Originally Posted by GOD of CUNT
Most Scottish people are like that. I've met a shit ton of English people on holiday over the years, and I've referred to every one of them as either 'English' or 'cunt'.
"English, is that your sister, and does she have grass on the wicket?"
"Here, cunt, put this in the freezer before it melts."
"What is it?"
"Who fuckin cares, cunt, just put it in the fuckin freezer."
Only person from England I've ever met that completely understood my gutteral tongue was a scouse barmaid. I have no idea how she did it. Any other English person (or any other person from any other country in the world, for that matter) I've spoken to, I've had to do it slowly in order to get them to understand what I'm actually saying. Basically have to do my best impression of Gerard Butler, and no amount of scrubbing with scalding water can cleanse that feeling from my skin.
When I'm drunk then you can forget about it, though. I don't give a shit where you're from and I don't give a shit if you understand a word that comes out of my mouth. Just put this in the freezer and we're cool. Nod and be about your business. Fuck it. Leave me to it.
Actually, Irish folks are generally pretty good at understanding Scottish people. I was so grateful for that that I bought one of them a stripper in Magaluf four years ago (and I'm absolutely serious about that. He sprung forth on her hair. And I'm absolutely serious about that as well).
@ 'does she have grass on the wicket'. 'Kin hell.
In fairness to him he was plastered all day and he spoke like a man on speed so any chance I had of understanding him was pretty limited. Then when I got drunk at about 2pm, forget about it.
There was actually a surprising amount of Scottish folk at our hotel, what was even more surprising was their lack of retreating to the indoors when the sun sprang out. Though there were a couple who pretty much spent all day navigating their way into the shade. There were a couple of Glaswegians who looked like brick shithouses, skinhead and tattoos and that 'I'll slice ya boabby off if you look at me one more time' look. Think there were Celtic and Rangers fans so I'm amazed there was never even a hint of a scuffle.
Supposedly one girl was a bit of a slag, to the point where she went up to 4 lads from Preston in the lobby, told 'em she had 'a drawing on her fanny', then whipped it out on display when one of them enquired further. There was also one Ginger Oxford lad who was quite the cunt at the best of times, let alone when he was half cut. I still expected to wake up and find the only trace of his existence being the fine ginger hairs on his forehead when he started slowly mimicking the scottish accent to a table full of them.