Written by CaptainSausage

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image for Tougal McDougal: The Horrors of Poverty Scottish tramps - a persistent problem

Helloo, this is the Reverend Tougal McDougal of the Prophylactic Church of Scotland in Kirkintilloch. I'd like to talk to you today about poverty.

Poverty can be a terrible blight on a community. Recently in Kirkintilloch we've had a problem with tramps. They come over to the kirk, dressed in rags, drunk aff their tits, sleeping in the grounds. It's quite hard to tell them apart from the local parishioners at times.

They've divided into two camps - a Celtic supporting group on the west wing, and a Rangers supporters group on the east. Myself I'm a Kirkintilloch City man. Not like those devil-worshipping Kirkintilloch United fans, the bastards!

But the tramps, they've been causing a problem. So we invited the local policeman, Wee Fat Boab the Boaby, roond to sort them oot. But he cannae dae much. They just throw jobbies at him and he runs away.

So it looks like the tramps are here to stay. Anyway, one day, the local people all chipped in and got me a magnum of whisky. They left it in the foyer of the church. I could tell the cap was loose, and they'd obviously tasted it to check it was a good whisky. I wish they hadn't tasted it so much though - half the bottle was missing. Still, a gift is a gift.

I had a few swigs, but I don't remember much more. And the next day I work up in a cell at the police station. I said to Wee Fat Boab, "What have I done?" But he replied, "Nothing."

Apparently he'd locked me up for my own good. After I'd had those few sips of fine whisky, I was so drunk that I picked up the whisky bottle and glassed the tramps with it. Then I started to beat the shit out o' them with a life-size crucifix of our Lord Jesus. They ran all the way to Cumbernauld.

Weel, I was michty saddened to hear this. I've never been so violent in my whole life - apart from a few minor incidents I can vaguely remember. But in any case, I belted myself as way of punishment. We don't wait for the Lord's justice here, a bit of self-flagellation does the trick.

Anyway, ladies and gentlemen, there is a clear moral to the tale. Thus ends my sermon.

Now piss off ye bastards.

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