If you’ve never attended a Burns Night supper on a cruise ship, you’re missing a treat: good food, drink, Scottish history and fun all rolled into one excellent evening.

Plus you get the opportunity to wear a tartan skirt and let your hair down – and that’s just the men.

This annual event was started by close friends of Scotland’s national bard, Robert Burns, a few years after his death in 1796 as a tribute to his memory. The supper is held on or close to Burns’ birthday, 25 January.

The basic format for the evening has remained unchanged for a couple of centuries and begins when the chairman makes a few welcoming words such as ‘Good evening. Your glass looks empty….’

The company is then asked to stand to receive the haggis.

A piper leads the chef, carrying the steaming haggis on a silver platter to the top table, while the guests accompany them with a slow hand clap.

The captain or his invited guest then recites Burns’ famous poem, To A Haggis, with bags of gusto. When he gets to the line ‘an’ cut you up wi’ ready slight’, he stabs the haggis with a sharp knife, preferably a sgian dhu (dirk) he’s kept tucked into his sock.

The guests then applaud, and toast the haggis with a glass of whisky.

I once attended a Burns Night supper on a ship where each course was accompanied by a different malt whisky.

We started with Cock-a-Leekie soup, washed down with a fine dram.

This was followed by Haggis, Bashed Neeps (turnips) and Champit Tatties (potatoes). Plus another wee dram.

By the time we started tucking into the Typsy Laird (sherry trifle), we were all very merry indeed and tossing cabers and dishes all over the place.

One of my fellow diners, who’d told me earlier that he hated haggis, especially the fried variety they sell in Edinburgh, said the whiskies had made him fall in love with the round little rascal, which is said to run wild on its wee spindly legs around the highlands and lochs of Scotland.

Just don’t ask about the mating rituals of the Haggis Clan. All I’ll say on the matter is they are forever getting stuffed.

Even odder, Robert Burns came very close to becoming one of the world’s first cruise ship passengers – well, sort of. He originally contemplated emigrating to Jamaica but decided against it on November 27, 1786, and ended up in Edinburgh.

Over 200 years later at the supper that commemorates his memory, one of the guests is usually asked to give a short ‘Immortal Memory’ speech on Burns to remind everybody of the greatness and relevance of this great Scottish poet in the 21st century.

I’ve decided to forgo the usual speech and go for a host of Scottish jokes instead, which are best read when you’re drunk on Malt, or any other Scottish drink (such as a pint of heavy):

Did you hear about McGonnagall?’ said the first Scotsman, nursing a wee dram in the cruise ship bar on Burns Night. ‘He fell into a vat of 1966 single cask no.1437 The Glenrothes malt whisky.’

‘That’s dreadful,’ said his Scottish companion. ‘Was it a quick death?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said the first Scotsman. ‘He climbed out twice to go to the bathroom.’

They both raised their glasses to the deceased, and Robert Burns.

Then the second Scotsman said, ‘Wasn’t he related to those two Aberdonians who bet one pound on who would stay under water the longest in the ship’s swimming pool.’

‘Aye,’ said the first Scotsman. ‘They both drowned.’

They raised their glasses again, to the dear departed. And another to Robert Burns.

Then the first Scotsman said, ‘Do you see Jock over there, holding his head in his hands, weeping?’

‘Aye,’ said the second Scotsman. ‘What’s that all about?’

‘He lost all his luggage after stepping off the gangplank on to the ship.’

‘Howzat?’

‘The cork fell out.’

I know, I know, Burns must be spinning in his grave. I blame the haggis. It’s joined forces with the whisky and they’re out to get me.

James Leavey

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