Discussion in 'Diamond Lil's' started by thingy, Jan 24, 2008.

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  1. Of course. Do not believe these policicians!

  2. How do I know, I am only a Scot! Now sod off...

    0 vote(s)
  3. He's quite right, Haggis are a creation!

    0 vote(s)
  4. WTF

    0 vote(s)
  1. I've been deeply shocked to learn, in an EDM tabled yesterday by Alistair Carmichael MP, that haggis isn't farmed at all, but is an artifice of the butchering profession..... o_O :confused:


    Please tell me someone, that it ain't true! :cry:
  2. Does this answer your question? It makes nae sense to me!

    To a Haggis

    Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
    Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
    Aboon them a' yet tak your place,
    Painch, tripe, or thairm:
    Weel are ye wordy o'a grace
    As lang's my arm.

    The groaning trencher there ye fill,
    Your hurdies like a distant hill,
    Your pin was help to mend a mill
    In time o'need,
    While thro' your pores the dews distil
    Like amber bead.

    His knife see rustic Labour dight,
    An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
    Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
    Like ony ditch;
    And then, O what a glorious sight,
    Warm-reekin', rich!

    Then, horn for horn, they stretch an' strive:
    Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
    Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
    Are bent like drums;
    Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
    Bethankit! hums.

    Is there that owre his French ragout
    Or olio that wad staw a sow,
    Or fricassee wad make her spew
    Wi' perfect sconner,
    Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
    On sic a dinner?

    Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
    As feckles as wither'd rash,
    His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
    His nieve a nit;
    Thro' blody flood or field to dash,
    O how unfit!

    But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
    The trembling earth resounds his tread.
    Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
    He'll mak it whissle;
    An' legs an' arms, an' hands will sned,
    Like taps o' trissle.

    Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
    And dish them out their bill o' fare,
    Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
    That jaups in luggies;
    But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer
    Gie her a haggis!
  3. I am sorry that it is slightly true! Haggii (plural) have to be shot with a silver bullet :dwarf: There are two species, the normal two legged and their cousins who have two short legs on one side and two normal legs on the other :whew:
    That is for them to remain upright on the Scottish hills :farao:
  4. Booties?
  5. And what, precisely, is NORMAL in this context?

    I suppose that if you can get them to change direction they fall over and are easy to catch.
  6. It is a well known fact that the best haggis are bred in Yorkshire. They are usually fed corn and left over pigs tripes and to give them that truely haggis flavour they get any left over Yorkshire Clacker, fortunately there is not a lot of this, too much would be too rich and strong for them.

  7. It's perfectly true that they have two legs shorter than the others, however the male and females differ in that the male has two short left legs and the female has two short right legs. This means that when they walk around the hills they travel in opposite directions. They rarely meet but when they do meet it is face to face. As you all know quadrupeds cannot normally copulate face to face, they preffering it 'doggy fashion'. What happens is the female attempts to turn arond and 'present herself' to the male, this causes her to fall arse over tit. At this stage the male engages her in the 'missionary position' which is quite unusual for four legged creatures. Now this is the important bit if, and only if, they climax togetherthen they rise up into the air together and this is where said silver bullet comes in. When you shoot them all there hair falls off.

    Take the brace home boil twenty minutes......Throw out window as it tastes like SHIT....... :pukel: :pukel: :pukel:
  8. Attended the Dubai Caledonian Society Burns Supper last....they served Haggis....with fcuking GRAVY!!!!!!!!!!!!
  9. Bit of a bugger for them when they have to change direction, too :dwarf:
  10. Attended the Sportsman Bar's Burns Supper in Singapore last night and it was excellent.

    Only problem was that there was not enough Haggis and Neeps. They were served as an "in between" course which consisted of a teaspoon of haggis, neeps and tatties, beautifully presented a la nouvelle cuisine style.

    Great evening though and met an ex-aircraft handler who said he had served on EAGLE, VICTORIOUS, CENTAUR and ARK ROYAL.

  11. The Legendary Haggis


    A strange and eerie sound drifts slowly down the glen, uisge beatha! uisge beatha! The sun is peeping over the horizon but none can feel the warm rays through the swirling mist. The men are huddled by the traditional "siggah" rock, chanting and taking turns at the cask with the warm golden water of life.

    Suddenly, a tracker appears on the heathery slope and calls "haggi! haggi!" In a flash, the men are up and running, spreading out in the ancient hunting pattern which each had learned as a boy. Catching a wild haggis, in these days of scarcity, would make a living legend of the team involved.

    The most difficult part of the ancient art of haggis hunting is actually locating the beast and then chasing it in the right direction. The haggis has evolved to be just a bit faster than the fittest man and more sure footed than a mountain goat. It runs along the hillside using it’s two long legs and the one short leg to maximum advantage. Once it slips through the hunting line it can be gone into the gorse in a flash. The hunters must keep behind and on the uphill side so that the haggis is gradually driven down to lower ground. This can take over three hours, but once the critter is down on the glen floor the advantage swings quickly in favor of the hunters – because of its uneven legs the haggis can only run in circles when on flat ground.

    As soon as the hunters see a haggis circling in this fashion they surround it, and bring up the cask for celebratory refreshment. Within about twenty minutes the haggis can be found lying flat out through dizziness and exhaustion. Soon after that the men are usually found lying flat out around the haggis, with an empty cask rolling amongst them!


    The snowflakes flutter and crash against the kitchen window as the high pitched sounds of chattering women escape out into the white haze. Inside the stove gives warmth to the grizzly scene – hearts and livers being chopped up with gay abandon. At first glance a stranger might think they’d stumbled on a covey of witches practising an ancient craft. Of course, the knowledgeable Scot would know that this is the initial ritual in the ancient art of haggis preparation. Then comes more chop-chopping and in goes the suet and the onions…and what’s left of the sherry — no, the whisky goes in the haggis and the sherry goes to the cooks.

    Then the aroma of roasting oatmeal wafts it’s way into the air and causes a few smiles as it replaces the previous odor. Along with some vegetable stock and seasoning, the strange mixture is packed into some unfortunate ewe’s stomach (or a sausage skin if the sheep were clever enough to avoid those nice ladies). After boiling for three hours the concoction begins to resemble a haggis and, at this point, a fresh bottle of sherry appears and disappears.....the women giggle louder and louder as they convince themselves that their spell has been successful. They actually believe that they spirited the creation of a haggis while the men were still out, bonding around the "siggah" rock.

    How did this ritual come to pass? Well, ever since the redcoats came north and shot everything on sight, wild haggis have been almost extinct. Some clever women knew that it troubled the men to go on a haggis hunt and come back empty handed....so, the substitute was created. On those bleak, misty, hunting days the women would wait till the whisky cask was empty and then go and quietly place their "haggis" in amongst the snoring hunters.

    Of course, for decades, it was a well-kept secret with only an occassional wink as the men returned triumphant... "haggis" in-hand, and ready for roasting. Tatties (potatoes) and neeps (rutabaga) would be taken from the special store and boiled just right, as the haggis roasted.....and the men would go in search of another cask.....so that the whole village could celebrate. Rabbie Burns knew better.....

    Fair fa’ yer HONEST sonsie face!

  12. ok,then!! Anyone in the Glasgow area can confirm this; in the Kelvingrove Museum, amongst the native critters (4 legged ones, not the Greater Ned!) there is displayed... a stuffed haggis! Proof indeed!

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