Robert Burns, the National Poet of Scotland whose birthday falls today, was - to put a modern spin on it - a sex addict. Seven of his twelve children were illegitimate. Once, he and a local farm girl were discovered in flagrante delicto and hauled before a panel of Presbyters, grim-faced and grimly-bearded elders of the grim Scottish Presbyterian Kirk. The couple sat next to each other on three legged stools while for hours nightmarish hellfire, brimstone, vilification, guilt, sin and eternal damnation rained down upon them. Under the circumstances, what happened after that seems remarkable.
© 2024 John Oliver
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