Bellevue House is suffused with genuine excitement in anticipation of our Burns Night Supper, 25th January. The haggis will of course be paraded into the dining room with a bagpiper before I recite Robert Burns' poem Address to a Haggis. The dish is then served as the main course. After this, I shall make a grand speech about the Heav’n Sent Bard. Americans clutch their faux pearls at the mere mention of haggis, a concoction of ground lamb, onions, spices, suet, oatmeal, offal and lung encased in a sheep’s stomach with a side of tatties and neeps. These same people knowingly eat Conagra Frozen Drywall Dinners (“NOW ASBESTOS FREE!”) and Velveeta Processed Cheese-Like Material without so much as a by-your-leave to their gastrointestinal tract. At Bellevue House, 10 cases of Laphroaig await snug in the wine cellar, but this year’s event has a special, surprise twist for the post-prandial disporting.
© 2024 John Oliver
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