The Galwegian Haggis Wraith

Frank Schott

“12:31” by Frank Schott (2011)

Once more from the obscurity of my strange mind comes a weird (yet informative) article on a creature which most people probably think doesn’t exist.  What’s that?  You’ve never heard of the Galwegian Haggis Wraith either?  Well you’re in the right place for an enthralling crash course education!  Written on the 31st January 2017.

The Galwegian Haggis Wraith

In Galwegian folklore (not to be confused with Glaswegian folklore), a haggis wraith is a supernatural entity that appears as a deformed and/or ferocious-looking lump of fur. Haggis wraiths are the ancestral spirits of long dead haggises, and are regularly seen flying around graveyards, forests and beaches at night in a whirlwind of pure, undiluted Scottishness. The fact that they fly at all is quite interesting, as living haggises and their forefathers (such as the woolly haggis, sabre-toothed haggis and iron age hamster) were never capable of flight. The earliest cave paintings depicting their ancestors reveal that the closest they ever got to air propulsion was when Galwegian cavemen threw them at each other in lieu of snowballs. It is believed that their new-found ability to whiz through the air like hairy frisbees is due to either as-yet discovered paranormal reasoning, or possibly the ignition of methane from their characteristically long, drawn out expulsions of wind.

Haggis wraiths are usually described as “hairier than sin” (according to Hangman’s Bestiary, the authoritative scholarly text on wonderful creatures that may or may not have existed). Their hue can range from the most vibrant of ginger to the inkiest of black and includes many shades of grey, white and the occasional patterned variant, much like the common household cat. It has four legs, though they are so tiny they could be considered inverted and are therefore not worth considering at all. From a distance they could be mistaken for large, mouldy sausages or black puddings which have been left outside in the rain too long, and from up close they are regularly mistaken for dishevelled hedgehogs that got into a fight with a bag of wool.

The creatures are known across Galloway for being supremely ferocious and many herds of the famed belted Galloway cattle have been reduced to mere bones by their ilk. They also have a propensity to gnaw at the ankles of fishermen if they fall asleep at the rod after dusk. In 1678 such an incident occurred to attest to their ferocity that the creature was subsequently placed on the National Register of Heathenish Entities, that being when the entire population of the village of Broadstone was wiped out by an infestation of haggis wraiths when a local clergyman discovered a nest in the church’s bell tower and poked it with a bible.

The haggis wraith is an exceptionally patriotic creature of legend, and as such will only yield in its attack (especially if it is swarming with other members of its hive) if the person or animal being set upon cries for leniency in a decidedly Galloway-Irish accent. This behaviour goes some way to explain why infinitely more foreign people die of haggis wraith attacks in the region than locals. Currently, the ratio stands at ten to one, with only one Galwegian dying from an attack for every ten outsiders that fall victim to their infamous rage. According to Archibald McLean’s Scots Folklore Bible, haggis wraiths sometimes carry a rare strain of malaria. Though this is merely conjecture (allegedly an attempt to keep highlanders out of the lowlands), a lot of people believe it to be fact and as such the Tourist Information Board of Scotland has had to inject huge resources into an awareness campaign to inform potential visitors that malaria in Scotland died out with the kelp bears in the late seventeenth century.

Ebenezer Hangman identifies haggis wraiths as “one of the most memorable and distinctive figures in Scottish folklore that look like hairy, spectral sausages”, and observes that they are “strikingly fluffy” and often exhibit “borderline genocidal tendencies”. Hangman also speculated that if provoked enough, a haggis wraith is capable of spontaneous combustion as a last resort defence mechanism, though as yet no fatalities have been recorded regarding this extreme behaviour. Despite this, it must be noted that a farm near Leswalt was once blown up by something that the insurance policy holder insisted was a free-floating haggis of indeterminate origin and disposition.

The haggis wraith’s influence stretches far and wide. Romanticised depictions of it have appeared in many novels and poems, with the first reference to it in literature occurring in 1412 in John J. Harg’s Horror of Clayhole. In this groundbreaking historical novel, Harg mentions the haggis wraith many times and makes note of it being both the “scourge of the Rhins” and the “matted beastie of St. John’s Chapel”. The haggis wraith has also been portrayed in other forms of media, most notably in Touching Cloth Pictures’ 1972 film noir classic, The Teased Bishop.

