I have been asked (against The Wife’s informed opinion) to give a reading of Tam o’ Shanter at a local Burns Supper this weekend. I accepted (they promised me single malt) and have an important question.
What should I wear? It has been in the twenties for the past two weeks here, so a kilt is right out. Any suggestions?
Not the kilt, unaided, I’d think, lest auld acquaintance be forgot, for that would surely be farewell dear, the joy of joys. And yet, one might wave the quantum o’ the sin, the hazard of concealing, for a man’s still a man for a’ that. So like a red red rose that’s newly sprung in June, your spindle shank a guid whip-lash that’s sweetly played in tune.
Damn. That was awful. Don’t let the awkward squad fire over me, eh?
Gairloch
(Just wear a pair of bicycle shorts underneath, and yer lass won’t need to be nursing her wrath to keep it warm.)
Hey, Doc, do ya think they’ll be serving haggis? If so, allow me to turn green with envy, as I have never been able to find any place that served this delicacy. (No, I’ve never tried it, but from the description, it can’t possibly be bad.)