Tis Burns Night, ye wee shy timorous beasties! To celebrate we’ve scratched our noggins and come up with some of our favourite Scottish moments, authors and Puffin stories.
The BFG has a whizzpopping alternative to the bagpipes . . .
“WHAT!” cried the BFG.”No Frobscottle? No whizzpopping? No glumptious music? No boom-boom-boom?”
“Absolutely not,” Sophie told him firmly.
“If he wants to sing, please don’t stop him,” the Queen said.
“He doesn’t want to sing,” Sophie said.
“He said he wants to make music,” the Queen went on. “Shall I send for a violin?”
“No, Your majesty,” Sophie said. “He’s only joking”.
A sly little smile crossed the BFG’s face. “Listen,” he said, peering down at Sophie, “if they isn’t having any frobscottle here in the Palace, I can still go whizz-popping perfectly well without it if I is trying hard enough.”
“No!” cried Sophie. “Don’t! You’re not to! I beg you!”
“Music is very good for the digestion,” the Queen said. “When I’m up in Scotland, they play the bagpipes outside the window while I’m eating. Do play something.”
“I has Her Majester’s permission!” cried the BFG, and all at once he let fly with a whizzpopper that sounded as though a bomb had exploded in the room.
The Queen jumped.
“Whoopee!” shouted the BFG. “This is better than bagglepipes, is it not, Majester?”
It took the Queen a few seconds to get over the shock. “I prefer the bagpipes,” she said. But she couldn’t stop herself smiling.
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