In summation, the haggis wraith of legend is an entity to be both feared and respected. If the tales are to be believed then it is the cause of more than thirty thousand untimely deaths, the wiping out of eleven villages and the destruction of more farmland and forests than the bubonic porridge louse during the Lowlands Renaissance. A creature of almost stoic mysticism, it will remain an icon of Scottish lore for as long as there are tartan tongues to speak of it, dancing and flitting in the evening gloaming between the ancient tombstones and pines of the majestic Galloway hills.

When Nature Fails: Daddy Long Legs


“Crane Fly” by Derek Parker (2014)

Nature, God, Earth Spirits, call them what you will but they don’t always get it right.  Perhaps the most spectacular fail in biology is the crane fly AKA daddy long legs.  Nobody likes them, and with very good reason.  The following is a quick overview of these…things…and an outline as to why they suck as profusely as they do.  Written on the 31st January 2017.

When Nature Fails:  Daddy Long Legs

A daddy long legs is a stupid thing that has no right to exist. Simply put, it’s a piece of crap. Utterly incapable of flight or anything even remotely resembling it, this idiotic creature still finds it necessary to have wings and ruin magical moments with its foul presence. Much like the penguin or Egyptian dodo, this winged-yet-land-bound animal is a true failure at life and as such is fully deserving of the extinction that it surely deserves and is long overdue.

Asides from its completely pointless wings which all other flying insects laugh at, it has a long body somewhat resembling a poorly rolled cigarette or elongated length of goldfish poo, though a stringy piece of fish crap is infinitely more pleasurable to be around than these disgusting things. It also has long spindly legs, not dissimilar to those of a spider, though unlike a spider it has absolutely no redeeming qualities. Actually no, you can pull their legs off fairly easily which is probably quite exciting if you’re a psychopath and into that sort of thing. The creature’s face is also uglier than sin and will make you want to stomp on it if it ever comes anywhere near you.

Speaking of which, if a daddy long legs does ever somehow managed to make its way towards you via the spasmodic and hysterical dance routine it probably thinks constitutes flying, you will immediately want to projectile vomit all over it to keep this degenerate filth-spawn at bay. These cretins have a propensity for targeting faces, particularly those of people who harbour an intense and lifelong dislike for them (i.e. everyone in existence). Despite having zero navigational skills or homing abilities, they can and will, without fail or hesitation make it their sworn mission from God himself to batter themselves and their stupid bodies off your screaming face forever until either you or they die of stress. The most efficient counter measure against this obnoxious behaviour is to strike at them wildly with heavy objects and/or projectile-firing weapons. Fire is also strongly recommended.

God was once quoted in Good Housekeeping Magazine as saying that he hates daddy long legs with a passion only rivalled by his disdain for Adolf Hitler, and that he only made them because he was drunk on celestial moonshine (again, just like Hitler).

Daddy long legs also have redundant straw things jutting out of the front of their hideous faces like they were stabbed with the world’s tiniest chop sticks. Perhaps they’re beaks or something but whatever the case, nobody actually cares. Despite having these ludicrous straws, the only thing that they manage to suck, is all the fun out of life. Some biologists speculate that the insects feed off the blood of shrews and voles but this is without doubt a massive lie because I’ve never seen them manage anything properly, let alone the basics of life like eating to stay alive. Other biologists and certain members of the clergy assert that they are a form of lesser demon or insect djinn and that the straws are horns gifted to them by Satan himself. I am very much inclined to agree with this hypothesis because I have never encountered another living creature which instils me with as much hatred and the desire to kill as these worthless things do.

In springtime, if you are really unfortunate, you might see these repulsive atrocities of the animal kingdom come sprouting out of your lawn like a bunch of miniature pencils with Parkinson’s disease. The general consensus is that they are crawling out of Hell because even Satan’s had enough of their asinine antics. It is strongly advised that you jump around the garden stomping their numbers into oblivion. This may initially seem cruel, but you are actually doing them a massive favour by releasing them from the terrible binds of life as a forsaken daddy long legs piece of crap.

