Burns night

McSweens haggis, last year’s purple topped turnip, mashed Sarpo Miro tatties, and a generous drachm of Glenfiddich 12. It may not look like much, but it’s a dinner fit for a snow-encrusted Scottish evening.

And to follow I watch an expletive-fortified Frankie Boyle gig from last year in Glasgow. The tension arrives with the punchline.