The Claymore Legacy

[Stemar]

Re: Burns night ...

I've nothing sensible to add (if sensible is appropriate to the thread!), but I couldn't leave it at 99 replies!

 

[claymore]

Re: Burns night ...

His lairdship eased his fragile frame back into the firm comfort of his favourite Chippendale. His piles had been bothering him after overdoing the haggis a tad, the previous nicht but as had been proven many times over the years, they were no match for Carpenter Chippendale's adze. Twas indeed a grand day. Tae have made it tae a hundred was indeed an accomplishment. Having heard on the wireless aboot a chappie of 104 aff tae shag himself tae a standstill in New Zealand, The auld gent fell to musing about his conquests over the years - it was a job tae remember them all and the notches on the end of his four poster were not helping much....

 

[longjohnsadler]

Re: Burns night ...

Shortly thereafter he awoke from an uncomfortable dream. He'd made a speech at the Burns Night - but what had he said?
Panicking now, and in an effort to find the notes he may - or may not - have made for his pre-prandial pontification, he patted the inner lining of his jacket, the 'secret' pocket where he usually kept his wallet, but as usual....to no avail.
'Jings!' he spat. Had he mentioned Carpet Burns? But no that was more than a lifetime ago. Cigarette Burns? But surely Parahandy had cried off. Third Degree Burns? No, he hated music....
Then, with a flood of relief, he realised the notes for his speech were in his sporran. They were gey damp but still readable...

 

[claymore]

Re: Burns night ...

Gazing down with increduility he read the words he must have spoken
'Ah sat upon a cigarete
Ah bear the marks upon me yet'
Burns.

Tha' black bashturd Para........

 

[ParaHandy]

Re: Burns night ...

deftly removing the sodden sheets, bog roll and roll-ups from the laird's sporran, his faithful manservant peeled a sheet off. "oh, jings, the auld git's got a hold orra ma faither's speech fer ra upcoming dochters wedding".

"erm .. yer lairdship? wus the speech .. erm .. did it gan doon well wi' ra wimmen?"

The laird, feeling faint now, knew somewthing was wrong.

Before he swooned and fell to the floor, his coterie of faithful servants came to his aid and were about to lower him into his chippendale when the phone rang. The laird was dumped as his literary agents, who could recognise the sound of 10% commission even in the auld kirk's belfry at midday, grabbed the receiver. "It's the Oban Times. they're calling youse the new bard of scotland efter yer address."

"ho hum .." thought his faithful manservant "could'nae hae been orra bad, then? hmmm ... "

The Laird considered his position. Uncomfartable, maybe, as he'd fallen on the wee jimi whose bowels had just moved. "Sae, ahm the new bard?"

 

[claymore]

Re: Burns night ...

"Jamesie" gurgled his lairdship, the bard
"Parchment and ma finest quill - ef ye please"

Jamesie - never a man tae have been employed for his intelligence - passed the good laird a towel then ran off to try and capture a pheasant - he'd never seen a quail so widnae recognise one if it had bit him...he pondered for a moment wondering if quails bit

Meanwhile, the Laird realising that he was at the point of literary climax reached into the depths of the roll-top bureau and found paper, pencil and a packet of three with a sell by date of 17th May 1980. He paused for a while, wondering what had been going on in 1980 and why the frenchies had remained unopened. In a flash the whole issue of the paternity suit re-visited him. It is a little known fact that one of the key selling points of dementia is that one can easily and readily adopt an 'out if sight, out of mind' approach to life. Adopting this approach, his Bardship the Laird replaced the package and promptly forgot about it and the red-haired 27 year old forester who was at that precise moment replacing a chain on one of the estate Stihl chainsaws.....

Taking the Basildon Bond and his Bic biro the laird began to write
"There's a red-eyed, grey haired sailor
To the side of Oxford Toon
Wi a hedghog in his pool, a-floatin deid
An his wife she was a wailing - but auld Douglas was oot Sailing
An him wi - oot a care within his heid."

A warm feeling of pleasure overcame the Laird, he took this to be satisfaction with himself - how readily the words had flowed - perhaps not to the standard of 'Young Lochinvar' but by God - no' a bad first attempt.
Shifting in the Chippendale, he realised that the warm feeling was mair to do wi' his incontinence and reached for the tartan fabric bell-pull to summons Mistress McNair....

 

[longjohnsadler]

Re: Burns night ...

'Fegs!' quoth Claymore. 'FEGS!' He wasn't sure what it meant but he liked the sound of it. In fact he wasn't sure he hadn't used it in one of his earlier pomes when he couldn't think of anything else that rhymed with 'legs...'

'It's about time I was recognised with a knighthood for mah literary efforts...' mused the laird ( forgetting that he had already been made a Lord on page 1).
'Would that be like a burns nighthood?' chortled young Jamesie.
Claymore chose to ignore the remark. 'Tae hell with Young Lochinvar!' he said, having been to more lock-ins than he coud remember. 'I'll petition GB hisself!'

Claymore's hero (some say he had modelled himself on him) was that Australian chappie - Minister for Culture - what was his name? Ah yes, Sir Les Patterson. Well if Les could get a knighthood so could he.
He looked again in his sporran. 97 pence. He took a brown paper bag from a drawer in his roll-top bureau and stuffed it full of....