Even when they’re innocent little maggots they still manage to suck because they’re only a reminder of things to come: a god damn disaster.

Blackbeard – A Life of Fabulousness


“A Very Jolly Roger” by Neil Dinsmore (2016)

Most people think Blackbeard was just some kind of pirate captain with a beef against life.  They are of course, completely wrong.  Blackbeard was a lot more than that.  For example, did you know he was also a wizard who dealt cocaine?  Didn’t think so.  So here is the complete and historically accurate biography of the one and only, fabulous party icon of the Caribbean.  Written on the 17th September 2016.

Blackbeard – A Life of Fabulousness

Edward “Blackbeard” Teach (c. 1680 – 22nd November 1718) was a trendsetting wizard, smooth pirate, heroin dealer, inventor of the LCD watch and admiral of the Caribbean Party Armada. It is not clear what his real name actually was; some historians believe his surname may really have been Thatch whist others believe it to be either Umboogoo or Clampett.

Blackbeard made himself famous during his outlandish activities in the Caribbean, primarily dealing his exotic black tar heroin in Spanish settlements, introducing chlamydia to Dutch ones and establishing the modern hip hop scene in Mexico. He also earned a reputation as one of the most flamboyant and cutting edge wizards in history, as well as one of the most talented rumba dancers amongst those active along the Spanish Main at the time. Blackbeard also had a tendency to attack the bejesus out of merchant ships and rudimentary helicopters in the Caribbean and the American colonies.

Undeniably, his best known ship was the Leipzig Party Galleon. At over three hundred feet long and with a cargo capacity of 600bm, it was the largest ship to ever be a registered charity and it was also notable for being the only galleon to ever sail the Caribbean sideways. It is thought to have run aground at the summit of Mount Olympus after its caches of cocaine were spilled during a particularly outrageous party in 1718.

No one knows for sure how many fingers Blackbeard had. A layman might not think this is particularly important but the number of fingers a smooth pirate or marine wizard had played a significant role in how well he could dance and/or perform party magic. The famous children’s book A General History of Motherfucking Wizards says that he had as many as fourteen fingers, but as he was never seen without his trademark leopardskin latex gloves on, no one can really be certain.

During his lifetime, Blackbeard often competed in maritime dance-offs whilst wearing the outlandish feather boa and a hot pink PVC pork pie hat his mum gave him for his eighteenth birthday. He also enjoyed wearing gratuitous amounts of glitter, sequins and silly string about his person in addition to brandishing two confetti cannons at all times. Some of his ancient instagram pictures depict him with a well-maintained horseshoe moustache, proving that he was at one with his feminine side. Blackbeard also used to weave neon pipe cleaners into his enormous hedge of facial hair during high octane dance battles or extreme displays of his über-wizardry. The pipe cleaners unravelled slowly during the course of the excitement and were designed to confuse and discombobulate opponents. They were also instrumental in making him look exceedingly fabulous. He probably got the idea from somebody else, as it was an exceptionally popular nuance of pirates and wizards during the golden age of piracy.


Early Life

Blackbeard is thought to have been born in a peg leg distribution centre near Bristol, England in 1680, the same year disco was invented. Teach was born with the power of party magic and so went to sea as a scuttle wizard when he was very young. He originally served on an English inflatable party ship in the War of the Spanish Balloons, creating and dealing wizard drugs in the Spanish West Indies and along the Spanish Main. At the war’s end in 1713, Teach, like many other drug dealers, briefly turned to male prostitution, DJing in clubs up and down the Caribbean and even indulged in a tiny little smidgen of highly illegal and much frowned upon piracy.


Blackbeard the Grand Pirate Wizard

Teach began as a journeyman wizard under Captain “Too Fresh” Benji Hornigoat. In 1716, Hornigoat retired from active wizardry when he slipped on a banana and fractured his beard, deciding that he would much rather take advantage of an amnesty offered to former pirate wizards by the British government than get his beard put in a cast. Teach then took command of his own ship and immediately painted it hot pink with glitter infused into its hull, hoisted his own jolly roger featuring two turntables and a microphone and set sail with a crew of newly hired pirates and amateur magicians.

