published>2002-01-23T20:35:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-23T20:35:05.846Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/world/newsid_1766000/1766508.stm"&gt;BBC News | WORLD | Lockerbie appeal&lt;/a&gt; BBC News Online is providing live video coverage of the appeal of convicted Lockerbie bomber Abdelbaset ali Mohmed al-Megrahi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Uniquely, the judges have agreed the appeal can be broadcast. It will not be shown on TV channels or on radio - but BBC News Online will stream it live. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8976929?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8976929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8976929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_20_archive.html#8976929' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8807507</id><published>2002-01-18T07:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-18T07:21:14.690Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.heiferman.com/mcd/"&gt;food folks &amp; heiferman&lt;/a&gt; i was a 20-something dethroned dotcom ceo that went to work the counter at  mcdonald's &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Interesting&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8807507?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8807507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8807507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_13_archive.html#8807507' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8779719</id><published>2002-01-17T13:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-17T13:45:58.053Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://smallworld.sociology.columbia.edu/index.html"&gt;Smallworld Front Page&lt;/a&gt; &lt;b&gt;Six Degrees of Separation&lt;/b&gt; We are a team of sociologists at Columbia University interested in what is known as the "Small World Phenomenon." This is the idea that everyone in the world can be reached through a short chain of social acquaintances. This claim has led to the famous phrase "Six Degrees of Separation", but after more than thirty years, nobody knows if it's true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sounds interesting, I've signed up&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8779719?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8779719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8779719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_13_archive.html#8779719' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8773924</id><published>2002-01-17T07:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-17T07:02:03.173Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; A FRIEND of the Diary in America tells us of the Washington Post inviting readers to assume that English was like French and that nouns should be male or female. they had to choose which and give a reason. Among the suggestions were:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Swiss army knife - male, because even though it appears useful for a wide variety of work, it spends most of its time just opening bottles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Kidneys - female, because they always go to the bathroom in pairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Tyre - male, because it goes bald and often is over-inflated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Sponges - female, because they are soft, squeezable and retain water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Shoe - male, because it is usually unpolished, with its tongue hanging out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Photocopier - female, because once turned off, it takes a while to warm up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Underground - male, because it uses the same old lines to pick people up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8773924?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8773924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8773924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_13_archive.html#8773924' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8742644</id><published>2002-01-16T10:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-16T10:38:17.726Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/uk/england/newsid_1763000/1763211.stm"&gt;BBC News | ENGLAND | Adam Ant detained in hospital&lt;/a&gt; Former pop star Adam Ant has been detained under the Mental Health Act after being arrested for a second time in two days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8742644?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8742644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8742644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_13_archive.html#8742644' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8706413</id><published>2002-01-15T07:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-15T07:16:35.066Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; A WOMAN training for a charity skydive was impressed by the insouciance of the instructor when a nervous colleague stuck up a hand and asked: "If your chute doesn't open, and the reserve one doesn't open, how long do you have until you hit the ground?"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, the rest of your life," the instructor cheerfully answered.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8706413?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8706413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8706413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_13_archive.html#8706413' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8706394</id><published>2002-01-15T07:15:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-15T07:15:31.236Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; POOR Prince Harry, the chap can barely have a swally and a bit of blow, before everyone is having a go at him. We even had someone tell us that his public school has appointed a dietician to help him. Our self-appointed royal correspondent continued: "When asked if a drugs counsellor wouldn't be more beneficial to the upper-class schoolboy's welfare, a school governor replied, 'Not at all. What we're dealing with here is nothing more serious than an Eton disorder'." See what we're up against?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8706394?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8706394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8706394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_13_archive.html#8706394' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8672353</id><published>2002-01-14T07:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-14T07:22:01.363Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; A TEACHER in Dunbartonshire tells us that the staffroom was working out what the school telephone would be like if it had an answering service like BT or ScottishPower. They reckoned the message would be something like this: "Hello. You have reached the answering service of your child's school. In order to assist you, please listen to all options and make a selection: &lt;br /&gt;"To lie about why your child is absent - press 1.