~ ANNE! ~

Happy Burns Night yesterday.

British Prime Minister Tony Blair is being shown around an Edinburgh hospital. Towards the end of his visit, he is taken onto a ward of people with no obvious signs of injury. He greets the first patient and the chap replies:
"Fair fa' your honest sonsie face, Great Chieftain e' the puddin' race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thaim. Weel are ye Wordy o'a grace, As lang's my arm."

Tony, being somewhat confused, just grins, moves on to the next patient and greets him. He replies:

"Some hae meat, and canna eat, And some hae nane that want it, But we hae meat and we can eat, And sae the Lord be thank it."

Even more confused, but trying not to show it, Tony moves on to the third patient, who immediately begins to declaim,

"Wee sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle!"

Alarmed, Tony turns to the doctor accompanying him and demands an explanation: "What sort of ward is this, a mental ward?"

"No", replies the doctor. "This is the Serious Burns Unit."

Remkes is apparently planning to make his own haggis from scratch tonight, depending on the availability of a sheep's stomach in Edmonton. I await this with some trepidition. As well, I may try making sticky toffee pud again...