During the next two years, Blackbeard attacked merchant ships and seagull-powered helicopters, forcing them to allow his misfit crew to board with the threat of a confetti cannon to the face. The pirates would seize all of the valuables, including popping candy, hypodermic needles, liquid nitrogen and semi-automatic swords. Ironically, despite his ferocious reputation, there are no verified accounts of him actually killing anyone with anything other than a pencil or a mop.


Capture and Death

Grothgar the Mole King eventually learned of Blackbeard’s Caribbean adventures and became quite jealous. Despite his moniker, Grothgar was not actually a mole at all, but rather the leper governor of North Carolina who had a severe skin condition and looked spectacularly ugly. He sent two anti-magic, anti-fun ships after Blackbeard with hopes of slaying him and achieving some degree of fame from it.

Teach was said to have been shot full of black tar heroin fifteen times and stabbed more than a hundred times with injections of Mexican cocaine before he eventually died. The effects of the drugs are said to have caused his head to shoot off and fire across the bay, whereupon it landed on top of a flagpole. Legends about his grizzly death immediately started to circulate. His headless body apparently back flipped overboard and managed to swim to shore, steal a parked man-of-war, sail it back to his own ship, sink it with his confetti cannons, laugh, stop laughing when he realised he’d sunk the wrong ship, become incredibly angry and then turn the cannons on his original attackers, obliterating them spectacularly. Then he keeled over dead and his body turned into a sausage. In lieu of Blackbeard’s head, the sausage was retrieved by a surviving crewman and taken back to England where it was impaled on a gate in a London park.

Later, Teach’s dried sausage was turned into a novelty shower fixture and sold on eBay.

A Study of Neranids


“Jellyfish at Royal Burgers’ Zoo” by Wihoda (2016)

There are many mysteries regarding the vastness of the universe, until recently perhaps none more intriguing than the possibility of the existence of life beyond the boundaries of our own planet. The neranid is a recently discovered creature of which little is known, but what little there is has now been gathered here for your scientific enlightenment and reading enjoyment. Originally written on the 8th September 2016.

A Study of Neranids

Neranids are large, brain-like creatures which inhabit the distant reaches of certain star systems. From scientific observations, they are believed to be around thirty metres in diameter. Due to a lack of information on their biological make up, their mass is currently unknown.

Neranids are classified by the scientific community as free-floating cosmic beings with a gelatinous human brain-shaped bell and trailing tentacles. In addition to housing all vital organs, the bell can also pulsate to help propel them through space at speeds of up to twenty miles per hour. The creature’s tentacles sprout from their bloated undercarriage and can grow to be up to several kilometres long. These are used primarily to catch its main food source of space lampreys and tube worms, which it captures and kills by emitting lethal toxins and crippling ultrasound. Despite looking almost exactly like a human brain, comparisons have also been drawn between them and the common jellyfish of Earth, both in terms of physical characteristics and mannerisms.

The neranid’s epidermis is covered in a thick, oil-like substance, and it was through the reflection of distant stars upon its surface that resulted in our scientist’s first observations of them through deep space telescopes. The animal’s slick coating is also believed to help them attract mates. In contrast to the adults, juvenile neranids lack the viscous coating of their parents and instead emit a dull phosphorescent glow which it gradually loses until it reaches maturity.

From recent observations, neranids have been discovered in almost every galaxy known to man, including our own. From just beyond the atmospheres of planets to the distant depths of deep space, the extremely hardy and versatile creatures appear to thrive in almost any vacuumous environment. The only exceptions to this rule appear to be asteroid fields, which the creatures cautiously avoid. Due to its requirement of extremely cold temperatures and a vacuum in which to survive, the largest neranids can only be found in certain locations which are precise distances from stars. These areas are now referred to as “neranid zones”. In addition to these animals, the zones are also an ecological hotspot for the space lamprey, certain strands of cosmic fungi and plasma rods.

