Ach, Sam, me boul' stalwart. Glad that the Craigavon mob got your kidney sorted out. Sure if it had give you any more bawr I'd've wheeked it out myself with my Swiss Army Knife. If you'd been one o' the awr sort, they'd've pickled thon oul' kidney and preserved it as a relic. The oul' Shinners would've been ben'in' the knee to it and mutterin' into their oul' beads for the salvation of their sowls.

But sure when you were away, didn't we write you a wee song about your kidney stones … it's to the tune of thon oul' "Waltzing Matilda".

STONES IN ME KIDNEYS

Once a jolly Orangeman
Put up his oul' tent upon
A hill in the spot
That is known as Drumcree
He went for a slash
And he poolied pebble-dash
On the ground he did thrash
From his oul kid-a-nees

Stones in me kidneys
Stones in me kidneys
Cause me to howl
Aye, they cause me to moan
It's ruined my vacation
In my canvas habitation
I must get an operation
On me oul' kidney stone

And as for you, Alison, you dorty-minded huzzie. I'd say you'd have a sheugh or two on you that a man'd be inclined to crawl around in right enough. Thon outfit you describe ... it would torn a b'y on, so it would!