Calling the banks bastards is a tired cliche,until you witness their bastardry up close.
Surveying the deaths and funerals notices in Saturday’s Herald tells us much how,when the inevitable comes,we still value love and friendship above all.
While barflies can’t get enough rope.
And get a load of that Toyota Reflux.
Loch that offer in.
Barnaby resorts to the Holy Hand Grenade.
The selfie craze has created a lawless tourist who breaks rules,ignores warnings,jumps fences and is only interested in one thing.
These days,it seems,we all want to die painlessly in our sleep,preferably unexpectedly with no suffering beforehand.
I vowed to protect my children from suffering and pain,but how could I say no to bringing such a gorgeous creature into our lives?
Escalating funeral costs have thrown a spotlight on cheaper,simpler ways to farewell loved ones.
Of course,I miss the walks on the beach,the wrestles over sticks and even the eye-watering farts,but it’s the physical absence around the house that is so pronounced.