The reproductive cycle and habits of the neranid are not fully understood at this time, though there is ongoing speculation that the creature might be hermaphroditic as evidenced by their behaviour towards others. The nomadic animal has on several occasions been observed getting into vicious and more often than not fatal fights with other members of its wandering species.

Neranids are estimated to have roamed the universe for at least eight hundred million years, and possibly a billion years or more, making them the oldest multi-organ animal known to man. In addition to being organisms capable of life without oxygen, they are also believed to be highly resistant to radiation, as evidenced by their ability to live comfortably in even the most deadly of radioactive galaxies.

Whilst there are currently no known natural predators of neranids, it is believed that there may be something as yet undiscovered out there which feeds upon them, as an unchecked population would certainly be much larger than it currently appears to be.

Stephanie McMahon – A Life of Privilege

Whore SM

“Devil-Faced Witch”

Here’s another entry from my unreleased book, Hangman’s Wrestling Bestiary.  A short biography of a woman I have absolutely no time for, Stephanie McMahon.  Originally written on the 9th October 2014.

Stephanie McMahon – A Life of Privilege

Think sports-entertainment is a man’s world? Well this colossal whore won’t make you change your mind anytime soon. Mr. McMahon’s only white daughter, this fervent consumer of penis-flavoured lollipops has been bossing WWE’s most mentally disabled and learning impaired employees around since she was old enough to form incoherent sentences about male genitalia. As one of the principal owners of a 1980s camper van and WWE’s Head Chef, however, she does a lot more than just shake her tits and sound like a barfly lesbian at an all-you-can-eat gravel buffet. She’s proven herself to be a master of flatulence, ineptitude, commercial stupidity and writing impairment. Also, she stinks like a hamster cage. She’s also a part time man with which to be reckoned both in and out of the sauna. After all, how many phalluses does it take to suck your way to the top? About thirty. Just ask any of the backstage WWE personnel she’s bequeathed the gift of oral sex unto in the name of furthering her career. Take her own father for example. His granddaughters are allegedly also his daughters. She’s also been branded the “Most Vile Bitch in World History”, though that is admittedly a bit of a stretch considering most of the world hasn’t even heard of this standoffish troll. She is also a former Women’s Special Olympics Champion (although she cheated and was later stripped of her medal).

With the benefit of being born into a stupidly rich family and having everything handed to her her entire life, Stephanie first got in on the family business by sucking off fans. Later, she started sucking off wrestlers, before finally graduating to sucking off business executives and people she doesn’t like. By the time WWE’s “Attitude Era” had taken pop culture by storm, the incompetent, worthless and totally full of herself young McMahon was caught up in a redundant sex rivalry between her father’s Corporation of Consent and the Undertaker’s diabolical Ministry of Mamba. She may have appeared overwhelmed at first, no doubt because she was, but within years of her uninteresting debut, Stephanie had wed her father, gotten a divorce, married some guy who was just aching for backstage power, Triple H, and orchestrated a totally uninspired takeover storyline of WWE. It quickly became obvious that the sluttiest McMahon to ever sound like a drunk lumberjack did not have one single iota of creativity when it came to writing wrestling storylines. Also, it was later discovered by doctors that she didn’t carry two X chromosomes, making her an actual man in the eyes of the law.

In recent years, the former woman and all-round worthless bag of silicone has made sporadic on-air appearances whenever she feels like it because her daddy owns a TV show. A self-imposed reign as Women’s Champion, a self-imposed stint as Smackdown’s General Practitioner of Mediocre Entertainment, a self-imposed position as head writer for both Smackdown and WWE as a whole (a job at which she sucks more than her impressive oral intercourse skills), and of course a self-imposed and fully-fledged copycat re-enactment of her billionaire father’s footsteps as half of The Authority (a tired and utterly devoid of all merit rehashing of the Corporation of Consent from the 90s). All of this has ensured the everlasting expansion of Stephanie’s queendom of self-loving and privilege.

