Shithead Wullie and the Malt Whisky Class

[piscatus absentis]

Wee Teeny regularly tries to bring Wullie into the embrace of, what she calls, decent society and where the lingua franca is, perhaps, softer and better modulated.  Her long terms aims for the business are to take it upmarket where she feels that profits will be higher.  Wullie, good naturedly, goes along with her but as he says, ?ah?m jist a bit o? rough an onywye the wummin seem tae like it that wye?.
   Her latest idea was to enrol him in a malt whisky appreciation course.  Wullie offered no objections despite the fact that the course was based in Edinburgh, or Embra in Wullie?s parlance.
   On the first appointed night Wullie turned up to find a lecturer dressed in a kilt, lace up shoes, long hairy socks, a checked shirt and a tweed waistcoat.  His stated name was Jock, ?not joke as in the Scottish nomenclature but Jock as in the English pronunciation ? a nice bit of irony there I think?.  ?Aye, it is a bit hard,? said Wullie and received a nonplussed look.  ?I served in the colours of her Royal Majesty for twenty years,? Jock claimed.   ?That?s interestin?, said Wullie innocently,  ?wur ye a waiter ur a footman.?  Jock ignored the comment with a disdainful military look.
   The other attendees were, according to Wullie, ?jist a pile o? posin? naebdys.  Except fur this big burd frae an English paper.  A fine lukkin? big lassie wi? legs up tae hur oxters?.
   Jock explained that they would, that night, be sampling single malts from Islay.  ?Islay where?,? asked Wullie.  ?Islay, as in the isle of  Islay?, was the short come back from Jock, ?Just take the ferry from Kennacraig and turn right at Jura?.   ?Aye, ah ken it fine?,  answered Wullie, ?ah jist wanted tae be sure that this English lassie kent where ye were talkin? aboot.?  The English lassie flashed a mouthful of perfect and dangerous looking teeth at Wullie and moved closer.
   Now Jock poured a tiny measure of, ?Port Ellen, cask number 3518,? into one of the several glasses standing before each pupil.  ?What I want you to do is to swirl it around the glass and then nose it; nose it, but don?t taste it and tell me what you can smell?.   Answers varied from seaweed to diesel oil and burning peat, though if any of them had ever smelled burning peat Wullie would have been surprised.
   ?What we do now,? announced Jock, ?is to add some lovely soft Scottish water to it ? just a splash?.  ?Hoo di we ken the waater?s saft?,? queried Wullie.  ?When  you wash you hands in it there?s no scum and lots of lather?.  ?Bit then the whisky?ll taste o? soap?, Wullie complained.  Jock ignored him again but the big English lassie edged closer.
   ?Describe the smell now?  Has it changed?  Use your own words?. 
   ?Gavin Hasting?s jockstrap ?mmm  lovely?.  This was the big English lassie.  ?Naw it?s no, taury rope, that?s hellish?.  Jock exploded, ?you two are not taking this seriously.    Please leave and let the others carry on peacefully?.  ?Fair enuff,? was Wullie?s response, ?yur a load o? chancers wha dinny take yir drinkin? seriously.  Seaweed an? diesel ile, ah?d rather drink pish?.
   So Wullie and the big English burd ended up in the car park where she was given a, gratis, demonstration of Wullie?s talents across the bonnet of Jock?s car.  When she finally recovered  some part of her composure she suggested adjourning to a hotel for more of the same and a drink to take the taste of whisky out of her mouth.  ?Nivver bother wi? the drink?, suggested Wullie, ?jist kneel doon here an? ye can sample something a bit tastier.  Jist mind whit yur daen wi yur teeth though?.

[fredaevans]

Why do I think/know I can't 'cut and paste' this and forward on to my wife? Lord knows I want too .... :lol:

[sandyborthwick]

Another belter P.A. but you should post a health warning in the title: LOL.... so that us with SWMBO hovering don't open it in their presence - I'm still removing the carving knife from me shoulder blades. Mind you S.W. never seems to have this problem.

Sandy B.O.

[haresear]

Magic :lol: :lol: :lol:

Write a book. G'wan g'wan g'wan.

Mrs Doyle