21 August 2009

Not one for the triskaidekaphobics...

Gadzooks, jings crivvens help ma boab, etecera… Why this sudden burst of excitable Scotticisms I hear you ask? Not to toot my own brass section, but I must confess myself rather surprised that in the Total Politics impressionistic ballot of bloggery, my of-January explorations in Scots political peat worrying managed to tempt enough of you to propel me to the exalted position of thirteenth.

While obviously marking me out as not one for the triskaidekaphobics, I’m obliged to any cove or covess who voted for me. Despite some very worthy candidates exercising their right to conscientious exclusion - flinging a bone to the scrappy terriers who stayed in the game – for those of us disposed to generate screeds and screeds of eye-watering “cod Enlightenment” yap, its always helpful to find new ways to coax fresh souls through the blogging threshold. For the curious, the rest of the list can be espied here.

6 comments :

  1. You talk make me head hurt. You Funny.

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  2. Scrappy terrier? You? Never! I consider you more of a red setter.

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  3. Ach Subrosa, I think of him more of a long nosed, elegantly coiffed Afghan pawing through his leather bound library whilst disdainfully inhaling a puddle of Armagnac in an immense crystal snifter.
    If he can also lift his leg over his shoulder and lick his balls...

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  4. Not a terrier? Well, you're probably right, Subrosa.

    Despite the charms of Conan's splendidly vivid metaphor - my favourite element being the Armagnac puddle - unfortunately my brandy puddle has ebbed and my books plainly paper bound.

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  5. In point of fact, owing to its literary merits (and lets be honest, its fairness), I've preserved the character sketch in the sidebar.

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  6. Ah, why thank you Worrior, to be in such elite company fairly takes my breath away.

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