For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.
--The Tay Bridge Disaster, William McGonagall
Yesterday Chris Hunt, creator of the lipsmacking-good McGonagall Online (oh, go ahead and give it a look--I'll wait for you) stopped by and added a very interesting comment to my Septemer 29, 2005 post, which happens to be one of my favorite blog entries. Even if you read the post two months ago, I urge you to read it again and enjoy another good belly laugh about the best bad poet of all time, Scotland's* breathtakingly clueless William McGonagall.
Be sure not to miss Chris Hunt's comment, which wraps everything up nicely by answering a couple of questions I brought up in my post.
*At the risk of offending any Scots readers who might stop by, that country has a lot to answer for. McGonagall's poetry has an "ick" factor exceeded only by haggis.
5 comments:
I don't know if the Scots still hold the title of "The Nation on Earth Whose People Eat the Fewest Servings of Veggies Per Day"--which they actually DID hold some years back--but if they do, the lack of roughage would go a long way to explaining the bad poetry. Constipation nixes inspiration. :)
And do they still fry up Mars candy bars? :::shudder::::
But their men are blessed with one of the sexiest (if often unintelligible) accents on planet Earth. And they did, after all, give us The Seanster. And an excuse for Mel Gibson to wear a skirt...er...kilt. Two big yums up.
Mir
Yea, but what did Mel have on, under that skirt...uh, er kilt!
Haggis always makes me want to retch!
And your right, Brenda...it did make me laugh. Yikes!
Ladies! Constipation, inspiration, kilts and haggis.
I think I will focus on the Seanster and forget y'all said that.
Camy
Hey, what's with all the haggis-knocking guys? ;-) I happen to love it with neeps and tatties* (on occasion -- wouldn't want to eat it on a regular basis, for fear that I would find myself, well, not regular).
* mashed turnips and mashed potatoes. Go on, try it. You know you're dying to.
I've always wondered, Neal, if Scots actually eat haggis, or if they just feed it to gullible tourists.
You put some hunky guy in a kilt, squeeze a bagpipe or two while somebody drags in a platter of haggis, and about the time a susceptible person like our Mir sees Hunky-Guy-in-a-Kilt pull out his dirk to slice the haggis, she'd be on the verge of a swoon and willing to eat anything, even that awful offal.
The Scots are laughing at us, I know they are.
Post a Comment