&lt;br /&gt;"To make excuses for your child not doing his/her homework - press 2.&lt;br /&gt;"To complain about what we do - press 3.&lt;br /&gt;"To swear at staff members - press 4.&lt;br /&gt;"To ask why you did not get important information even though it was in several newsletters and circulars sent to you - press 5.&lt;br /&gt;"To request another teacher for the third time this year - press 6.&lt;br /&gt;"To tell us your child is an angel and couldn't possibly have done anything wrong - press 7.&lt;br /&gt;"If, however, you realise this is the real world and your child must be accountable for his/her own behaviour, classwork, and homework, and that it is not the teacher's fault for your child's lack of effort, please hang up, and thanks for calling."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8672353?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8672353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8672353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_13_archive.html#8672353' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8476235</id><published>2002-01-07T06:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-07T06:55:58.396Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; A POSTER in the Braehead Shopping Centre urging people to buy shopping vouchers could have been better sited. It was stuck on a pillar in the gents' toilet and proclaimed: "Splash out on a friend."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8476235?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8476235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8476235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2002_01_06_archive.html#8476235' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8397385</id><published>2002-01-04T07:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-04T07:00:10.056Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; THE perils of technology: a husband of dubious ilk writes to tell us how he was trying to explain to his wife how to use e-mail on the new family computer. "Let's say you want to go to hotmail," he said, "you just type in www.hotm . . .," at which point they both noticed that the computer's automatic address filler-inner (we're dead technical here at The Diary) had posited the alternative address: "www.hotmamas.com". The chap's plaintive excuse: "It's just the machine making a suggestion . . ." apparently fell on deaf ears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8397385?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8397385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8397385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_12_30_archive.html#8397385' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8397347</id><published>2002-01-04T06:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-04T06:58:48.086Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; A couple of gems in the New Year honours list. First, is an OBE for Mrs Susan Elizabeth Ion for services to, yes you guessed it, the nuclear industry. And Frederick Plumb was awarded an MBE for services to the water industry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8397347?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8397347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8397347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_12_30_archive.html#8397347' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8367684</id><published>2002-01-03T07:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-03T07:33:08.440Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://users.rcn.com/leviadams/revolution.jpg"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the &lt;a href="http://users.rcn.com/leviadams/quiz.htm"&gt;What Should Your New Year's Resolution Be?&lt;/a&gt; Quiz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8367684?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8367684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8367684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_12_30_archive.html#8367684' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8355211</id><published>2002-01-02T22:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2002-01-02T22:50:07.376Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=""&gt;&lt;/a&gt; A STOCKBROKING chum (boo, hiss, what's happened to my investments?) passes on the 2001 Darwin Awards given to the person who did the gene pool the biggest service by killing himself in the most extraordinarily stupid way.The previous winner was the fellow killed by a soft drinks machine which toppled on him as he was attempting to tip a free soda out of it. He was drunk at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latest recipient is the chap (bits of) found by the Arizona Highway Patrol in a pile of smouldering metal embedded into the side of a cliff rising above the road. It seems he had got hold of a Jato unit (Jet Assisted Take Off, actually a solid fuel rocket) used to give heavy military transport planes an extra push for taking off from short airfields. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had driven his Chevy Impala into the desert and found a long, straight road. Getting up speed, he fired off the Jato, which reached maximum thrust within five seconds, causing the Chevy to hit 350mph. The driver, and soon to be pilot, most likely would have experienced the kind of G-force usually reserved for dog-fighting F-14 jocks under full afterburners. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car remained on the highway for about 2.5 miles before the driver applied and melted the brakes - blowing the tires and leaving thick rubber marks on the road. The car then became airborne for an additional 1.4 miles before hitting the cliff face at a height of 125ft and leaving a blackened crater 3ft deep in the rock. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been speculated that the moron nearly reached mach one, attaining a ground speed of approximately 420mph. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8355211?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8355211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8355211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_12_30_archive.html#8355211' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8297526</id><published>2001-12-31T15:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-12-31T15:38:47.970Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hogmany .... No time for a "proper" update 'cos we're off to friends to see in the New Year in a few hours. So, here's wishing you all that you wish yourself for 2002. &lt;i&gt;Lang may yer lum reek&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8297526?