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capsule/content/logs/longlog/2024-01-29.gmi

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+# EUHWC Toast to the Lassies 2024
+
+At the EUHWC Burns meet in Ullapool last weekend, I had the last privilege of giving the Toast to the Lassies. Particularly for the benefit of those who weren’t there, here it is in full!
+
+Published on: 29 Jan 2024 
+
+Had Burns, instead of his sweet bonnie Jean,
+his skills poetical for to mature
+had any one of our club’s lassies seen
+he would forever have remained obscure.
+If he had nothing but this box of worms
+Scotia would have been poorer, that I’m sure.
+Now none of us can claim to be a Burns,
+I’m no poetic master, still, I’ll have a punt,
+though let’s be clear, I’ll do it on my terms.
+I’ve everywhere avoided being blunt -
+politeness matters more than any schema -
+but it is hard when Isla’s such a cunt.
+It was a challenge to produce a terza rima
+I could recite withouten snoring;
+you’ve been so stiff I thought youse had oedema.
+The bother is this year is you’ll all been boring:
+no drugs, no sex, no gossiping or lies,
+no rock and roll, and hardly any whoring.
+But hey well, rules is rules, I’ve had to try!
+At least it can’t be worse than the reply.
+
+I’ll start with Audrey, the club’s senior member,
+for if there’s something that I say which disconcerts her,
+it’s fine: the poor old girl, she won’t remember.
+She likes to let us think she’s a hard worker
+but we’re electing a third social sec…
+it’s pretty clear she’s just another shirker.
+This lady, half American, half Czech,
+for study, moved to Scotland for to do
+American history – really, what the heck?
+The club is so much louder thanks to you:
+impressive vocals for just five foot two.
+
+That woman, Willow, reggles is bespeckled
+with her sickle and her fishing tackle
+shackled by the shins while she is heckled;
+the way that Willow waddles maks me cackle
+like a speckled jackal getting tickles,
+worth a shekel in the tabernacle;
+I chuckle muckle at her love of pickles
+which she wiggles when she has the heart
+while work for the Committee’s fickle trickles.
+Her modus operandi: you can’t rush art.
+Her reimbursements programme’s going great;
+any day now, she’ll maybe even start.
+She cannot walk without Audrey, her mate:
+I wonder when they’re going to consummate.
+
+Although they make them pretty tough in Peebles,
+the thought of actually going up a peak
+fills Shona Lewis with the heeble-jeebles.
+New car? We miss your beautiful antique!
+How long before this one’s also up a creek?
+
+Once there was a lass called Hannah Collier
+whom even hell below regarded nasty,
+deeply despised by all that dwells there.
+Dating’s proceeding slowly for our lassie;
+not far from giving up til she beguiles
+a hot Italian in Southsider: classy!
+At first, Michaelo seems to be all smiles
+till it transpires he’s one of Dante’s demons…
+I guess it’s back to posters of Harry Styles.
+One day you’ll get a decent boy, keep dreamin;
+somewhere there waits a handsome Mr Collier.
+Hopefully when she meets him she’ll no be steamin.
+Hannah, I’m not sure why you chose to maul your
+poor skeleton at Subway (she’s still tetchy)
+and then abandon what remains of all your
+dignity at Ryvoan with a Frenchie!
+I think he wishes that he never met ye.
+
+And has a quiet Felicia e’er been seen?
+The energy she has is frankly wild.
+I’ve never seen a hillwalker so keen!
+Ssie ischt raschtlos und nie gelangweilt.
+She eats raw oats with soggy protein powder:
+a camping pot has ne’er been worse defiled.
+She uses what her Maker has endowed her
+with: her recorder skills are off the charts;
+youse think I’m joking, but I wouldn’t doubt her!
+This lass of the land of the Rot-Gold-Schwarz
+will soon depart, though long we might beseech you
+to stay. Of course, you’ll break all of our hearts,
+but mine most of all. Any time, Felicia,
+Creag Meagaidh calls, I know routes up the rear
+dark and under-explored that I can teach you!
+I won’t deny I think it’s rather queer
+the things you do with chickpeas, but no matter.
+You’re keen, you’re quick, you’re cool, that much is clear.
+In fact, I think you’d make a damn good faffer:
+swoop down on distilleries like the Luftwaffe.
+
+And now we come to our girl Emily Topness!
+You’re keen for social sec. You’d suit the role
+because… I’m not quite sure, it’s embdy’s guess.
+We met your sister, and she was just as dull.
+No, please drone on about Icelandic soil!
+Poor Joe here down the front’s bored out his skull.
+And since I mentioned Joe – I hate to spoil
+it for you – but you’ve got the inferior Joe,
+by Jove, no joke, it’s Jock here’s got the style!
+Nah, write the boy a sonnet, get in the flow,
+Whatever you produce’ll beat by thrice
+your Masters thesis. What’d you got to show
+for months of hunting for the butterflies?
+‘There weren’t any.’ Oh, and have some sense,
+cos I’ve heard rumours – I assume they’re lies –
+you’ve called yourself the ‘poet in residence.’
+You know you can’t compete, drop the pretence.
+
+Tereza was our gear sec for last year.
+She helped herself to stuff: that’s factual.
+Now when she asks to loan a bit club gear
+we have to ask her to provide collateral.
+She picked up tin whistle pretty sharp!
+Which is to say, she’s not a natural.
+She’s nowhere happier than under tarp
+gazing up at the moon and stars alone
+somewhere distant and remote like Glen Tarff.
+Now what to say about Lucy Ma-the-soooon....
