This is me, Eccles

This is me, Eccles
This is me, Eccles

Sunday, 23 March 2014

The massacre of Glencoe

Just for a change, here is a post that has nothing to do with religion. It tells the story of how the Campbells massacred the MacDonnellys in 1692.

the highlanders

A tale of Bonnie Scotland.

The Laird of the Clan Campbell was a braw man named Michael, who ruled his territory with an iron hand. At least he did, except when it was invaded by a tribe of PICTAs ("Protestant Invaders Call To Action"), in which case he tended to lie down on the ground and let them tickle his tummy.

The PICTAs were fearsome warriors, about which many ballads were sung, for example:

Rebekah O'Keeffe
Has a fine set of teeffe,
And she bites even hardeur
Than Ann Lardeur.

ACTA demon

A PICTA warrior frightens two harmless clerics.

Anyway, Michael, the Laird, was a learned man, who wrote a journal, which he entitled "blog". In it he recorded the insights that had occurred to him in his life as a laird. With admirable restraint, he did not post many pictures of what he had for dinner, probably because in those days he would have to wait around while an artist painted it.

Michael Campbell

The Laird.

However, Campbell was much troubled by the clan MacDonnelly; its own laird, Nick by name, published a far more interesting journal, showing a greater awareness of the evils that beset Bonnie Scotland. In particular, he was none too sympathetic to the PICTA tribe, arguing that they were simply rebels who threatened the Pope, to whom he (and the Laird Campbell) owed allegiance.

Pope and Bovril

Protecting the Pope, by feeding him on traditional Highland food.

Thus the Laird Campbell became angry, for many fewer people read his own blog than that of his rival MacDonnelly. "Fighting against the World, the Flesh and the Devil is MY job, even if I don't do it very well," he said. Thus the Campbells lured the MacDonnellys into a lonely glen, and vanquished them. Nick MacDonnelly was exiled to a primitive hovel - some say it was a shed, but that may be a myth - where he was ordered to stop blogging, and to pray and reflect. It is not recorded whether Michael Campbell also vowed to pray and reflect.

However, this is not the end of the story. After the massacre, there remained at large the wife of Nick MacDonnelly, a mysterious woman known only as "M"; showing great courage, she carried on the MacDonnelly chronicles while her husband languished in exile.


A mysterious woman known only as "M".


  1. With sour-featured Whigs Beda's lawns were full crammed,
    As if half the hierarchy had set tryst to be hanged;
    There was spite in each look, there was fear in each e'e,
    As they watched for the next blog of Brave Donnelly

    There are hills beyond Preston and lands beyond Louth,
    Be there cowards i' the north, there are trads i' the south!
    And lay catholic bloggers three thousand times three
    Will cry "Hai!" for the blogposts o' brave Donnelly

    Away to the hills, to the caves, to the rocks
    Ere I own Enda Kenny, I'll couch with the fox;
    And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee,
    You have not seen the last of my blogging and me!"

    With apologies to Graham of Claverhouse, Sir Walter Scott, the other half of the hierarchy etc etc

  2. It all started off in Rome as a bit of a joke at the end of a long meal at the high table in the Beda College, with the various bishops on their annual jolly (which they call a "visitation") and the Rector plying them with the best food and wine that far-off Catholic parishioners in cash-strapped Blighty could afford. Conversation over the trifle turned to football and the Rector - who was merry on his third bottle of Frascati - expressed the wish that the Beda would thrash the English College for the third year running, thanks to their energetic third-world seminarian players. The Dean of Studies - on his forth bottle of Frascati - said, "Let's slaughter the buggers!" The bishops - all on their fifth bottle of Frascati and in a different conversation about problems at home - heard this as "slaughter the bloggers". They returned to England next day - cementing their resolve over gin and tonics in club class - and the rest is history.

  3. Eccles Your bogs are fantastic. I nearly always fall out of my chair laughing. Brilliant stuff.

  4. The brother of Glen, Seb Coe was a great runner some years ago. Glen Coe had a volcanic temper & was known to erupt occasionally. However, he ran for several miles along it back & forth when he was angry until he cried. He was known also as "Weeping Glen", as a result.

    1. You didn't mention that Glen Coe also caused a bit of a stir because he used to wear eye liner which ran down his cheeks during his frequent bouts of crying. People used to travel great distances to see the phenomenon of the mascara of Glen Coe.

  5. You're all so clever and funny! Thank you. What a way to make a point!!

  6. One might be excused for thinking that this battle took place more recently than 1692…

    But I suspect this is another effect of the aging process - where one remembers things in the distant past and forgets what happened yesterday.

    Now where did I put my spectacles?