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Those were the days.
... walk into a haunted house and see a Β£5 note on a table. The English man walks up to the table and hears a voice "I am the ghost of able Mable and that Β£5 note belongs on that table". He gets scared and runs away. The Irish man approaches the table and hears the same voice " I am the ghost of able Mable and that Β£5 note belongs on that table". He gets scared and runs away as well. The Scots man walks up to the table and hears the same voice " I am the ghost of able Mable and that Β£5 note belongs on that table". He says "I am the son of David Crocket and thatΒ£5 note belongs in my pocket".
Kilt.
A raw bar bairn.
And there is nothing worse for a Scot than being off kilter.
The police are still searching for the person who kilt him.
Well plaid, phone. Well plaid.
...there would be a meth-od behind his madness.
They totally kilt it.
Ten-Ish
Scotch.
Because the rest of the UK will get away scot-free.
Driving them back to their house, he points over at a business and says to her "Maybe I should work for that company there?
She looks over and asks "Amscot?"
To which he replies "Yeah, I am Scot."
I laughed out loud.
... then rest of Britain will go away scot-free.
As soon as I get home for the weekend he opens with the question: "Do you know why there are a lot of Scots called Donald but very few called Walt? Most people say it's because they think Walt is an English name but that's not true. It's because Walt always hits his head on the door. Why?
(In the worst Scottish accent imaginable) Because Donald Ducks but Walt Disney.
I walked in and my wife and her brother were talking about the Scottish referendum to leave the UK. Brother-in-law asked what I think. I said there is no chance they get away Scot-free.
