Hello and welcome to ‘ratty cooks.’
Today my wife took the kids, wished me a two-fingered goodbye and
stormed out of left the house.
Don’t go jumping to silly conclusions. This wasn’t the result of any marital strife or friction between us. Oh dear, no. It’s just that she wanted to visit her sister,
and she can stay with the bloody old interfering slag until she climbs down off her fucking high horse and comes crawling back to apologise !
‘Twas in the annum, circa 200, (or around about then) that a tribe of Nomadic peoples settled and prospered on a mightie terraine in Northerne Englande.
Ffolke-lore has it that one of its inhabitants, an unfortunate of the male sexe in his forth decade, contracted the Devil’s deformitie of what was called ‘MOOBS’ and the settlement became thereafter known as Man-Chester.
In a secluded quarter of this idyllic paradise lived a commune of peoples who, due to their propensitie for consuming anciente, festering porke, had their village named accordingly.
Mightily, the Llorde, in His Mighteousness, visited a plague on them for their dietary transgression, rendering them just two bushels in vertical stature.
He, the chieftain of the Clan, was knowne to alle as NobblySan, the terme meaning . . . (Censored) . . . who was betrothed to a faire maiden who went by the name of ‘Happy.’
Today, Kimers an’ Gentlemen readers, is th’ occasion ay Duncan’s 94th birthday.
At th’ top ay his present list is a bottle ay scotch, incontinence keks, a zimmer frame and/ur a bathchair.
Guid oan ye, Duncan. Hae a stoatin day.
Time is like a river.
You cannot touch the water twice – because the flow that has passed will never pass again. Enjoy every moment of life.
As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man.
He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper’s cemetery in the Nova Scotia back country.
As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost and, being a typical man, I didn’t stop for directions.
Everyone seems to be in such a hurry to scream ‘racism’ these days
I think it’s time for a break from tradition here, and bring your attention to
Headline to a story in the Telegraph (Edition for Expats.)
“Caber tossing from Canada to Australia and beyond”
And yet, Duncan’s lot can only chuck ’em a few yards !
It’s less than 24 hours before Scotland’s residents go to the Voting Booths and have their say on whether Scotland should remain in the Union, or become an Independent country.
Various Opinion Polls have suggested that, give or take, the split ibetween those for or against remaining in the Union is 50/50.
What do you think ?
What is the real vote going to be ?
This is nothing to do with what you wish the outcome to be, but what you realistically believe will be the result.
I’ll start the ball rolling . . .