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Scottish
Humour
Scots have a pawky sense of humour.
What's intilt?
"Intilt" reminds me of a Scottish tale about the Queen mother,
Mary. On a highland outing the queen mother stopped by a
crofters cottage and was invited in. The lady of the croft had
just finished cooking a batch of haggis. The queen was given a
morsel to try and her eyes lit up. She politely asked , "What is
into it?" The wife explained, there's this intilt, there's that
intilt, and every other ingredient that was intilt. When she got
through with her explanation the queen mother then asked,
"What's intilt?" to which the wife repeated what was intilt. This
caused the queen to again ask, "What's intilt?". Now how could
the queen of the land just not get it?
Ae guid story deserves anither.
The
Hecht of Hospitality.
The
laird of the estate invited his man of the cloth to spend a weekend
with him and others at his country estate. In the evening a troupe
of minstrels played the music of the day. Before
dinner was served the guests gathered to partake of a choice claret
while they each told their stories. A sumptuous dinner was served as
a roaring fire burned in the fireplace. Finally a bottle of Drambuie
was produced of which all partook. As the evening grew late and the
fire was burning low and the reverend became visibly
tipsy, the laird with lamp in hand assisted him up the winding stairs to his room. In these
days of old and not centrally heated stone houses it was the custom for one of the servant
girls to take the cold air off the linen bed sheets with a copper
warming pan. On this occasion the maiden had decided to slip
herself between the sheets to do the job whereupon she proceeded to fall
asleep. As the laird opened the bedroom door his holiness peered
within then turned to the laird and in a befuddled voice exclaimed,
" the company, the music and the
conversation were the best, the claret and the wines were first class, the dinner
was out of this world, but this sir, this is the hecht of
hospitality."
Another
one.
This very simple one was one of my good friend
Monty Moncrieff's favorites. When he told it, which was
usually in a restaurant, his eyes would twinkle and a
cherubic, boyish smile would spread across his face.
"What
will you have ?", asked the waiter as he pensively
picked his nose.
"Two boiled eggs you
horrrrrible man, you can't put your fingers in
those."
Smile
Scots
roll and put expression into their r's like few
others. Like the cleverrr makerrrs who crrreate a drrrink known the worrrld
overrr as Irrrn Brrru,
brrrewed frrrom girrrderrrs.
:) How about that for strrrrength.
As
the woman spectator in the parade ground proudly
remarked as her son came marching by with his regiment,
"Look, look, everyone's out of step but our
Willie."
Another
of my friend Monty's gleeful sayings was to tell of a
clergyman from his boyhood days who informed his flock
that, "Bawabath woth a wobba."
Another clergyman, Daddy Chambers, from Monty’s
latter years came face to face with him on the street on a
Monday morning, after a Sunday that Monty hadn’t been to church,
who grumpily greeted him with this one, "Hullo Moncrieff. Why didn’t I see
you in church yesterday?” To which Monty with his
ever impish smile replied, “Because I wasn’t there."
To
be continued as more oldies come to mind.
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