Any man lifting my kilt gets floored.

It's happened once. Just once. At night, downtown. Somebody learned manners the hard way. And while they were down on the ground puking their guts out, and gasping for breath, and turning purple, they got lectured about simple civility, good manners, and things you do not do. And when he tried to either sit up or get up during my lecture, I rapped him sharply on the top of his head with the heavy knob at the top of my cane. Not enough to split his skull, but hard enough to make him be a good boy and lay back down.

At the end of the lesson he had much better manners, knew how to use the word "sir" "please" and "thank you."

I do believe he is better for it. Even better, he got dressed down in front of his friends, who stood by and did nothing but stare at their feet.

Since then, I have been mostly left alone. I have developed a reputation where I live as "that kilted guy, don't mess with him." I open doors for ladies, say polite hellos, smile, and chat up the locals. When I go into a place, I some times get free coffee or whatever, because folk are drawn to a place where some guy in a kilt hangs out. I am (hopefully) a good example of what a kilted gentleman should be.

But kilt lifters get floored.