The Claymore Legacy

[claymore]

Re: As the autumn equinox fades into memory...

Whitever ye think Man," growled his lairdship - "Ets bad enough haein tae pay fer claes wioot hevin tae decide which yins tae wear"
Scrotums rhumy old eyes blinked in a red rimmed sort of fashion and a tear welled in the left one. The right one had not welled a tear since 1907 when it was frozen from the draught coming out of his master's keyhole - Lord Claymore was in his prime then and bedding everything pretty young thing that fell for his "Come and look at me trophy room " routine.

 

[ParaHandy]

Re: As the autumn equinox fades into memory...

thur wus anither loud knocking oan ra door and the wee scrotum scuttled aff tae open it and a man dressed like ra pope swinging a pawn brokers ba wi smoke pouring oot of it made a dramatic entry. "It is I, McHarley, an' ah'm nae named efter yon chromed pie grater but fer ma skills as a seamstrumpeter to orra ra royalty arroond here. Ah can fit youse oot wi' ma cassock, bannock and twa hinging dice in a thrice. Jist youse stand still fer a moment while I run my tape oer ye."

His Lordship was overjoyed at the prospect of being fitted out by the only tailor in the glens to have a Royal warrant and, in his mind, he could see himself striding forward to take Wee Annie's hand and her wilting at his touch.

Scrotum and the Red Dwarf were not impressed. The dwarf asked if scrotum smelt anything odd. Scrotum sniffed but found his passages blocked and after picking green bits out of his nostrils and chewing them, Scrotum sniffed again and muttered "yer right, its cannabis in yon brass ball. Whit are we tae do?".

 

[claymore]

Re: As the autumn equinox fades into memory...

"Cannabis, Cannabis" roared his Lairdshup - "whit dae ye mean Cannabis - get him tae yin Sairbones doon ra toon an hae him fix him wi a pu'thru. Yon Macfester es a guid man at ra doctorin trade - he'll hae him pishin again in nae time." (it should be pointed out at this juncture that the Laird had been on the tincture since breakfast and had got himself just about shitfaced on a fine Amontillado which appeared to be having a detrimental effect on his hearing.

 

[Twister_Ken]

Re: As the autumn equinox fades into memory...

Make mine a schooner of Bristol Cream.

Oh, sorry, forgot that Claymore doesn't do rhyming slang.

 

[claymore]

Re: As the autumn equinox fades into memory...

He does too - Bristol City.

 

[ParaHandy]

Re: As the autumn equinox fades into memory...

"Its fer ma back" whimpered McHarley "ah huv tae bend doon wi ma tape sae often that its gi'ing me ra gip" and, with that, McHarley inserted his tape between the Laird's withers. Efter a while, the tape returned. "Mon, youse a grand pair and no mistake". Whipping the dwarf's toupee aff his heid and the belt frae Scrotum's breeks, McHarley fitted a fine sporran tae his Lordship's waist.

Scrotum shuffled forward grabbing the Dwarf by the neck so the Laird could see his reflection in the Dwarf's heid. "Jings, the lassies will swoon when they see this"

 

[Sgeir]

Re: As the autumn equinox fades into memory...

The athsmatic presence wheezed its way into His Lordship's chamber.

"You rang, My Lord?", Para Handy enquired felicitously.

"Ach man, ye've done it again. Ye've forgotten tae remind me aboot wee Jamesie's birthday. The pair wee sowl will be sobbin', and greetin', and girnin' again. It's embarrassing, man. I'm fair affronted!

"Better send him a card. Otherewise we'll neffer hear the end o't."

"Too late furra caird, yer Majesticful. Wud ye no' be better sendin' him a webcam over yon Skype thing that ye'r ay bummin' oan aboot"?

"Man, Para, ye'r a genius. Bring the webcam ower here. I've got something to show him" ....................................

 

[claymore]

Re: As the autumn equinox fades into memory...

And so - wi Parahandy holdin his lairdships pyjama bottoms up with the one hand and holding the camera steady with the other - the deed was done.
"Will I say phone up to say Happy Birthday tae ma wee nephew Jamesie or just send him the picture?" wondered his lairdship aloud.....

 

[Clive_Rigden]

Re: As the autumn equinox fades into memory...

And so his Lairdship departed :
'I am just going outside and may be some time.'
/forums/images/graemlins/crazy.gif

 

[ParaHandy]

Re: As the autumn equinox fades into memory...

His Lairdship's dutiful servant harrumphed "a card hus been sent tae wee jamesie yer Lairdship - ah gave it tae ra postie, onyways."

"right, well done ma faithful servant. whit wus ra card like? Wus it tasteful an' nice, ken?"

