Anger management

THE rage of the Scottish people is legendary. We become “fizzin’ mad” when an English shopkeeper refuses to accept our nifty notes as legal tender. And we’re “pure bealin” when our favourite tipple is spelt with an additional Irish ‘e’ to become whiskey. (A parsimonious Scot would never be so profligate as to squander an unnecessary letter of the alphabet. We even manage to trim a few unwanted letters from another beloved refreshment, Irn Bru.)

This week David Moyes, the Scottish manager of West Ham United, grumpily blootered a ball that proceeded to boing off a ball boy, proving yet again that the argy-bargy Alba rabble have a fuse that is shorter than Danny Devito in socks.

Steps have been taken to sooth the savagery that rages in the national breast. Labelled the ‘Cackle Cure’, it is a panacea patented by the Diary, which we administer to young and old. The following classic tales from our medicine cabinet will hopefully supply our readers with a furyfree few minutes of fun…