With apologies to Mr Burns

Since there's something about our family that induces us to go by our middle names on a daily basis I thought I'd write some (bad) poetry making use of my forename.


Hell froze over that day because someone decided it merited publishing;



http://aberdeenvoice.com/2010/11/tae-a-lassie-wioot-a-coat/

Ode to a brain slug

"My brain slug sits on top of my cranium
My brain slug sits on top of my head
The poor little feller is starving
And now he's dropped on the floor stone dead.



Brain Slug. Brain slug. Bring back my brain slug to me, to me.
Brain Slug. Brain slug. Bring back my brain slug to me."