"Oh yes, yer lairdship. It was verra appropriate - both cheeks actually. But ahm thinking that ra wee jamesie micht assume ye've goat ra lurgy looking at yon picture. it looks tae me youse aboot tae dunk yer heid intae ra steaming vick bowl."

 

[Sgeir]

Lord Claymore has a new phone fitted

Para Handy, ever the trusty servant, finished his agenda of estate business with, "Oh, and by the way yer Worshipful an' 'at, there was a message fae Mr Tome, the local electrician. He says he's fenished the hale clamjamfery, and he's also fitted the extension line in yer bilges. Says you dinnae need to be using your mobile in there again."

"Thanks a bundle", thought Lord Claymore. "Now a'body kens....."

 

[claymore]

Re: Lord Claymore has a new phone fitted

His Lairdship sat sadly shaking his noble head. He'd known the day the paparazzi would have been shot for traitors at such a betrayal of confidences. He made his way in a slow, deliberate, determined fashion to the family chapel in the East Wing of Claymore Towers, and prayed as hard as he knew how for anither cloudburst over Stirling....

 

[claymore]

Re: Lord Claymore has a new phone fitted

His lordship had settled for the evening, a substantial brandy in his regimental cut glass, settling the gastric juices tormented by the recently consumed venison.
Lounging in the old red leather Chesterfield - which could tell a few tales, considering his options - whether to take a peep at his penny black or whether to retire to his battleroom and settle the Butcher Cumberland once and for all - the telephonic communication piece began to ring.
"Claymore speaking" was barked into the earpiece as his Lordship attempted to quell the infernal vibrations and dim the myriad of flashing lights.
A stream of invective issued forth from somewhere - unintelligible but Scots unintelligible which helped his Lordship sort out the telligible and arrive at the correct conclusion that Wee Jamesie of the misty glen, who according to medical reports had thankfully stopped the strange boyhood practices for which he had had so much treatment, was attempting to speak with his Lordship. Wee Jamesie was the improbable result of a drunken tussle between Para, the ancient retainer and Effie McGlumper, a spinster of the parish with a roving eye and an inability to resist the advances of any man with a runny nose - making her one of the busiest grass flatteners throughout the winter months. The burns unit of Oban general had tended to her nether regions on a number of occasions in the days when the winters were harsh and the land snow covered.
At that point a particularly virulent bout of indigestion rendered the noble Lord unintelligible, leaving the caller to don a puzzled frown and wonder if he had caused offence. Deciding that his best defence was the gallon of waggledance he had consumed, the funds for which he had wrestled from the septic-knuckled representative of the Child Support Agency, wee Jamesie took a firm grip of himself which did wonders in terms of disguising his voice as it reached into the upper octaves available to the male of the species. Adrian Penrice - the CSA man - wished, not for the first time that he had not been so indiscrete with the Soda Syphon at the office millennium party and was still comfortably ensconced in Brightlingsea rather than in the wildest depths of Caledonia.
The noble lord, by this time had gone in search of the Gaviscon and quite forgot the telephone which he had placed on the glass top of the drawing room coffee table, where it lay for some time with an unintelligible scots castralto voice emanating from it....

 

[Sgeir]

Re: Lord Claymore has a new phone fitted

There was an audible sigh of relief at Team Claymore HQ when the news came through.

For over a week, a hand-picked team of weather and crusing experts had been assiduously assessing weather and tide conditions, and, errmm, not forwarding them to Lord Claymore, master and commander of the sailing vessel Claymore.

The announcement was made by Mr LJ Sadler. Tears ran down his cheek as he read from the ticker tape. "It's from Mr Tome, and his sideband radio. It seems that His Lordship cleared Corryvreckan at ten past one, yesterday afternoon".

Para Handy inexplicably jumped up, punching the air in a gesture of triumph. "See! Ah telt youse he wuz innocent!"

 

[ParaHandy]

Re: Lord Claymore has a new phone fitted

His Lordship moved to the bow of his fine vessel, sniffing the air like a springer spaniel in heat and absent mindedly pawing the electric anchor button. "Wull, ahm noo a grandfaither and here's me in ra cory and ah should be at ma wee gurl's side during ra confinement" With that he stamped his bauchles doon in exashperashun and turned to his faithful manservant shouting "full steam ahead, wee jamsie, we've nae a moment tae loose". But fate took a hand or rather his foot as the anchor button got firmly pressed. With a rumble and a clatter his anchor was off and away in a trice. The boat came to a shuddering stop for a moment and then was propelled forward at a great velocity as the anchor bit into the side of a passing relative of the loch ness monster which ParaHandy had already hooked and headed out past cuan at an incredible speed. "Pass me the knive and i'll saw through the bitter end" shouted the auld goat. Wee Jamesie who'd done a stint as a circus knife thrower threw the knive with deadly accuracy and pinned the auld goats sporran through his legs into the mast. "That could hae been ma knackers, ye wee scaldie, and look .. orra ma sillers spilled oot". Despite his discomfort and the likely loss of the Laird's manhood he unzipped his plaid, stepped out of his grundies, and sliced through the rope. Gasping for breath after his exertions, the Laird contemplated his position.

