They're gonna eat Haggis!

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!

Very worrying developments in Deefer Towers. Haggis doesn't seem unduly concerned, but I've heard "them" talking about eating him. Mum and Dad, I mean. How could they? Apparently they do this every year, and yet he still seems very much alive. Perhaps it's like the pig in the old joke - where they eat him one leg at a time. So there's Dad (his turn to cook), schleppin' off to our local Alladin's cave farmshop (where you can buy anything, from Cajun seasoning fom the Deep South, to Frangellica, to weird Indian spices, pasta, exotic fruits, African game jerky, bulgar wheat and Mumma's apple pie) for neeps and tatties.

By the time he puts it in the pan to boil, he's pricked it all round the ends with a needle to let the steam out, but it still splits open where the metal clip is, so he ends up steaming it. They make some gorgeous onion gravy, and serve up, washing the whole lot down with a traditional Scottich Rioja (?) and finishing off with equally trad Metaxa, from Poros, where Mum goes on hols with Diamond

We even got some left overs, which all three of us galumphed down with relish. But hold on. If Haggis is eating haggis, isn't that canibalism?

Slainte
Deefs (the noo)