There you have it, nothing less than solid proof that the Cthulhoids have arisen. Not only has R’lyeh broken the surface once more, freeing Cthulhu to stalk once more among men, slavering with bloodlust and howling with madness, but His legions on the ocean bottom have seized control of the distilleries the Scots, so foolish, so blind, located together on a remote island, hemmed in by fog and shunned by mainlanders; a strange, lonely, broken-down place, where the very air corrodes the greyed stone from which the town is hewn. The townsfolk, isolated and inbred as they are, provided little resistance, arming themselves only with bulky helmets and a peculiar, non-Euclidean weapon consisting of a bizarre and abhorrent arrangement of pipes and airsacs. Their precautions were as nothing against the powerful arms and ravenous beaks of the briny legions, although the invaders did have to stuff their earholes with kelp against the terrible assault of the sonic waves.
Make mine a double, but I think I’m sticking with something further inland: tequila. That’s made from cactus, right?
raincoaster 
Sadly, the misinterpretation is axiomatic yet subtle, bleedin’ obvious yet not ‘solid proof that the Cthulhoids have arisen’. The aforeshown Scotch entrepreneur is, yawn, once again proving the Caledonian spirit of inventiveness, the disregard of prevailing cultural ism, the nonsense of the expected, the(oh for feckssake, even I am getting fed up with this) wherewithall of the Mac Alpine spirit. he is wearing what Vogue may consider a hat but which any knowledgeable Scotchman knows, indeed, kens, is an underwater breath supporter, as ’twas known in Brave heart’s time, ‘whence the Cthulhoids do breathe fromwith they do indeedith die from’. Quoth Mcgonagall Jn III, the bastard offspring of a poet and poetessa, methinks and me believeith. The strange, nay formidable, outcome of such congress invades not only our land but OUR VERY BEING TO THIS DAY!!!
I am, of course, enjoined, to your very self, for approaching the meaning of Cthulhoids
versus the esteemed, aforementioned, non Euclidean etcteras, BUT, and just before Metroperps leaps to yer lady’s honour, have to imply, nay hearsay, ’tis bollocks of the Canuck kind..
In summary, we the Gaelic, Welsh, Romans, Scandinavian types, know that the 5th harmonic came about ONLY ‘cos of a dead Cthulhoid rising to the surface and being shaped into a latter-day bagus-peeperous non-normal harmonised instrument of destructive warmongering:: of the other three legs I may post in the future.
STB
Have a nice weekend.
I shall. And I await the translation into English…
Did you not know? In the ancient times, young Celts were sent to dive for giant squid. After this ritual they were acclaimed as grown men by the tribe, and the hide of the squid was tanned.
After the English and Spanish (and French, Flemish, and Fantasians) drove them inland, the only way to become a man was by killing the less-impressive-yet-still-challenging highland longhorn, whose skin was tanned and fitted with mock limbs made from hollowed horn or wood in order to resemble the prized cephalopod-hide.
It was in the course of performing an unnatural act with such a memento that a young Celt was surprised by his mother with his kilt up. Inspired by the need for an explanation for his red face and agonized expression, he told her he was trying to play music on it. And thus a tradition was born.
Today, the only recognized way to become a man in the remaining traditional tribes (mostly in Aberdeen) is to cultivate a reputation as a really good pearl diver.
I and the booze hounds of the world thank you for this translation. Live and learn.
Now, can you explain to me why my FRICKIN’ COOL post on the birth of a new land hasn’t got more than a handful of views? I mean what the fuck is wrong with people??? Jesus, I just want to wade into the street and start slapping them out of their comas at random.
“young Celts were sent to dive for giant squid” nah, too bloody cold. Even in summer.
Yeah I thought that birth of a new land was ace!