It's Burns Night. (Excellent!)

The Meal

Dinner is served with some suitable background music. The sumptuous Bill o' Fare includes traditional cock-a-leekie soup before the main course ("Haggis wi' bashit neeps an' champit tatties"), followed by a sweet course of "clootie dumplin" (a pudding prepared in a linen cloth or cloot) or "Typsy Laird"

My mother's family line, the Blackmuns, is Scottish, so I have to do this, just like I have to eat Hog Maws at Christmas and Chitlin's on New Year's Day. You don't. Don't. The taste of any one of them will have you gutting your own innards with the Haggis knife until the last piece of hag and the last of clump of clootie is out of your body. Trust me. As Mike Myers put it in So I Married an Axe Murderer, "I think most Scottish cuisine is based on a dare."

So read the ode, down a few drams of whiskey, but back slowly — fuck! run — away from the Haggis. If you thank me for nothing else, you'll thank me for this.