Today is St. Andrews Day. I have decided to be REALLY Scottish.
I am listening to this on repeat : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZrdo1PuUvQ
I am scrubbing English blood from my kilt with a soapy crisp packet.
I am putting salt and brown sauce on my deep fried pizza.
I am drinking Bells 8 year blend from a deer’s bladder I found in a council skip.
I am shooting dusty brown smack into the vein between my toes.
I am shouting at traffic.
I am getting a handjob in a bus shelter.
I am fighting you because you’re not from where I’m from.
I am throwing logs in a field.
I am putting on spf200 sunscreen because the weather man said it would ‘clear up a little’ in the afternoon.
I am impregnating my second cousin as a 30th birthday present to her mother.
I am being louder than everyone except the Irish.
I am ‘oching’ and ‘ayeing’ my way to the back of the dole queue, mumbling racial insults at the ‘fuckin’ bead rattlin’ fenian Polaks that stole ma job’ , trying my hardest not to crack open that can of Special Brew in the plastic bag masquerading as my briefcase, and start getting fucked in the Job Center.
I am looking at Scotland from a far and remembering how great it never ever was.
I celebrating St. Andrew’s day as far away from that country as I have been able to get.
I am not proud of being Scottish. I just happened to be born there.
Irvine Welsh said it best.
Peece oot cunt.