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8297526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8297526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_12_30_archive.html#8297526' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8225488</id><published>2001-12-28T07:17:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-12-28T07:17:00.820Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; REMEMBER when people just wrote "Please Clean Me" on dirty vans? The graffito was taken a stage further on a manky vehicle in Glasgow's Byres Road this week which read: "I wish my bird was as dirty as this."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8225488?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8225488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8225488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_12_23_archive.html#8225488' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8170859</id><published>2001-12-24T21:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-12-24T21:51:46.566Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>To: Cavemates&lt;br /&gt;From: Bin Laden, Osama&lt;br /&gt;Sent: Monday, December 10, 2001 8:17 AM&lt;br /&gt;Subject: The Cave&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi guys. We've all been putting in long hours in this conflict but we've finally come together as a group and I love that. Big thanks to Omar for putting up the poster that says "There is no I in team" as well as the one that says "Hang In There, Baby." That cat is hilarious. However, while we are fighting a jihad, we can't forget to take care of the cave. And frankly I have a few concerns.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;First of all, while it's good to be concerned about cruise missiles, we should be even more concerned about the scorpions in our cave. Hey, you don't want to be stung and neither do I, so we need to sweep the cave daily. I've posted a sign-up sheet near the main cave opening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, it's not often I make a video address but when I do, I'm trying to scare the most powerful country on earth, okay? That means that while we're taping, please do not ride your razor scooter in the background. Just while we're taping. Thanks.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Third point, and this is a touchy one. As you know, by edict, we're not supposed to shave our beards. But I need everyone to just think hygiene,especially after mealtime. We're all in this together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fourth: food. I bought a box of Cheez-Its recently, clearly wrote "Osama" on the front, and put it on the top shelf. Today, my Cheez-Its were gone. Consideration. That's all I'm saying.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Finally, we've heard that there may be American soldiers in disguise trying to infiltrate our ranks. I want to set up patrols to look for them.&lt;br /&gt;First patrol will be Omar, Muhammed, Abdul, Akbar, and the new guy Richard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you lots.&lt;br /&gt;Osama B.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8170859?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8170859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8170859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_12_23_archive.html#8170859' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8159582</id><published>2001-12-24T07:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-12-24T07:23:34.750Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; A READER tells us of a busy Santa's grotto at the weekend where a little chap is perched on Santa's knee rhyming off the long list of gadgets he wants. The old, bearded fellow unexpectedly breaks wind, and in an attempt to save Santa's blushes, the boy's mother says: "Gosh, Santa, you'll have to stop feeding your reindeer baked beans for their tea." Her valiant attempt is spoiled by her son, who shouts excitedly: "Santa farted! And it smells like rotten eggs." Suddenly someone's face was as red as his outfit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8159582?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8159582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8159582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_12_23_archive.html#8159582' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8067120</id><published>2001-12-20T07:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-12-20T07:44:14.220Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.independent.co.uk/uk/this_britain/story.jsp?story=110930"&gt;Independent News&lt;/a&gt; Bid to be a character in an Ian Rankin novel&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8067120?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8067120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8067120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_12_16_archive.html#8067120' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8066543</id><published>2001-12-20T07:04:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-12-20T07:04:29.640Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.laughlab.co.uk/home.html"&gt;Welcome to Laugh Lab&lt;/a&gt; Take part in a huge experiment to find the world's funniest joke! The first set of Laugh Lab results will be announced on the 20th December 2001.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8066543?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8066543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8066543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_12_16_archive.html#8066543' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-8066491</id><published>2001-12-20T07:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-12-20T07:01:24.060Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; * TESCO is one step ahead of the rest of the country. A seasonal bag of chocolate coins bought this week from one of their supermarkets was all in euros&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-8066491?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8066491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/8066491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_12_16_archive.html#8066491' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-7293495</id><published>2001-11-21T14:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-11-21T14:24:58.913Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/uk/scotland/newsid_1667000/1667935.stm"&gt;BBC News | SCOTLAND | Cumbernauld wins carbuncle award&lt;/a&gt; But it was Cumbernauld - described as Scotland's answer to Kabul - which took the unwelcome top accolade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Every single word of this article is true. I should know, I live there !&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-7293495?