Now All Our Kilts are in the Bin

[cessna152towser]

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/...st/7107987.stm
BBC Scotland ran this news story this evening.
It looks like there is a plague of moths eating kilts in Edinburgh.

They love kilts! Now all our kilts are in the bin

The lady who said this then appeared on screen with what she described as her neighbour's kilt, which he's still wearing, because its OK. Looked like a MacKenzie or a Hunting MacLeod, but appeared to have three big yellow blotches on it - piles of moth eggs or paint?

The moths, which always live indoors, are attracted to natural fibres like wool and getting rid of them can be a life-long battle.

Hope the moths don't spread here. Edinburgh is only 55 miles away.

[Moosedog]

This sounds like a great plot for a cult horror movie...


Moosedog

(I'm not belittling the problem. I was just amused at the horrified recoil I felt just reading about it.)

[Mr. MacDougall]

Time to invest in cedar chests?

[David Dalglish]

Frightening or what!

[James MacMillan]

Moth balls, cedar panelling, regular fumigation, plastic storage bags, Do EVERYTHING!

[McMurdo]

Be careful Alex, cedar disks, garment bags, moth balls etc. just for he love of God keep the kilts safe. As for the mice problem do you have a plough?

To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion,
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell-
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,
An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e'e.
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

[Archangel]

What was that Australian sheep horror movie thing again? This is the sequel.

[sharpdressedscot]

The Moths Attack!

[O'Neille]

Napthalene, the active ingredient in mothballs is TOXIC! Trust me I've seen the results professionally. Be cautious pressing a kilt that has been around them.

[Rigged]

At least the moths have good... taste. ::bada bump:: I've read Dante's Inferno and I don't recall there being a h*ll for people who make bad puns, but there probably is one.