 

[tcm]

Re: Burns night ...

the dozens of tatty scraps of paper, each containing other highly forgettable attempts at poetry. His attention was diverted...

There was an auld man of belgrave
Who found a dead whore in a cave
He said "it's disgusting -
she only needs dusting,
And think of the money I'll save!"

Hm. And another one, this time neatly printed on a small square of cardboard:

Smooth a little lube
Onto any erogenous zone
And your partner's touch will immediately
feel far more sensual and intense.

ooh, not bad really? And strangely erotic. But then Claysie realised he gotten hold of the packet of three again and was reading the instructions on the back of the packet...

 

[jimi]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

Hot from the Para Piza

 

[captainslarty]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

Surely this is for the lounge..

I thought he had 'bowed out' anyway..

 

[jimi]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

[ QUOTE ]
Surely this is for the lounge..

I thought he had 'bowed out' anyway..

[/ QUOTE ]

My father used to say .."If you can't say something positive, then its not worth saying."

 

[Kylora]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

[ QUOTE ]


My father used to say .."If you can't say something positive, then its not worth saying."

[/ QUOTE ]

Hear, Hear

Ash

 

[Twister_Ken]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

An' as ma faither used to say - "s'no good getting auld, if ye dinnnae get crafty'.

 

[claymore]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

Just in case the McDonald thinks I don't read. Apologies to those who feel this should be in the lounge, doubtless you are correct after all, I can see that practically every post in Scuttlebutt is entirly boatcentric...

The ageing Laird shuffled his morning papers looking for the dull side of the delsey - it has been some time since he wrote anything but his failing memory at least remembered that ye cannae write on the shiney side...
not entirely sure that he had written something rude there, he gathered his thoughts. That is to say, he attempted to gather his thoughts but sadly nowadays even one of the estates finest Collies would have a job rounding them up.
"Whaur is yon scoundrel Parahandy?" he roared and as if by magic in he minced in that rather effeminate Morningside sort of a fashion that he had cultivated.
"A dram man - ef ye please - an gae easy wi ra watter" The Laird had rumbled the ruse some time ago and noticed the Macallan looking decidedly anaemic as a result of the ancient retainers dilutionary tactics.

 

[Sgeir]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

"Aye, and while ye're at it" he roared, "can ye no' get that Jimi to reduce that ridiculous pickshur tae 700 pixels, sae's we can have a workable thread again?"

 

[Sgeir]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

Tap, tap. And then again, slightly louder, knock, knock. Lord Claymore turned over in his commodious bunk, happily dueting the Trolley Song with Judy Garland. Yes, indeed, such perfection. It brought to mind Robert Browning's famous lines<ul type="square"> God's in his Heaven -
All's right with the world! [/list] Marvellous stuff, although he always did wonder what Browning was on about when he wrote; <ul type="square"> Then, owls and bats, cowls and twats,
Monks and nuns, in a cloister’s moods,
Adjourn to the oak-stump pantry! [/list] He made a mental note to ask ljs about it. Thump, thump! "Thump went my heartstrings...." THUMP, THUMP! He awoke with a start, although couldn't remember noticing it the previous night.

"And who might that be at this ungodly hour? Izzat wee Jimi?"

"No. It's wee Jimmy, the man wi' the beard and the leather pouch fu' o' siller", came the response.

He wondered if this was a portent of things to come.

 

[Twister_Ken]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

"Siller, is it?" grumbled the lardy laird of Loch Gonad. "When I sent you awa' t'was gelt in yer sporran an' ye'd nae beard. Why mon, wha' the feck hae ye been up tae?"

"When yer as wee as me" replied the gnarled dwarf, "Ye can nae get up tae anything, not wi'out a ladder, anywa."

"Full o'shite as iver", the exalted one replied. "So ye spent all mae gelt on wha?"

"Wheel, I hied mesel doon tae Wes'minster where I met ra laddie Michael Martin, frae Glasgie, all dolled up in a Scottish Widder's black coat and his ma's tights on his pins. Wee Jum, he sed, I'm on a reet good nummer here, mair dubloons than ye could cobble Suchiehall street wi, an a bunch o'chancers fair buddies. An' fair a considdiration, I'll cut ye in on it, lang as ye'll nae be wantin' yer moat mucked-oot. I've fell on mae feet here, I thought, so I gives the auld fecker yon pieces o'eight, specking to be richer than wee one-eyed Gordie Broon ra noo. Nex' thing I ken, yon Martin fellers got his mug in all ra peppers for bein' a mickle of an auld scroat an oot o'his job an' all, and that, yer honour, is why I've nae burra few florins in sassenach coin aboot mae person."

"An what aboot ra beard?" raged Claymore, as he climbed aboard the thunderbox.

 

[longjohnsilver]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

The old lecherer returns!! Thort his self imposed exile was rather OTT /forums/images/graemlins/grin.gif

 

[claymore]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

Ah'm no stondin fer ony abuse at ra honds o' youse, parrotcack features - ah'm aff.....

 

[Mudplugger]

Re: The Claymore Legacy (contd)

Pray return Sir, your doting public, have sore missed your gentle humour and words of exquisite wisdom....and its got to be the longest running thread......ever!