His Master's Voice

This dinner/story went well with the retro-Edinburgh-tourist placemats. Classic shots of John Knox's house and the Castle etc.

The story goes that Macsween the Haggis maker had a shop on the Royal Mile. It's wee tartan window-dressing had curtains that were always shut. It was said that they were shut so the general public didn't see the horrifying butchering of humans that went on behind them. You see, it rarely happened but it was said that if you went into the shop and were cheeky, wide or didn't show respect, you left the place diced within a sheep's stomach with lamb's liver and oatmeal for company.

Here's "Popps" addressing a giant one of their finest (and fluffing his lines). I can just see him as a human-dicer.


After dinner I had a Meldrew "I don't believe it" moment when my masterpiece had two pieces missing. Man! - like having the last two pages of a good novel torn out.

Popps then showed Jacob his prototype MP3 player. How cool are gramophones? The songs were all a bit Flanders & Swan but I felt I was time-warped.

Goodnight Sweetheart.