Scottish things and people that I like

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That can isn't purple. FAKE JIMMY BUNNIT!

Q: What's Lionel Richie's African cousin called?
A: Mboza

Really? Aside from the fact that Hungary never won the WC (but, fair enough, they were supreme in the 50s), I can't find anything on the Web about this.

Scotland, World Champions 1967 indeed. At least until October when that title passed to Northern Ireland, of course.

For all my talk of national characteristics, there's one thing more than anything that makes the Scots Scottish.

The bevvy.
The peeve.
Getting pished.
THE BOOZE.

But not just the desire for drink, a trait which I'm sure you'll agree many nations share such as the Irish, the Scandinavians, the Eastern Europeans and England fans in Union Flag swimming trunks in Spain, it's the desire to consume in flagrant contradiction of legality or even just plain good taste that marks us out.

Witness, for example, the spectacle at Christmas. Small children, even the under-5s, are force-fed advocaat by well meaning grannies like French geese (with comparable effect on their livers) in the misguided belief it's "not really drinking" till they vomit spectacular rivers of eggy spew. "Poor wee love, it must be all the excitement." Aye, obviously.

Is it any wonder, then, that we continue the habit as soon as we get the chance? Alcopops were a bit of a godsend for a nation with a hugely sweet tooth, but we go for the hardcore ones rather than the bog-standard breezers. Mad Dog 20/20 drunk neat! Tonic wine! Thunderbird! These are the drinks or your glorious Scottish alkie, not johnny-come-latelys like WKD (even if it is Irn Bru flavoured). I mean come on, the Lanark triangle kept a certain community of monks in cassocks for years, and has given them enough money to buy sandals for ever more.

The inventiveness doesn't end there, however. Many big industrial sites used to have their own bars, where men would fight to pour as many drinks as possible down their throats during their lunch break before going back and trying to put a half shift in. (Seriously, I've seen people drink upwards of 6 pints in 30 minutes) But what if you worked on a site where there wasn't a bar? Well then you had to get creative. If you worked on a site where it was used, acetone wasn't half bad with the right amount of mixer. If you didn't, then it was a matter of resorting to the slightly more fragrant, and therefore harder to mix, photocopier fluid. THESE ARE NOT AS BAD DRINKS AS THEY SOUND. My knowing this may be A BAD THING.

But I suppose, at the end of the day, the best things about Scottish booze are the common things. Even the mass produced lagers are OK, but there are some great beers including the pick of the bunch, Caledonian 80/-. There's a craving for dark rum that probably beats that of anywhere else in the world. And then there's the water of life, the malt. If you don't like one, then you just haven't tried enough. There's one there for you somewhere.

If you're at the bar, I'll have a hauf and a hauf pint. Heavy, aye.

He didn't get a bonus. The first thing you do at work after receiving such news is NOTHING PRODUCTIVE. I got the same news today and I spent my afternoon ranting about Celtic's ineptitude - aldo's rants have been more interesting, though I'll never forgive him for calling me a posh hun because I buy the occasional Herald.

If "lucrative" meant even the possibility of a penny a year, given it's fun and 1) my job isn't and 2) the bonus is worth the square root of fuck all (in real terms, it's actually about two weeks wages, but you're supposed to work hard all year to get it and these are more or less real time - with work fitting in wherever) then doing this instead of actually working is several orders of magnitude "better".

Fuck me, I wish I could just write pish for a living. With an editor these screeds might be almost entertaining.

ally looks so young, in that photo!!!

I would actually like to go and visit again as an adult. I remember being taken by a child, and not being very impressed by much, except running around chasing my brother screaming and pretending to go at him with a claymore or something. My mum said there was a book where you could look people up to see if any of your ancestors had died there, and she claimed to have found quite a few.

I did like the descriptions in the book of the Highlanders being so terrifying that most of the early battles just involved the loyalists turning around running away. :-)

Or just say I can't type for the life of me, especially using this mysteriously bouncey keyboard.

I'm even more confused now!

I once heard of a guy at Celtic Park saying "aw naw er Annoni on an aw noo" which is brilliant if you say it quickly.

(trans: Oh no! There's Annoni* on as well now)
(*Enrico Annoni: pish Italian defender who was once Celtic's highest earner)

http://www.scottish.parliament.uk/vli/language/scots/index.htm

It's pure mad n'at huvvin yer ain pairliment n'at ay?

Even better than "Glaswegian Windoos" or whatever it was called.

That makes the linguist in me roll over on my back and waggle my arms and legs in the air with joy!

Awright troops!

(And FWIW, Scots is not just a "Translated for Neds" type dialect - it is actually a separate language, related to Old English/Anglo Saxon but with more Scandinavian influence and less Norman.)