Saturday, January 26, 2008

Rabbie Burns remembered in Millbrook

Seen above is the "Great Chieftain o' the puddin-race", that's the one on the plate; the other one is The Sump himself shortly before viciously slicing the enormous haggis from end to end and dolloping lovely great loads of it onto our plates.

The Sump and Mrs The Sump hosted a celebratory Burns' night dinner yesterday; many of the usual suspects turned out to hear The Sump reciting Burns' famous poem over a stomach stuffed with sheep's pluck, oats and spices. Here's the man, complete with crib-sheet giving us his (non-Scottish accented) version: Here's the first verse for anyone wanting to read the genuine article for themselves:

"Address To A Haggis

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!

Aboon them a' ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy o' a grace

As lang's my arm."

This carries on for another thirteen verses, but you'll have the idea by now.

The meal was lip-smackingly devoured by Mrs The Millbrooker (seen above slurping at a whisky, cream and oat drink the name of which escapes me in my Saturday morning fug) and by Dong and Shazzerooneypoos who decided to supply their own entertainment during a minor lull in haggis guzzling. No one was entirely sure where Shazzerooneypoos' right hand had wandered, but Dong appeared entirely content with the arrangement:

To go back in narrative time just a tad, the haggis main course had been preceded by genuine "incontinent" soup (that's cock-a-leeky to you and me), prepared by the fair hand of Mrs The Sump. Here she is in classic pre-slurping pose, brandishing her whisky-creamy-oaty thing: Lynny was a haggis virgin (no sniggering at the back, I know it's not a pretty image). Her first mouthful was captured for posterity. She pronounced it "different". Personally I love the stuff. Here's Lynny losing her Haggis cherry:

Immediately after a scrummy puds of raspberries, cream and whisky (there may have been some oats in there never know with these Scottish types) the more liquid stage of the proceedings was conducted in the comfy chairs of Sump Towers' living room. A fine Glenmorangie was proffered up for ritual sacrifice down the gullets of the Millbrook glitterati.

It wasn't long before the now famous Commissar's hat was passed around and tried on by Richie "comb-over" Meeson as Lynny took plenty of flak for attempting to forbid his own purchase of such a fine head covering. It turns out that The Sump has one of his own; his is the real deal and made of proper fur. I think he got it by bribing a Soviet agent during his MI5 days when he was known only by his code name "ABV45". Or something like that.

Many thanks to our wonderful hosts - Mrs The Millbrooker and I were marvellously stuffed to the gunwhales with excellent Scottish fare and, as always, a lot of laughs were had by all. I'm also insanely jealous of The Sump's coolest-nutcracker-in-the-world, seen below in action shot as operated by Lynny:

Altogether now: I'll tak tha high rood and you tak tha low rood......

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