+she likes… to faff… mm hmmm… well, moving on!
+
+And now we come to Emilie the French.
+She seems to be nice on the trips we see her
+but my distrust of frogs will ne’er be quenched.
+Claims she’s a ‘pharmacist’? So she’s a dealer.
+Need some pills in a pinch? You call, she’s there
+at your door in her rally-approved four-wheeler.
+One question we have is, why are you here?
+Most folk are in uni, you’ve no refutin
+you were kicked out after second year!
+Now the Engineering grad, Sophia Newton.
+Your namesake, Isaac, was a man convicted,
+constructed calculus; but no computin,
+not even Isaac’s, could’ve e’er predicted
+you’d drop the Eng for creative writing!
+now that’s what I would call a self-inflicted
+inflection point! It must be quite enlightening,
+but that doesn’t excuse when you give us an earful.
+The blood boils in our veins, the rage heightening,
+and you’re an American, that makes me fearful.
+What’s your secret? You have us knackered!
+What are you on to always be so cheerful?
+Now we approach the topic of Merzbacher.
+Wait, she’s not here? Abandoned ship?
+She says she’s informatics: so she’s a hacker?
+She has strong views, she lets her anger rip.
+Poor George got an earful, full of future advice,
+but why hasn’t she been on another club trip?
+We’re cruel to focus on this list of vice;
+the fact remains: she’s headstrong and nice.
+
+On Skye, a lady gave her poles to Sasha,
+which was really nice - I mean just the best -
+but Sasha really didn’t have to flash her.
+Quick history lesson: way back, RBS
+led the banking system to self-destruct
+and left taxpayers to pick up the mess.
+Since then, the name’s so irredeemably fucked
+they’ve had to ditch the brand once and for all.
+There’s one lassie who I need not instruct
+What, these days, the Royal Bank is called
+cos NatWest’s nasty history of scandal
+didn’t stop Booth from working there at all.
+Nothing motivates her more than to trample
+upon the working class. They set her free.
+She sank the pound quicker than the Belgrano,
+because ‘there is no such thing as society,’
+that’s how it is, is it? All right, I see.
+
+Now, coming all the way from Glenmore Lodge,
+it’s Ellie’s turn! We have done what we can,
+although I’m scared what she’ll put in my squash.
+She wasn’t into Benji, but listen man,
+you’re lucky that you dodged her drunken benders.
+You’ll wake up in a tent in Kyrgystan,
+as for how you got there, no-one remembers,
+and if you’d known you’d be sleeping next to Ellie,
+you would’ve brought some fucking ear defenders.
+She’ll wrap you in bubblewrap, from your ears to your belly,
+cotton clothes for none, and no complaining,
+applying safety to the max, spare socks in your wellies.
+She’s always at her Mountain Leader training,
+practicing her night nav in the locale,
+pursuing QMDs - unless it’s raining.
+But some water should not scare our gal!
+She’s had much experience with the wet as of late:
+after all, she got on well with our navy pal.
+What was the age of that particular first mate?
+Older than your ex - always part of the plan?
+Ah, of course! He was a spry twenty-eight!
+Youth’s for the losers, let’s get you a real man,
+mature and rugged, but kind and astute?
+Just make sure he’s not as old as your gran.
+One request we all have is you ditch the uke:
+never have strings been pluckèd quite so shitely;
+we would all much rather be hit by a nuke.
+And please shut up about your nice society.
+We are all glad you had a fun summer,
+but bringing it up throws us right back to sobriety.
+To lose you of course would be a bummer:
+that is, for your carefully groomed newcomers.
+
+Now time for the main woman, El Presidente!
+To here, it’s been like getting stones to bleed,
+but in Isla Burslem’s case we’ve material aplenty!
+As Holy Scripture says, ‘let those who lead
+well be worthy of double honour,’ so
+your bit is double length – it’s quite the screed!
+I’ll start off with her brilliant boyfriend – oh!
+Not boyfriend! Friend? To me this rather smacks
+of low commitment, but what do I know?
+So far, he’s disappointing, but on track.
+What’s he up to Isla: seven minutes? neat!
+Despite that, he is never holding back
+your blossoming romance with Dr Peat.
+Don’t deny it, that launch was pretty hard!
+It’s fifth base next: that’s photos of his feet.
+It’s fair to say her reputation’s marred.
+We all regret that we did once anoint
+her President: her premiership’s ill-starred.
+Hey - you’re meant to be in charge of this joint!
+You’re seldom seen cos of the mountaineering
+meets that you’re always on. You’d made your point
+before you chose to go off disappearing
+to New Zealand… we get the message! Plus
+we’ve had enough of all your domineering:
+maybe it’s time we put you on a bus!
+Nah, I’m just joking. All I’ve said’s refutable.
+But the boys, we mean this next bit, all of us,
+so stop me Isla if this isn’t suitable
+but honestly we think your mum is beautiful.
+
+Alas, I have to bring an end to this rhyme.
+I know it wasn’t much, in our defence,
+the fact you used ChatGPT’s a crime.
+I hope I’ve not caused over much offence
+don’t worry, that is it, I’ve said my bit,
+so I’ll turn from the ladies to the gents.
+Yeah, don’t look away now, we wrote this shit!
+I see you looking at your laces, Chris!
+Wit without real goodwill is not legit,
+so boys, don’t send sincerity to piss!
+Why did God say he’d take our hearts of stone
+and give us hearts of flesh? For this, for this!
+Here is flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone;
+love, and love nothing more but God alone.
+