Up in arms

THE Diary recently mentioned that those competitive gangs of seafaring chaps, the Royal Navy and the Merchant Navy, have disparaging names for each other.
Fraser Kelly, from Manila, informs us the relationship between the army and the army reserve was even more fractious, especially during those times when the reserve was called the Territorial Army, or TA.

The regular army would refer to their rivals as STABS. This was not alluding to sharp objects used in warfare, but instead was an abbreviation of Stupid TA B******s.

The TA responded in kind by labelling regular army types ARABS. 
Which had nothing to do with Middle Eastern natives, but instead stood for: Arrogant Regular Army B******s.

The Strolling Bones

WE recently noted that those eternally youthful rockers from the 1960s, The Rolling Stones, are proving to be neither eternal nor youthful.

Once, they ooh’d and aah’d their wicked way into the welcoming arms of easy groupies. Nowadays they are more likely to gingerly ooh and aah themselves into the welcoming arms of an easy chair.

Clearly, their musical repertoire should evolve with circumstances, which is why Hugh Dunnachie, from Sanquhar, suggests Sir Mick Jagger should now be singing: 

“I can’t get no putrefaction …”

Deadly dealings

“IF a Tyrannosaurus Rex got a job manning a stall in the Barras,” muses reader Tim Croft, “would that make it a small arms dealer?”
Wickedly wedded
A LONG-RETIRED primary headteacher recalls hearing a report from one of her pupils on a Monday morning regarding a wedding the youth had attended at the weekend.

“Was there singing and dancing?” asked the heedie.

“Dancing … but no sinning” came the shocked reply.

Out of order

A PICTURE in The Herald of a Boots pharmacy reminds Bill Brown, from Dumfries, of a branch of the store on the corner of Union Street and Argyle Street, Glasgow.
This was where gallant Glesga beaus would often agree to meet a fair damsel for a first date.

Bill tells us there was always the danger of a gal not turning up. Did such public rejection have a name, we wonder. 

Perhaps it was called The Order of the Boot(s). 

Battling bride

WE’RE discussing occasions made difficult by inappropriate musical accompaniment.  
A minister of the Kirk known to reader Moira Campbell had difficulty persuading a bride-to-be that her favourite hymn was not a suitable choice for a wedding.
She wanted Fight The Good Fight.

Trendy type

“WHICH type of vegetable is only partially successful at being cool?” asks reader Wayne Richardson. 
“The rad … ish, of course.”