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/7293495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/7293495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_11_18_archive.html#7293495' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-7288368</id><published>2001-11-21T07:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-11-21T07:58:21.296Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/afghanistan/story/0,1284,602621,00.html"&gt;Guardian Unlimited | Special reports | US raises pressure on Iraq&lt;/a&gt; Hawks in the US administration stepped up pressure on President Saddam Hussein, yesterday by claiming he may have covertly developed biological weapons in the past three years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Guess who's going to be next then&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-7288368?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/7288368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/7288368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_11_18_archive.html#7288368' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-7138101</id><published>2001-11-15T07:14:00.001Z</published><updated>2001-11-15T07:14:43.826Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; A small Nae Luck award to the team of imbibers, customers of a bar called Vivir, in Glasgow, who set out to complete an A-Z pub crawl with a drink at each letter of the alphabet. Stumbling towards the finishing line, they had one in their own pub; went on to the Windsor Tavern; cheated a bit at the Exchequer; nearly got ejected from Yates's; and were distraught to find Bar Zoo had changed its name to the Slid Rock café.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-7138101?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/7138101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/7138101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7138101' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-7138090</id><published>2001-11-15T07:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-11-15T07:14:01.933Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; A Reader prescribed Propranolol by his doctor was struck by the long list of possible side-effects on the leaflet which accompanied the tablets.&lt;br /&gt;These potential complications include breathlessness or wheezing, dizziness or fainting, dry eyes, skin troubles such as rashes or itching, unexplained allergic reactions, heart problems (such as heart failure and heart block), a very slow heart rate, low blood pressure, poor circulation, blood disorders (often characterised by pallor, fever, unusual bleeding or unexplained bruising), pain in the calf muscles, nightmares, visual disturbances, mood changes, cold or numb fingers or toes, feeling or being sick, diarrhoea, pins-and-needles, tiredness and insomnia, severe mental problems, and hair loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The medicine had been prescribed to alleviate the patient's feelings of anxiety.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-7138090?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/7138090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/7138090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_11_11_archive.html#7138090' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6993570</id><published>2001-11-09T15:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-11-09T15:46:24.590Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>God I’m a slacker. No update for …. dunno, ages. Busy busy week. Lame excuse I know, but it’s the only one I’ve got. Then when I do get a bit of time I get drawn to my spangly new DVD player. I’m off to “winterise” the caravan this weekend. Promise I’ll write next week … if there’s anyone left to read it. Have a good weekend everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6993570?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6993570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6993570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_11_04_archive.html#6993570' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6986027</id><published>2001-11-09T07:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-11-09T07:18:29.770Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; * The assistant heidie in charge of social inclusion at Holyrood secondary in Glasgow is Ms Margaret Leyden. One of her duties is managing the school's exclusion room, alias the sin bin. Ms Leyden is now referred to by the darling weans as Sin Bin Leyden.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6986027?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6986027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6986027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_11_04_archive.html#6986027' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6961601</id><published>2001-11-08T07:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-11-08T07:51:26.610Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; A soundbite from Stevenston, one of the cultural jewels of North Ayrshire. A guiser, a seven-year-old lad, is plying his trade round the doors. In return for money and other gifts in kind, he offers the following conundrum: "Why was the washing smiling? Because it was taking the piss out of the underpants."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6961601?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6961601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6961601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_11_04_archive.html#6961601' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6905109</id><published>2001-11-06T07:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-11-06T07:32:33.820Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/entertainment/new_media/newsid_1639000/1639729.stm"&gt;BBC News | NEW MEDIA | Major licensing deal for Napster&lt;/a&gt; The Italian-owned music website Vitaminic has licensed part of its enormous digital music catalogue to US-based file swapping service Napster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Umm, so?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6905109?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6905109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6905109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_11_04_archive.html#6905109' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6905091</id><published>2001-11-06T07:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-11-06T07:31:05.740Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; "LOOK, it's dreary weather outside, can you not cheer us up with an old-fashioned sexist joke," a reader asks. Well, we obviously eschew these things in the Diary nowadays, but purely out of nostalgia, we can, just this once, tell about the woman who walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking around with a rolled-up newspaper. "What are you doing?" she asks. "Hunting bluebottles," he tells her. "Got one male and two female bluebottles so far."&lt;br /&gt;Puzzled, she asks how he knew what sex they were.&lt;br /&gt;"One was on a beer can and two were on the phone," he replies.&lt;br /&gt;OK, end of nostalgia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6905091?