I’m off for a few days to a Scottish Castle near Fort William with my good lady to drink, feast and be merry. As a member of the Buchanan Clan (although I am not a wife beater or herion addict, yet), I shall be suitably dressed in a stunning Buchanan dress kilt, without a doubt the loudest fucking tartan in the world.
I am assured the Campbells who own the place are very trustworthy and have told me they have full internet access. They never lie and are great hosts apparently. To be on the safe side, I am going to stab the fucker anyway. (He probably means the Cornish Internet ie. Ceefax)