Whenever you need me, you don't have me in hand. I am known to be scottish, but I'm also known to pack. I also store memories, find me back in the nineties. Music and movies are my common varieties.

I can be a stiff drink you get down at the pub, Or a stiff blow you get from a big, fat club. You might tighten me in a time of great hunger, But my most famous is above, adorning a hunter.

I spin in circles day and night, turning separate things just right. With whirls and swirls I work my tricks. From batter, dough, or drink, I twist What am I?

A magazine with a high number of bullets. I am also used to store harmful chemicals. I can often be found in marching bands or be used to intimidate my enemies on the battlefield.

Cut off my head to see something to scale. Cut out my neck to make me much worse. With neither I'm in borrowed burrows through winter. Constant refilling is my miserable curse.