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6905091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6905091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_11_04_archive.html#6905091' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6875449</id><published>2001-11-05T07:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-11-05T07:22:00.770Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; A CHAP who has never climbed anything higher than a barstool asks us: "Why do mountaineers rope themselves together?" And he answers it himself: "To prevent the sensible ones from going home."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6875449?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6875449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6875449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_11_04_archive.html#6875449' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6806709</id><published>2001-11-02T07:41:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-11-02T07:41:54.993Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/uk/england/newsid_1632000/1632604.stm"&gt;BBC News | ENGLAND | Marriage prank turns sour&lt;/a&gt; A Bristol University student has lost his girlfriend - after getting married for a joke in Las Vegas. James Cripps, 21, wed another girl he had met just days before. He said he had hoped his girlfriend, fellow student Abi, would understand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6806709?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6806709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6806709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6806709' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6780302</id><published>2001-11-01T08:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-11-01T08:50:09.953Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://education.guardian.co.uk/higher/medicalscience/story/0,9837,544436,00.html"&gt;EducationGuardian.co.uk | Medical science | Why is being a Scot so bad for you?&lt;/a&gt; &lt;i&gt;Hmmm&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6780302?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6780302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6780302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6780302' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6751739</id><published>2001-10-31T07:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-31T07:22:29.193Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; * WE hear of a letter that's just been sent from the White House. It reads: "To Albert Gore.&lt;br /&gt;"Dear Al,&lt;br /&gt;"We found some more votes. You won. When do you want to take over? &lt;br /&gt;"Sincerely, &lt;br /&gt;"George W Bush."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6751739?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6751739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6751739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6751739' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6723198</id><published>2001-10-30T07:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-30T07:14:34.720Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://dailynews.yahoo.com/h/p/ap/20011028/wl/1004274666britain_balloon_lon109.html"&gt;Yahoo! News - Associated Press Photo&lt;/a&gt; Balloon pilot Ian Ashpole on his way to breaking the world record for the highest flight attached to 600 &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;toy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; balloons, near Chatteris, England, Sunday, Oct. 28, 2001.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;What amazes me about this is ... how do people come up with the idea?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6723198?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6723198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6723198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6723198' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6723030</id><published>2001-10-30T07:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-30T07:01:01.440Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; COMEDIAN Fred MacAulay was speaking to some English guests after the Scottish Licensed Trade News restaurant and pub awards were presented last week. They perhaps missed the subtlety when he wished England all the best in the World Cup. "I would like you to go on and win it," he told them, "because I'm fed up seeing it in black and white."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6723030?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6723030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6723030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_28_archive.html#6723030' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6601295</id><published>2001-10-25T06:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-25T06:10:26.650Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.seethru.co.uk/zine/ticklist/war_on_tv.htm"&gt;Are You Watching A War On TV? - Seethru Zine Ticklists&lt;/a&gt; Is that video of Osama Bin Laden on? Is he holding a cheap microphone that looks like it was picked up in Tandy for £9.99, thus giving the impression of a man more likely to break out into an impromptu kareoke rendition of "Loving You Is Easy Cos You're Beautiful" than pronouncing a smallpox jihad on Western Europe?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6601295?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6601295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6601295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6601295' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6577320</id><published>2001-10-24T11:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-24T11:09:33.350Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Happy Birthday to ME!&lt;/b&gt; The countdown to the big 4-0 starts here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6577320?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6577320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6577320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6577320' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6545992</id><published>2001-10-23T06:04:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-23T06:04:45.903Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;The Herald&lt;/a&gt; WE feared the era of witty graffiti in public lavvies had passed, but we hear the art is being kept alive by one exponent in a well-known Glasgow nightclub's ladies' lavatory. "My husband follows me everywhere," it says in one cubicle, beneath which, in a slightly scratchier hand, has been added: "No I don't."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6545992?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6545992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6545992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6545992' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6534091</id><published>2001-10-22T21:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-22T21:21:50.496Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I received a 'phone call this evening from my dear friends at NatWest Card Services. &lt;i&gt;I do them an injustice ... we fell out at the beginning of our "relationship" but since then all has been tickety-boo.