Snoddy wrote:Bitter End wrote:Aye Morenish ,Thets the best use by far thet I've heard o fur a lawyer in a lang lang time. Ahm richt gled thet yeve explained the soft soons o discharge Ahve bin heerin ower the past few years oan the aaf season ( an ther wis me thinkin thet the youth hid finally learned aboot the the silence o a 410 ! ) An as tae yer shrinkin overalls ---whit a pitty thet the Kintyre Fermers couldna hae jist hung in ther fur a few more years! they wid hae bin richt in profit!! Ach but thets jist time rinnin oan!
Mr B. End, you should contemplate hanging your head in shame, along with Mr Morenish. Lawyers like doctors are professional people, the salt of the earth and deserve to be treated with respect. Where would you be without a good lawyer? I accept that there may be isolated cases of rogue traders operating in the legal profession, but lets be honest, they are few and far between.
This reference to the 'rid astra', is it an anogram of Astrid or disastar? I realise that the spelling is far from correct, but the tone has been set by Mr Morenish.
What about old Annie, has she had her blood tested recently for type 3 bochan antibodies. Mr Pongal was hinting that she may be in standard isolation mid Pacific... To the best of my knowledge it is incurable. Yes Annie, be warned, once a Bochan, always a Bochan!
Here, Here Snoddy, well said! The only damn thing, is where do you have to go these days to find a good physician, never mind a trusty Notary Public? Poor Auld Morenish thinks that he's owned his house for the last 20 years, but wae the lawyers that the good people of this village have entrusted over the years, he may be the proud owners of the quills from his oldest hen's ring-piece! What a fly in the ointment that would be. The only snag, is that it won't be discovered until the reading of his last will and testament.
Morenish will need to be very careful when he's filling out the insurance proposal for his castle. When they ask if the house has been modified in any way, he's going to have to declare the installation of the furnace and the pit props under the bedroom. The loss adjusters will also be taking a dim view of the fearful logpile at the grand entrance, never mind the tradesman's entrance.
As for the pitchfork, its far too good for you Morenish. I've told your good lady before, a stout length of springy willow. She cannot miss either, with a target as big as Tormhor itself!




