
Scottish Word: Tube.
Ah’d like tae get my hands oan the tube wha picked me tae be stuck in this spinnin space cylinder fur a lifetime. AND the tube wha decided tae shunt us aff intae interstellar space fur … Continue reading Tube.
Ah’d like tae get my hands oan the tube wha picked me tae be stuck in this spinnin space cylinder fur a lifetime. AND the tube wha decided tae shunt us aff intae interstellar space fur … Continue reading Tube.
And if sir will only tak a taste o the Thomas Laxton ahm drappin here – ye’ll find that unlike the pickant, tho sweet nebbiness o yer previous Early Perfection yiv jist swallied – that it’ll … Continue reading Souch.
Keep yer heid doon Willie, the Bonxies are parteeclarly skeery this year ahn no tae be trifled wi. Ah think they’ve run oot o patience wi us plundering the sea o its bounty fur personal profit. … Continue reading Bonxie.
Aye… yer weel-hained fur a kirkyaird deserter. I’m hoping ahm as douchty as yersel if ah live so long as you must huv. Translate: weel-hained: well preserved, taken care of. I must say… you are very … Continue reading Weel-hained.
Hoo’d a thoucht that yer cranniewanny clook wid be as teuch tae manicure as yer ither clooks eh? Did ye ken I mak doon the nail shavins an sell the pouder as sneeshin? An I must … Continue reading Cranniewanny.
Ah’m awfie sorry Tabbatha but yer pal’s a hoor o a gamaleerie. Ahm afraid she’ll hae tae get her jotters. We’ll never win oor siller gilt at the Freuchie flooer show at this rate. She’ll hae … Continue reading Gamaleerie.
Ah’n ahm tellin ye son nae matter hoo laithsome scunnery bluidie this is, the bastards will be rinnin cyclin tours roond the landin sites in seventy five years time. Merk my words. If’m we live so … Continue reading Bluidie.
Run ya sad oanshach ye, yer aboot tae become a creishy sludder fou o sclinters and channer sclatched aw oer the grund. Translate: sludder: something wet and slimy like mud. Run you sad sorry fool you, … Continue reading Sludder.
Aye, wi one ee I never see double or get skellie ee’d nae matter how long I’m oan the swallie. Mind you it maks me fair hungert an I aften fire up a barbecue. I like … Continue reading Swallie.
Ye play wi a fell poustie passion ahn yet yir pinions are feather licht dancin oer the keys. Maddré the penguin’s practically levitating aff the rug – dirlin wi the joy o it. Ahn the waiter’s … Continue reading Poust.