Clootily Charismatic

For those of us who have a significantly greater share of charisma than many other personages, it can sometimes be difficult to fathom what it must be like to be...


...a dull and ordinary being.  As the weather in Adelaide is rarely dull, especially in its western suburbs, my own neighbourhood is especially distinguished by its many charismatic characters.

It is a quite ordinary day here today in many ways.  We are, according to the weather forecast, facing the likelihood of a high bushfire risk in the nearby Adelaide Hills this afternoon.  This is not the sort of thing to concern me particularly on a personal level as I am well away from any danger, but I do hope you will heed the warnings if you are anywhere warm and dry today with the smell of eucalyptus in the air.  After all, Mr Robert Burns is celebrating his birthday.

Burns' Night is a peculiar sort of occasion.  It mainly appears to be about confused traditions and terrible food.  Having never been a speaker of the Scots dialect myself, I am perplexed by any celebration using words such as auld lang syne and perhaps even wha hae, especially by those of a sober temperament.  Such perplexity highlights the necessity for accurate translations rather than inaccurate traditions.

The work of many of my ethereal friends, including Mr Burns, respects the past, of course, but the main feature of what we do has a much greater bearing on the present and the future than it does on the past.  We do not mournfully reminisce about the past, nor wallow in nostalgia.  Our role is to present an accurate portrayal of the past, and the present, so that you, dear reader, may gain a good appetite for what we are able to provide.

Today, I shall be providing some of the secrets of my exquisite clootie dumpling recipe, which may be used in the privacy of your own home but certainly not for commercial purposes, nor in any other manner for which it is not intended.  Mr Adam Smith and a man called Al,  one of the friends of my acquaintance Kate the Great, are currently collaborating on their own version of a commercial clootie dumpling product, which I understand is still in the experimental, research and development stage.

My recipe requires biodynamic, wholegrain South Australian wheat and biodynamic, full cream, unsalted South Australian butter.  It also requires non-irrigated, homegrown, home-dried organic sultanas, preferably from the western suburbs of Adelaide.  On the other hand, you may like to try something more generic, though I cannot guarantee your digestion will approve:


A very basic clootie dumpling recipe (not mine, of course)


You may wish to note that Mr Robert Burns finds it very amusing that people think his lyrics are about Scotland.  They are mainly about Australia, of course, though indirectly.  If Mr Burns had written the word Australia in his works, or even New South Wales, Botany Bay or Port Jackson, he may have been transported there, possibly leading to an extended literary career in a harbourside mansion in Vaucluse.

Alas, auld lang syne being what it is, the work of a possible plagiarist, it so happens that a Mr James Watson is continually demanding redress for this theft from days gone by.  He hopes to revive the meaning he gives to the version by Mr Burns.  He also wishes to remind you, dear reader, that Mr Burns has had a habit of compiling folk tunes to promote his literary career, rather than being an original composer in any art form.

I shall be discussing this matter with Mr Burns later this afternoon.  In the meantime, you may also wish to note that wha hae rhymes with Botany Bay, as a Mr Thomas Muir of Huntershill knows all too well.  The Huntershill mentioned here is a house in Scotland, not the suburb in Sydney, dear reader.


Mr Burns prefers to have his birthday dinner in Adelaide, preferring to hear a piper in the forecourt of the State Library of South Australia, rather than anywhere near Point Piper.


As you probably well know, you are unlikely to be considered at all charismatic if you admit to eating an offal-filled sheep's stomach, today or any day.  Clooty dumpling is not the most elegant of dishes, either, but it can at least look and smell appealing in a pretty, porcelain dish.  Mr Burns agrees.


A traditional haggis recipe for those with an unsqueamishly undiscerning palate.



To ensure that traditions are upheld in an enlightened way, you may wish to try making a low fat, low salt, organic, preservative-free kangahaggis.  This is preferable to the original, especially when kangaroos may otherwise be facing problems due to bushfires, floods, droughts, and night-time trucks on highways.  Minced kangaroo steak needs very little cooking, and never needs boiling:

Fry onions until soft in extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic, non-irrigated, carefully pressed South Australian olive oil.  Then add meat and seasonings of your choice.  Once meat is no longer pink, add toasted oatmeal to gain the consistency you would prefer for your kangahaggis.  No bags of any description are required.

You may wish to sing my own little ditty while the bagpipes are playing, though Mr Burns and I do prefer a harpsichord or a harp at meal times.


Twaklin's Poetry - Suitable for reciting tomorrow:

Wha hae today in Botany Bay,
Celebrate Australia Day.
Yesterday is auld lang syne,
Clootie dumpling is divine.

Mr Burns' Poetry - Possibly suitable for today or tomorrow:
(But not whilst eating.)

By Oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free.

If you would like to know more about my charismatic clootie dumpling experiences, you may wish to peruse these earlier blog-pamphlet postings (written in various Jargonian dialects, though not a Scots one):


Luminiferous networks

An enlightened economy

From her horses mouths


Now do excuse me.  Mr Burns is due to arrive at any moment.  It is time to place my cups of kindness onto a silver tray and make some tea.