Horrid Henry and the wives he cut off in their prime

The Herald Scotland

a day ago

In other words, it's a bit like watching a River City re-run on BBC iPlayer.
History is also similar to River City as it's populated by very bad people doing very bad things for very good reasons.
Mark Shaw teaches the subject (History, not River City) and knows a thing or two about ancient times.
He once worked in a Californian school where the curriculum was focused, understandably, on America's glittering (and often grizzly) past.
Occasionally Mark grew weary of reciting tales about George Washington's wooden teeth, and for the sake of variety would throw into the mix the odd anecdote celebrating Brittania's gloriously gory backstory.
Most students were enthralled when Mark told them about Henry VIII and the tragic fate of his six wives.
Though one girl was visibly appalled at the behaviour of England's much married monarch, and couldn't stop herself from shouting out: 'That Henry VIII… I didn't realise he was such a diva.'
Lot of bottle
While studying at Edinburgh Uni, Karen Lawson had a part-time job as a waitress in an Italian restaurant.
A rude drunk once staggered into the premises, flopped down at a table and demanded a bottle of wine.
'What year?' asked Karen.
'I better get it this year,' slurred the drunk, 'or there'll be trouble.'
Road to ruin
While learning to drive, reader Bill Fry had a wise instructor who educated him in the ways of motoring.
This chap once said to Bill: 'If you don't swear while you're driving, that just means you aren't concentrating on what's happening on the road.'
Bedtime story
The teenage son of Patricia Smith was vacationing in Ibiza with buddies.
While the other lads soaked up rays at the beach, or knocked back drinks with fancy-schmancy names at the bar, Patricia's son spent most of his time snoozing peacefully in his air-conditioned room.
This behaviour did not go unnoticed, leading his pals to reward him with the entirely suitable moniker… half-man half-mattress.
Jobbing along
It's been years since Paul Wright retired from a career working in a Glasgow office, though he still misses that feeling of self-worth a job gives a chap.
He recalls one boss rewarding him with a memorable 'compliment', when he said to Paul: 'I go to you when I can't go to my go-to guy.'
The hardest word
'I don't apologise for anything,' says reader Sue Cunningham. 'I'm sorry, that's just the way I am.'