Uncharitable
COATBRIDGE doctor Simon Connolly put a poster up in his waiting room seeking sponsors for his 300-mile cycle across Europe to raise money for the landmine charity MAG.

He hadn't quite anticipated the entrepreneurial acumen of one of his patients who took the poster down, and went round doors collecting - on behalf of himself, not the doctor.

The Waverley surgery was only tipped off when the mother of a receptionist was suspicious of a chap with a limp at her door asking for cash.

Next day police caught him in the next street. Fortunately, he had conscientiously noted the names and addresses of donors, which helped their inquiries considerably.

Anyone who would rather sponsor the cycling doc rather than a limping conman, can find Simon's sponsorship page at www.mag.org.uk/page.php?s=1&p=12332.

Panic station
SOMEONE not quite clear on the concept of panic buying was the chap we overheard who declared: "I didn't see any panic buying. I was in the garage three times over the weekend, and there was no problem filling up."

Apple of his eye
THE late Humphrey Lyttelton will be sadly missed from Radio 4 where his deadpan, but always courteous, delivery hid some of the most excruciating doubles entendres ever to be uttered on the sedate BBC.

He once said of his fictitious assistant, Samantha: "She has to nip off to the National Opera where she's been giving private tuition to the singers. Having seen what she did to the baritone, the director is keen to see what she might do for a tenor."

Not so sharp
WE hear about the Lanarkshire guy, not the brightest, having a night out with his mates in The Palace in Hamilton. He went off to the loo, where he spotted his best mate snogging the face off the dim chap's girlfriend.

The guy went back to the rest of his mates, chuckling, and told them: "Davey's so blootered, he thinks he's me!"

Mistaken identity
OH, the joys of Highland Games in America. Alex Henderson from Edinburgh was at the Sacramento Highland Games in California at the weekend when he spotted one chap in full Highland attire, large feathers sticking out his bonnet, carrying a silver-handled walking stick, who could pass for the Laird of Invercockaleekie, or whatever.

"How's it goin', Jimmy?" asked Alex.

"My name's not Jimmy," he replied tersely in an American accent.

"Aye, and you're not from Scotland either," mused Alex before carrying on.

Well read
SIGNING his novel The Big J at Borders in Glasgow on Saturday, Dundee writer Andrew Murray Scott recognised the face coming towards him. Sensing a sales opportunity, but unable to remember the name, Andrew, an SNP press officer, blabbed: "You're in politics? So am I."

That's when Bruce Millan, former Secretary of State for Scotland and former European Commissioner, confirmed that he had indeed been in politics - and bought the book.