Away from the bland and fantastically boring content of modern day WWE TV (shaped and helmed by the talentless inherit-a-monopoly slag herself), Stephanie continues to force the fraudulent image of a person playing an active role in the community. As a grudging and clearly fake supporter of various charities that she doesn’t even know the names of, as well as being a strong advocate for the “Be a STUD” anti-bullying campaign, Stephanie wants everyone to think she’s kind and has a heart, although this is simply not the case and is merely a business tactic akin to advertising and brand awareness.

Whether inside the squared circle or a WWE employee’s bedroom, she’s never at a loss for manipulation or generally being a low down, greedy, full of herself whore with big plastic juggs and a horrendous, nightmare-inducing voice that tames penises into a false sense of security before she can suck them into la la land. WWE may be considered a man’s world (because it is), but Stephanie continues to be a man pretending to be a woman, one who is firmly in charge of her rich parent’s chequebook.

Jim Ross – A Barbecued Biography


An Obese Redneck in a Suit

An entry from an unreleased book I wrote entitled Hangman’s Wrestling Bestiary.  Originally written on the 9th October 2014.

Jim Ross – A Barbecued Biography

When the overwhelming stench of BBQ sauce is coming, you know that business is about to go bust. That’s because everyone’s favourite fat bastard and all-around twat, “Good Ol’ Jim Ross, has just entered the arena looking like a microwaved marshmallow and it’s time to start Monday Night Raw. For far too long now, the big fat mouth and slurred voice that goes with it has been a staple of WWE mediocrity and JR is now considered perhaps the most arrogant, bias, fat and irritating bullshitters to ever be allowed to wear a headset.

Like many of the fabulous superstars he tells how to dress in skimpy tight skin shorts and baby oil each week, Ross began his career as a judge in Mr. Ripped USA pageants around the various states of Mexico before finally making it to WWE somehow. He was once a locker room relief worker for Freddie Fudge and Paul Powers’ critically panned alternative-lifestyle wrestling promotion “Fabulous Wrestling Syndicate” and later became an announcer for the Steroid Uncensored XXX television channel when Freddie Fudge approached him from behind and led to their subsequent falling out. During the late 1980s and early 1990s, JR was well into his nineties and weighed in excess of forty stone. This is of particular relevance because it was due to his weight and age that he gained the nicknames “Old Blubber Ass” and the “Geriatric Jackass”. These names stuck with him for the rest of his career, and according to Pat Patterson he got them tattooed on the inside of his foreskin. Mr. Ross was one of the absolute worst announcers in the old WCW organisation and worked atrociously with the likes of Tony Anchovy and Jesse “The Booty” Penchewa, who all openly hated him and wished he would copulate himself right off a cliff.

But Ross’ big BBQ break came in 1993 when he left a correctional facility for molesters of dwarfs to go and be an announcer for the elitist World Wrestling Federation. WWE fans heard JR attempt to call play-by-play for the first time at Wrestlemania IX, but his voice was so shit and slurred, no one could understand him. This was in Las Vegas, Nevada where in an apparent effort to look ghetto fabulous, he sported a fluorescent pink thong for his debut. That event would begin one of the worst ever runs by an announcer in the history of absolutely everything, but particularly sports entertainment.

Since joining WWE, Jim “Flaps” Ross has become more hated that the Ku Klux Clan, Adolf Shitler and Scrappy Doo. Many of the top superstars in WWE want him dead because his work on the air and even in the ring on occasion has made them all targets for global terrorism. He has touched many men’s asses in the locker room and has been slapped for it numerous times. He was even slapped once by the Undertaker after getting caught sniffing the Dean Man’s jockstrap. JR has even “written” two cookbooks all based around one ingredient. Yep, you guessed it. Dog shit. These books were immediately banned and Ross replaced them with a new series of books focusing much more on BBQ sauce than canine excrement. All of his books were written in BBQ sauce rather than ink and his publishing house wiped their asses with the manuscripts. A devout lard ass, Jim Bob likes southern cuisine and particularly enjoys the pleasures of a well cooked chicken (mainly because he is a redneck chicken abuser). His trademark hat, legendarily horrendous voice, and unique clichés describing none of the action are more reasons why he has been fired for real on numerous occasions. He is despised around the world and considered worse than vaginal cholera by the World Sexual Health Organisation.