In the paw prints of Hamlet

For some reason, The Rents decided I needed some culture. I can’t understand why. We Scots have bags of culture, what with the bag pipes and haggis hunting. So they dragged me off to Helsingør, a town that has been pulling in tourists for hundreds of years on the back of some English guy called Shakespeare writing some play about a cigar. As far as I can see, the only decent line in the whole thing predicts my future: “The cat will mew and the dog will have its day”. I wonder if the cat is called Yorick?

PS
Damn fine people, the Danes, I don’t care what anyone says about something being rotten in the state of Denmark.