Worse luck.
I was looking back at the early days of the blog this evening, reminiscing about being a young 20-something whippersnapper on the cusp of something marvellous, when I noticed 3 comments attached to my very first "thank you" post. Now, I've noticed that 'Dave Kenicer' is consistently one of the top ranked phrases that leads people to my blog, but I assumed that it was just the man himself checking out my glowing tribute. It is, after all, awfully well written, and I know from experience how dark and lonely it gets "up north" at this time of year. If I have somehow provided even a crumb of comfort from the cruel outside world, then it is worth it.
Imagine my surprise, however, when I clicked on the comments link to discover some kind of colloquial discussion of Mr Kenicer between "Davie Dicks", "Auld Bob" and "Rab Doig". Having only ever paid no more than passing attention to Monarch of the Glen, I'm afraid I haven't a bloody clue what they're on about. Or who they are. Answers on a blog post to the usual address.
weel, it's like this... thon kennebec cannae pu' his weight in a field o' blight, squeels like a baby pertridge when he's got the blackleg on his podgers and aye has his back tae the sack. ye hoor ye. he's an affy laddie.
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