This fellow managed to get hired by a successful landscape gardener who employed lots of casual labourers.
One undergardener fell out with the boss and subsequently found himself deprived of shifts.
Seeking revenge, the furious former employee informed the authorities about the gardening business and its dodgy practices, resulting in the firm being shut down.
A while later, Mike’s pal met his old boss, the fallen gardening supremo, and they got chatting about the old days.
“It’s ironic,” chuckled the dodgy boss, “my gardening biz was closed down because of a grass.”
If the shoe fits…
A fashionista friend of reader Jill Alderson isn’t exactly delighted by the changing of the seasons.
“I hate when summer ends,” she harrumphed the other day. “It means I can’t wear my sandals.”
After a moment’s deep contemplation, she added, “I wish someone would design something as comfy as sandals, only perfect for the rain. Y’know, half flip-flop; half wellington boot… a flippington.”
Choose life
Economic optimist Bob Reid points out: “Despite the ever increasing high cost of living, it remains very popular.”
Food for thought
The wife of reader Ian McLeod used to teach an evening cookery course at a Glasgow college.
She specialised in Italian scoff, which inspired one of her pupils to say: “You’re quite right, avoiding cooking all that Scottish grub. It tastes awful.”
Another pupil, outraged, interrupted to say: “Scotland’s got plenty of decent dishes. What about the fish finger sandwich?”
Ian’s wife contributed her expertise at this point, saying: “I don’t think the fishfinger sandwich was invented in Scotland.”
The fan of the fishfinger sarnie was not to be dissuaded, and concluded with much aplomb. “It may not have been invented in Scotland,” said she, “but it was definitely perfected here.”
Movie mix-up
Overheard in the local boozer by reader Bert Holden.
Two blokes were arguing over who is the biggest movie star in the world.
“Gotta be Tom Cruise,” said the first bloke.
“Rubbish,” countered his pal. “It’s that guy with three names.”
“Who you talking about?” said the confused first chap.
“You know,” said the pal, “Leonardo. Di. Caprio.”
Brill bod’?
Fitness flop Joe Reed says: “My body is a temple. Ancient, crumbling, cursed and probably haunted.”
The Herald Diary is published twice a week – on Thursday and Saturday mornings. Do you have a tale to tell? Contact The Diary on 07375 137824 or thediary@theherald.co.uk
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