|Posted by jez on August 31, 2010 at 5:25 PM|
The politically erect wouldn’t let me paste me buster gonads ohn tae the new tube so I'm ohn ma way tae the jail tae impart this not so holy wisdom tae some ae the inmates. They‘ll no do me, I petition.
“Ah ah'n’ ma pal Allah says yir awe bein’a wee bit too serious, chill oot fir holy fruitcake sake, crack open a keg, put the telly ohn 'n let’s watch ‘Chewin' the fat ‘n Katherine Tate ohn’ the one night ‘ae the year when Auld Lang Syne, or sin, or whit’ere yi want tae caw it, brings the bairns gaithered aw the gither an’ tears streamin’ doon ‘their happy pappy’s puffied cheeks. An’ och ae course aye, there’s nae herm tae sing a pittance in praise ‘ae the bells, though neglect ‘ae some ‘ae the same tae the Maker of all creashun is libidinous licorice bom-boms. Faither, Ally bally bee, but caw ‘im what ye will, He's listening to awe ‘ae us, judging the herts ’ae sinners wher’ere they bide; He's got it sorted, now just how the holy hotdog wid ah gon' an’ ken' that?