So, in honor of Burns' night... I'm not eating haggis, but at least I will address one in the traditional way: Fair fa' your honest sonsie face Great chieftan o the puddin'-race! Aboon them a'ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy of a grace As lang's my arm.
All I can say is this... any country where it's manly to wear kilts and recite poetry... it's all right by me. Slangivar!