Welcome To Scotland After the the disaster at Lloyds, an underwriter fled London for his own safety. He bought a bothey--a tiny cottage--in the highlands. His nearest neighbour was 86 miles away and The nearest village was 186 miles away nearly. And he is sat there one night, its pitch black, its raining sideways like it does up there and there is a knock at the door. "I wonder who could that be at this time of night," he thought. Or words to that effect. He opened the door and there's the biggest Scotsman you've ever seen standing there with the rain dripping off his eyebrows and he's got the knife down the sock, he's wearing the sporon and the kilt and the fluffy thing and the feather in the hat. He said, "Hello laddy!" The English lad says politely, "Hello." "Your new to the glen?" Said the Scotsman. "Yes, yes, I am." "Aye Well, to welcome you to the glen we're going to have a kayli." Thank you very much. "What's a kayli?" The Scotsman said, "there'll be singing, there'll be dancing, there'll be drinking and there'll be sex." "I'll go and get changed." "There's no need to bother laddy," said the Scotsman, "there'll just be the two of us."