Light and hearty observations from a fat and ugly guy. Home of hackneyed drivel and ersatz-existentialist effluence. Choleric biliousness a specialty, since 1958.

"It's shite being Scottish!"

Scotland. A land full of coal-streaked grungy gritty urban neighborhoods populated by people who fancy themselves speakers of English...of course, we know they're really all just gargling with marbles as they yabber on incomprehensively. I'm half Scots myself--my father being the only one in his dour, dismal immediate family NOT born in Scotland--and per Ewan McGregor's great line in "Trainspotting", I can say definitively that "it's shite being Scottish!"

Speaking of Scottish shite, their National Health Service have put out a booklet. It contains helpful handy hints on how to take care of things when, you know, the pressure builds and you've got one in the departure lounge, ready to fly. So to speak.

Called "Good Defecation Dynamics" and paid for by Scottish taxpayers (the poor bastards), it has all kinds of instructions on how to release a chocolate hostage: "Keep your mouth open as you bulge and widen" is typical.

I didn't know this was as much a problem as it apparently is for many of those who wear the tartan, but I am "awfy" glad that it's been addressed. Absent the NHS pamphlet, there'd be no good defecation dynamics, goddammit, which would lead to massive shite explosions occurring daily throughout the country....rivers of the stuff running down the streets, downhill, down, down, down, all the way down....to England.

Now, some would argue that would be a general improvement on the situation for both Scotland and England. Mais, pas moi! Actually....I guess this would be mostly fine with me, so long as it didn't interfere with the London Sun's ability to publish Page 3 Girls happy snaps.

posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 9:56 AM