Kilts.......not for the faint hearted, or Mel Gibson.


Kilts, a subject close to my heart and hemorrhoids. I do wear the kilt, it gives me an over whelming sense of national pride and a little insight to what it would be like to be a cross dresser. For those of you who have wondered what a Scotsman wears under his kilt, if he is indeed a true Scot, the answer is nothing,....not a thing......not even a willy warmer, but more on this later.

In truth, most men here only wear the kilt at weddings and when they travel to either International football matches (thats soccer for those of you living in the USA) and rugby games........Oh yes, and those freaks you find standing next to lochness claiming to have seen Nessie, the world champion at hide and seek.

Trust me, these people have been down to the bottom of many a bottle, long before Nickelback, and funnily enough, most sightings take place just after closing time.....they stagger home and fall in the door to find a stern faced wife looking down at them, 'Honest lass (they slur) I was on my way hame when Nessie grabbed me by the sporran and demanded fifty pence for a cup of porridge'. .......Aye, right.

Anyway, here's a wee story that happened to me at my sister in-laws wedding. (now divorced,...me, not the sister in-law).

It was a big wedding and there was about thirty of us all dressed in our kilts and matching accessories.....Its weird, but walk down the street on a normal day carrying a knife and you'll be arrested quicker than Lewis Hamilton on Crystal meth...... At a Scottish wedding where you know they're going to be drinking the bar dry, It's perfectly acceptable to have a Dirk down your sock. ......Thats a Scottish dagger, not some sort of gay Highland fetish.......where was I.......oh aye. Well, the photographer, as is the norm, wants all the men in their Scottish finery, lined up with the Bride and Groom in the middle. you've got the row at the back and some of us one one knee at the front. I was one of those at the front and I remember thinking at the time I'd better arrange my kilt so as not to show any dangley bits......after all the pics had been taken, the photographer goes away and develops the photos.........comes back a couple of hours later and lays them all out for the guests to ooh and aah over and order the ones they would like as a reminder of what wonderful day they had and who won the fight!.

After about an hour, the two great aunties of my sister in-law was looking over the pics when one of them cried, 'Oh my God.....Look at that', and there I was....hanging loose for all to see.......(old joke alert).......one of the aunties had a stroke.....the other one wasn't quick enough.

There was a stampede of guests to the table to see what all the commotion was about.......my mother in-law was not impressed and the offending picture was quickly removed. The photographer had to touch me up...(you can insert your own joke there) before putting it back on display.

So for the rest of the night people kept coming up to me saying, 'God, you must be so embarrassed'.

Me, 'Not at all, that camera was a long way away....I'm delighted'.

The Kiltman has spoken..........and bragged a wee bit.

I hear the 'nothing under the kilt' think started when Scots slowed down on the haggis, and were introduced to vegetables. Wow., what a messy transitional period that was.