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Haggis O’ the World Unite!
Our thanks to Janice Richardson for sending this in


Noo, whit maks a man that widnae hurt a flea become a vicious bloodthirsty monster?  They’re fiends, these Scots.  They’d dae onything tae get their hauns on a haggis!  An’ where can a respectable haggis hide?  Ah’m a chieftain, efter a’.  It’s no’ richt fur me tae be scurrying aboot closes or doon dunnies.  You micht think that’s funny.  D’ye no’ think we’ve got feelings?  Hiv ye ever looked at it frae the haggis’ point of view?  It’s bad enough getting chased a’ ower the place till they catch ye.  But then, they lull ye intae a false sense o’ security.

They cairry ye in, for a start.  Guest of honour.  Escorted by a piper like the chieftain ye are.  They even sit ye at the tap table.  Then they hiv the cheek tae toast your sonsie wee face!  An’ when ye’re ready to hiv a wee dram yersel’ – oot comes the knife!  So ye sit there, glaikit like, lookin’ aboot ye fur the silverside and roast chicken.  Then it dawns on ye at last – you’re the main course!  Whit sleekit mind ever thought up sic a thing?  Wan slice and yer rich reekin’ innards are spillin’ oot a’ o’er the table.

We hive tried to fight back.  We’ve tried tae put ‘em aff us for a start.  Ah mean, d’ye think onythin’s naturally this colour?  Naw.  Haggis scientists worked night and day to find just the right disgusting shade.  And whit aboot the stuff we’re made o’?  Any self-respecting gourmet wid throw us oan the midden.

Everywhere else in the world, it works!  The very sicht o’ haggis is enough tae scunner them.  So, whit is it wi’ the Scots?  The worse we look, the mair vile we taste, the mair they seem tae enjoy us.  Mind ye, they’ve got tae hiv quite a few wee drams in them first!  But how long can this go on afore they wipe us from the face o’ the earth?

Well, if Ah survive, Ah’m taking oor case tae court.  Haggis o’ the world unite.  Make Scotland safe fur haggis.  And id that disnae work, maybe we haggis will hae the last word and haud a Burns supper oorsels.  Ah hear humans are verra tasty!

An excerpt from The Sunday Post, January 24, 1988


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