&lt;/i&gt; They were checking "security details". Hmm. What they were &lt;b&gt;really&lt;/b&gt; checking was if I had just paid for over three thousand pounds worth of booze with my Visa. Nope. But someone has. My unshakeable confidence in online purchasing has been shaken! A lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6534091?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6534091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6534091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_21_archive.html#6534091' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6426820</id><published>2001-10-18T06:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-18T06:18:52.500Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt;  ONE almost admires the sneaky way that BBC Scotland ensures it doesn't receive too many telephone calls of complaint. In the Glasgow telephone books under British Broadcasting Corporation it announces: "Please see under BBC." After much further thumbing, under BBC it states again: "Please see under BBC," and again no number is given. It surely isn't deliberate is it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6426820?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6426820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6426820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6426820' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6401608</id><published>2001-10-17T09:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-17T09:42:40.233Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Overheard in this office in the last five minutes:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A: I can't (do whatever nonsense preceded this exchange), I'm not in Friday or Monday.&lt;br /&gt;B: Oh, are you doing anything nice?&lt;br /&gt;A: I'm going up North to cut my mother's toe nails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;From anyone else, it would probably be a joke. Not in this case!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6401608?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6401608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6401608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6401608' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6372753</id><published>2001-10-16T06:04:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-16T06:04:23.660Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; SOME stories The Diary had forgotten about are revived in They Belonged to Glasgow, published by Neil Wilson Publishing, which dusts down some of the odder stories from our newspapers over the past 250 years. From 1975 it tells us: "While appearing as a Womble at the Apollo Theatre, Renfield Street, London-based actor Patrick Scola chased a number of men down Clouston Street, Kelvindale, shouting 'I'll sort you out, you Scottish bastards'. His defence lawyer told a court: 'My client is a Womble. He unfortunately forgot that he came from Wimbledon and he drank Scottish beer at a New Year party.' Scola told reporters: 'I've lost my two front teeth and I feel sure I've let the other Wombles down.' "&lt;br /&gt;Happier days indeed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6372753?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6372753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6372753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6372753' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6372712</id><published>2001-10-16T06:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-16T06:01:56.076Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.theherald.co.uk/diary/archive/main.html"&gt;Leaders Page&lt;/a&gt; BODY Shop founder Anita Roddick was unveiling her new anti-globalisation book, Take it Personally, in Glasgow yesterday, and revealed that the book cover had to be toned down as it originally featured a quotation from George Bush. As George once said, before bombing Afghanistan took his mind off things: "One of the great things about books is sometimes there are some fantastic pictures." But, away from the cover, a couple of Bushisms have survived inside: "It's clearly a budget. It's got lots of numbers in it," and the bizarre: "It isn't pollution that is harming the environment. It's the impurities in our air and water that are doing it."&lt;br /&gt;While talking about her experiences at the anti-globalisation demonstrations in Seattle, Ms Roddick said that the FBI had placed the Carnival Against Capitalism protest group on its list of proscribed organisations. "But Carnival Against Capitalism isn't a criminal organisation; it's a pink fairy, it's a man in a dress, it's catapulting teddy bears through the air," she said, adding: &lt;br /&gt;"If the FBI want to infiltrate it, they'll have to go in wearing tutus."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6372712?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6372712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6372712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_14_archive.html#6372712' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6246919</id><published>2001-10-10T22:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-10T22:44:47.000Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=http://www.b0g.org/go.php?sec=articles&amp;id=3&amp;nid=&gt; because you're worth it &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Hilarious cybersex parody ... well, I hope it's a parody&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6246919?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6246919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6246919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6246919' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1727867.post-6211736</id><published>2001-10-09T10:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2001-10-09T10:47:08.930Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://news.independent.co.uk/uk/politics/story.jsp?story=98484"&gt;Independent News&lt;/a&gt; A senior government "spin-doctor" was under pressure to resign after seeking to take advantage of the terrorist atrocities in America to "bury" embarrassing stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I wondered when this sort of thing would appear !!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1727867-6211736?l=scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6211736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1727867/posts/default/6211736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scribblesfromsc.blogspot.com/2001_10_07_archive.html#6211736' title=''/><author><name>Alastair</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06627182663638338054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