 

[Aja]

Re: Lord Claymore has a new phone fitted

...just at that moment a thud, thud, thud, thud, sound was heard from around the next point and Lord Claymore stood still. His good ear cocked to the noise as it came in on the new breeze.

The noise was familiar, heard by many thousands of travellers through out the last fifty years and weel kent on the turbulent west coast.....

Sure enough as the noise grew louder the bow of the fine paddler The Waverley on its annual excursion from Oban - appeared round the point as the faint noise of the fiddle and accordian band wafted across to where Lord Claymore stood on the foredeck where his grundies still lay....

 

[jimi]

Re: Lord Claymore has a new phone fitted

“If I wass a man wi’ a pickle money by me there’s no’ a hobby I would sooner have than sailin’ a bit yat for my own amusement,” said Claysie, as the Claymore came puffing out of Rothesay Bay through the fleet of the C.C.C
“Sailin’ yats for yoursel’ iss no’ an amusement; it’s wan o’ them contagious diseases,” said Para Handy. “You’re better to get bye wi’t when you’re young, and spend the rest o’ your days in the bosom o’ your femily listening to the mustress playin’ the pianolio.”
“It’s a great sport,” insisted Claysie, looking with envy at a young fellow out on the bobstay of a plunging little cutter trying to clear a ton or so of deep-sea vegetation from the flukes of her anchor.
“Chust that! And so’s keeping white rabbits; but for a man that’s up in years a yat o’ his own’s a terrible affliction. It’s the ruination o’ many a happy home. A chentleman that hass it iss not much use to his wife and femily; he’s away on the heavin’ billow every Seturday efternoon, oot o' range o' mobile phane. It’s better than bein’ a chenuine sailor on the Solent, for a solent sailor will always be on his phane tae hame. A chentleman that hass a yat o’ his own never talks tae his wife and femily, except oan Mondays.

 

[ParaHandy]

Re: Lord Claymore has a new phone fitted

... covering his naked tackle wi' his haund, the Laird gesticulated tae the hundreds orra trippers frae rothesay who stared in amazement at the scene afore them a'. The capt orra Waverley wus screaming at the top of his voice as his boat slowly tipped over with the weight orra passengers oan yin side. Wee Jamesie hurried forward tae save the day wi' a tea towel tae cover his Lordship's knackers efter gieing them a quick wash and dry.

 

[claymore]

Re: Lord Claymore has a new phone fitted

"D'ye no Ken, Jamesie ma wee skinnymalink" intoned his noble lairdship into Jamesies eager ear "Thus is why ah took ra contract wi Orange - fer a stairt there'll be nae scurrvy wi a'yin Vitamin Sea and secondly - there's nivver a feckin signal fae onwhaurs North er Wesht O Cumbernauld sae ra wee mustress cannae contact me and ah'm similarly disabled fae contactin hersel"
Changing the subject, his lairdship put a bony claw tae his wee companion's shoulder an staightening his worn and weary vertebraes tae their fu' height he said "Come near ma knackers again wi yin o' they knifie throwing capers an by Goad ra wurld wull hear a' aboot yersel an yon rechabite preacher wha took a shine tae yer wee airse back in Kulbride that time....." Nae mair, jamesie.....nae mair"

 

[jimi]

Re: Lord Claymore has a new phone fitted

meanwhile over on the PS Waverley, Fiana Fullerton was staring aghast at the scene unfolding on Claymore's foredeck through the specially purchased stabilised binoculars she had specifically bought for viewing her quarry. She had for many years been stalking Lord Claymore in an attempt to gain a DNA sample. She wipped her Samsung camera phone out her dainty cutch purse aimed it through the bins and took a photo. Her brain then engaged .. my DNA sample is in danger .. I'd better call for help .. sweat beaded her smooth maidenly brow and a trickle of glowing perspiration oozed between her firm breasts as she evaluated the situation .. 999 was dialled, "Dang it! No signal!" She grimaced .. if the contortion of suck pretty features could ever be called a grimace and reached into her black thighlength boot for a parachute flare.