Don't accidentally take the piss out of a Scot
or, How I Nearly Got Glassed.

Now, I have in the past been referred to as 'an accent vacuum'. It was a joke, but it's also true; I can't seem to help myself. Chat to anyone with a strong accent and chances are I'll have picked it up within ten minutes. The only exception to this rule - one I am truly grateful for - has been the avoiding the appalling patois of the Midlands, where I currently live. (For those not in the know, the Birmingham accent is like fingernails down the blackboard of your soul)

Anyway, I digress. A few years ago I went up to Dundee to visit a mate of mine at uni. As you'd expect, we met at the train station and immediately took ourselves to a place where liquid refreshment could be bought, and indeed was bought in some quantity. During one of my many trips to the bar I got chatting to a couple of hilariously drunken bar proppers and found myself quickly developing a scots twang that would make Mel Gibson weep in envy. However, as I was now somewhat refreshed my attention started to waver along with my accent, and the younger of the two regulars grew suspicious.

‘Aye, ye’re no local. How come you’re in Dundee the day?’
I explained I’d come to visit my friend and he nodded sagely.
‘Come far?’ – a couple of hours on the train. He immediately scowled.
‘No fae south o the fuckin border?’ – yes, I’m at uni in Durham. He relaxed a little then, and so did I – even in my mildly addled state I could tell he’d been getting a little over aggressive. This, as it turned out, was a mistake. Eventually he asked me where I was from. Remembering how he’d seem a little -ahem- anti English, I cautiously said ‘Edinburgh’ – this being the only Scottish city I’d been to previously. I hoped, incorrectly as it turned out, that this would allow me to sidle away, go for a piss and finish my pint in peace with my friend. It did not.

‘Aye, I know Edinburgh,’ says he, and begins to regale me with tales of – well – Edinburgh. I can only nod and mumble, my knowledge of the place being a pubic hair’s width greater than fuck all. He begins to look suspicious again and despite my best efforts to back away, he grips my arm and treats me to a lecture about how English students are ruining the place and how ‘a wee Scottish lassie like you shouldnae leave tae go tae some fuckin poofy southern university’. He ranted on for some minutes, by which point by bladder was so full I could feel the piss creeping in to my eyes in an attempt to leave by my tear ducts – anything to relieve the pressure.

Eventually, almost in agony, I cut in: ‘Look mate – I’m sorry, but I really have to go to the bathroom.’ All delivered in my normal Lancashire accent. FUCK. I’m rumbled – my erstwhile companion now resembles Vesuvius about to blow.

‘I thought you said you was fae Edinburgh!’ he thundered. Instead of cutting my losses and running away, I stutteringly assure him that this is so and that my dad had to move down to Manchester for work when I was 10 – a complete fabrication. He rumbled for a bit more and I scarpered for a piss, before returning to my bemused friend, urging him to drink up. Against my better judgement, he insists we stay for another pint and goes to the bar, where of course he is cornered by the suspicious bar propper.

Unaware of the thick and dubious layer of bullshit I have spread, upon questioning he tells the now affable chap the truth - he's studying here, I've come to visit him, and yes we're both english. This elicits a bellow of rage and an untelligible cry of something along the lines of 'Yefuckinpisstakinbitchye!' (which I later realised was 'I suspect you may have been telling porkies' in Dundee dialect). He staggers through the pub and started to berate me, pint in hand, before dropping his pint, realising in rage that he has dropped his pint, then picked up the remnants of my friend's pint and chucked it at me - missing by worryingly few inches. Terrifyingly, he then tried to snatch my glass out of my hand and smash it in my face. In an amazing show of bravado cowardice I screamed like a girl and fucked off sharpish, leaving my mate to deal with the drunken mental who was trying to concuss him with a barstool.

Moral of the story? Don't go to a scary ass local pub in Dundee just because it does cheap pints. And don't take the piss out of scottish people, either.
(berk, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 16:11, 9 replies)

I know exactly what you mean.
Irish and Australian are my weak-points. Not good. Not good.

Particularly turning to your mate and saying, "Will ye not have enuther point ya little bollix" in some ridiculous send-up of Father Ted, when on the South side of Dublin.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 16:15, closed)

I was born and have lived on the southside of Dublin for all but three years of my life and I often get asked what country I'm from, my favorite was in a pub near my old flat in Tallaght - "are you from Europe or sometin?"
(cname, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 22:47, closed)

Scottish and west country for me
although I have been known to (rather unwisely, although not deliberately) say 'no worries mate' to an aussie and 'yew faaackin slaaaaaaag' to someone from london and not realise until some time later that by rights I should probably have had a slap in the chops.
(berk, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 22:52, closed)

Also known as 'accent osmosis'.
It is both a curse and a blessing.
( IHaveABadFeelingAboutThis most likely working from home on, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 17:16, closed)

Reminds me of a time when I was working in west Texas
Every where I went it seemed the first line after I spoke was, "you're not from around here, are ya boy?"

Although I grew up only five hours away, I found myself quickly acquiring the accent just to not sound so "weird." Made them very happy.
( BrokenCoccyx doesn't mind if you grope on, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 17:29, closed)

*shudder*
If someone said that from me I would have instantly been hypervigilant for the sound of banjos and an impending bumming.
(berk, Wed 18 Aug 2010, 22:50, closed)

^ hah!

( rofl harris, Thu 19 Aug 2010, 12:15, closed)

I wouldn't go to a pub in Dundee
And I've worked there for years!
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Thu 19 Aug 2010, 8:18, closed)

4 years at uni there
and, to be honest, there aren't that many pubs I'd go to there. One or two, but even they're probably crap now- I left 2 years ago...
( uberdeity Wondered why Owen Lars knew of the term "hell" on, Thu 19 Aug 2010, 10:46, closed)