John Gibson: The panda bit – is it all a kid-on?

Yang Guang. Picture: Phil Wilkinson
Yang Guang. Picture: Phil Wilkinson
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We’ve all been there before. Can’t eat. Can’t sleep. The not-tonight-dear-I’ve-got-a-headache scenario. Doubtless it’s happened to you and I see now that Yang Guang’s got it bad. The stress of possible imminent fatherhood.

We’ve all been there before. Can’t eat. Can’t sleep. The not-tonight-dear-I’ve-got-a-headache scenario. Doubtless it’s happened to you and I see now that Yang Guang’s got it bad. The stress of possible imminent fatherhood.

Well, I’ve never believed the crowd-pulling bulletins from Edinburgh Zoo. Not for a minute. Persistent propapanda on a grand scale – reminiscent of Ribbentrop if I can take you that far back.

The artificial insemination bit. Was she, Tian Tian, “up the duff”, as they say in China’s bamboo shoots and leaves restaurants?

All credit, though, to the zoo’s experts. The nail-biting palaver has gone on endlessly and it’s been a real money-spinner while it lasted. If, perchance, there’s been a birth as I type, beat me not with your rhythm stick, with your souvenir bamboo stick rather.

Blue-eyed boy

Like father, like son. Is it too much to hope for, that Ronan Farrow, 25-year-old blue-eyed boy, is the son of Frank Sinatra and Mia Farrow? That he looks like, a dead ringer in fact, the young Frank there’s no denying.

But at some point in the future, will he have the great talent to be able to sing like his dad? Even remotely? At the centre of it all, a right stramash, a jazz clarinettist, one Woody Allen. It would make a emorable movie. Woody must be longing to play the lead.

Afterwords . . .

. . . An old one. But a good one. We have Engelbert Humperdinck moping resignedly about fans throwing their smalls at him on stage: “It’s such a waste of time. None of it fits me.” The Hump is 77.