No, I don’t understand a blind word of it either, but tomorrow night being Burns Night there’s a lot of it about. Address To A Haggis is far from the worst of the third-rate doggerel produced by Scotland’s national bard, although given that he fornicated his way through half the women in Ayrshire, was inordinately fond of whisky and died at 37, it’s a miracle he found the time to write anything.

Burns Night is a bad time to be a Jock outside Scotland. The streets are full of kilted drunks who look the part, but when questioned turn out to be Eton-educated bankers (and if you wish to take that as rhyming slang, don’t let me stop you) called Donald MacFarquhar, or possibly Farquhar MacDonald, who’ve never been north of Upper Street, genuinely believe there’s somewhere called “Lock” Lomond and put ice in their single malt.

On the other hand, it’s a good excuse to eat haggis, a much-maligned delicacy. Returning briefly to Burns, before hordes of claymore-wielding blokes with woad saltires on their faces (Mel Gibson has a lot to answer for) descend south to disembowel me at Smithfield, I’m prepared to concede that Tam O’Shanter isn’t bad. But if we really need a national bard, we should have chosen the incomparable William McGonagall. How can you fail to love a poet who ends his ode to the collapse of the Tay Bridge in 1879 with civil engineering advice:

I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed

Poetry. Sheer poetry.

Haggis with Drambuie cream

Serves 4
Prep 20min
Cook 30min

800g haggis
800g potato
800g swede
Butter and milk for mashing
Chopped parsley to serve

SAUCE

30g butter
4 shallots, minced
100ml Drambuie
300ml double cream

METHOD

Bung the haggis in a pan of water, bring to the boil and simmer for 30min till it’s heated through. Peel and chop the potato, simmer till tender and mash with a little butter and warm milk. Do the same with the swede, but omit the milk and add lots of freshly ground black pepper. For the sauce, heat a small pan and sweat the shallot in a little butter till it’s translucent. Warm the Drambuie slightly, light it with a match, pour into the pan and shake it till the flames die down. Stir in the cream. Let the sauce bubble and reduce a little. To serve, divide the sauce among four warmed plates and pile three equal mounds of haggis, potato and swede on top. Sprinkle with chopped parsley. Drink a lot of whisky. If at any point you feel the urge to recite My Luve Is Like A Red, Red Rose, either get help or go to bed.

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