Just when you thought it could not get worse.

Great hue and cry tonight about the relaxation of the controls by our Border Agency folks, which have allegedly allowed tens of thousands to get into the UK without proper checks. Time they took a leaf out of the USA 's books where their Homeland security types are paranoid to the extent that if you look at them the wrong way you get a flight out on the next plane. BUT their hands are not tied behind their backs by the Human Rights Legislation stuck on us by the Mandarins in Brussels.

On a different theme COMPLETELY - RGB and friends are going to a dinner tomorrow night in memory of William Topaz McGonnagall, Scotlands "worst poet", looks like it night be fun, dress is certainly informal with bunnets, odd shoes, kilts back to front, etc., And the meal is served with the sweet first, mains and then soup, and all the speeches are in reverse also.
He was born in 1830 (ish) and did not start writing him poems till he was 50, when he "heard voices" then wrote his first poem in the memory of a local minister in Dundee. He was born and died in Edinburgh - certainly a legend in his own mind!! Some of his poems are not quite what I would think as being poems, and Queen Victoria seemed to agree as she had to reject his offers to write for her on several occasions and he even walked from Dundee to Balmoral to try and see her. I found one ode, to Sunlight Soap, written to the Dundee washer women.
Of interest to me was is verse written about Colington Dell, Edinburgh, and also Hawthorden Castle, Midlothian, where he visited. This Castle, near here is now owned by the Heinz family and is used as a retreat for writers - so I wonder what he would have thought if he came back now. It has a well in the courtyard, and halfway down the well is either a cave used as a hidey hole when being attacked, or it links into a tunnel which led away from the castle. In the nearby cliffs on the side of the River Esk are a number of other caves which were used by human inhabitants over the centuries.
Quick poem - On yonder hill there stood a dookit,
It's no there now,
Some B*****s took it. Eat your heart out.