There I was enjoying a private quaff, as I thought, and all the while the pussaratzi were bent (oh how true!) on entering my inner sanctum and snapping every tail&whiskertwitch, every choke&heave.

Here is the article which led an innocent wee cat from the path of teetotal righteousness:-

Drinking game is enough to make contestants sick

I truly thought I was just following the example of my elders and betters. At least, I hope they were my elders, I’m only five-and-a-half you know…

Quite why the contestants fixated on the alcoholic equivalent of a ‘nice cup of Horlicks before bed dear’ I don’t know. Purrleasant as it is, downing huge quantities of the Radio 2 of the booze world doesn’t exactly strike the macho note the contestants may have been aiming for. Northern Exposure to Irony purrhaps…

There’s yins agin yer puddin’ race

But Charley Barley’s on yer case

He’ll raise yer swank

Abune them a’ wi guile an’ grace

A guinea’s rank!

Is there in a’ Amerikay

The like o’ you upon this day?

My rantin roarin’ gaze I’ll lay

On thy blyde face

And tho’ some plans gang aft aglay

Thou’re fu’ o’ grace.

Great is thy poo’er, and great thy fame

Sae stappit fu’ thy plumpit wame

Fae a’ the airts admirers came

Tae see thy stickin’

Wi’ shian steel that trenches hame

Entrails warm reekin’.

Auld Scotia’s grandeur isnae bate

Whilst ye are gushin’ oan a plate

The world will gie us topmaist rate

Whilst thou’re aboot

Caledonia’s glorious state

Will ne’er be moot!

Burns Night 2009

Once again, Lewis’s finest reekin’ bits didn’t disappoint. Although the glorious beast is pictured with two whiskies (one of them distilled in 1967, the year that mpu started work as an assistant ATCO) it was actually accompanied by a tassie or twa o’ red wine. We’re pretty sure the Bard would have approved of that, if not of the pastiche by that Roberta person. Whoever she is…

PURRLEASE NOTE:- There is now a live link to a slideshow of the Rolling Acres Burns Night photos