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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 |
