( sick Burn(s) )
Why “Burns” supper? Why not a Shakespeare luncheon?
I’m pretty sure I’ve asked that before, but having – over the years, celebrated the Bard’s birthday many, many times, we’ve heard most of the poems, had innumerable witty toasts and replies, so we tend to be very relaxed about inclusion of work by fellow poets, and actively encourage anyone foolish enough to compose personally.
Through the years we’ve enjoyed a tremendous selection of work by varied authors, many who would be miles and years away from the traditional Burnsian fare.
This year, somewhat in lieu of a “reply”, we were given more of a “roast”, as the male company was skewered with Jacobean insults from the pen of the (other) Bard:
It’s a long time since any of us (or anyone, probably) has been accused of being a Rapscallion, or a Fustilarian (I’m not actually sure what that is). Being cast, merely, as a Knave would be a relatively gentle escape. I’m (probably) glad not to have had my “Catastrophe tickled” although it’s possible that may have happened previously.
Of course, as Host, and all round good guy, I was spared the full extent of verbal flagelation…
Next week On: It’s A Spleeny Weasel’s Life…
Dalmallyfest the Asylum 