Though most people will be familiar with Cockney rhyming slang, they perhaps won’t know that Scotland also has its own version.
Keeping up with Scots words, the accent and even regional dialects can be hard enough, but throw in Scotland’s love of word play and it can leave many without a Scooby (as in Doo – clue, get it?).
From asking someone if they are Corned Beef to going for a Chic Murray – here are some of our favourite Scottish rhyming slang phrases.
Chic Murray – Curry
Though many have started using another famous Scottish Murray for this one (Andy), it will always be the original and best for us.
Example: “Fancy a wee Chic Murray for dinner tonight? I canny be bothered cooking.”
Corned Beef – Deif/Deaf
This one sees corned beef rhymed with deif (the way Scots would pronounce deaf), and is usually aimed at someone who isn’t listening.
Example: “Listen pal, are you corned beef? I told you to beat it.”
Hauf Inch – Pinch
A good one for someone who is known to be on the light-fingered side.
Example: “Aye it’s a cracker eh? Wee Davey hauf inched it for us.”
Mick Jagger – Lager
If someone asks if you fancy a Mick Jagger, it’s usually an invite for a pint and not referring to the great man himself.
Example: “I’m guessing most us will be choking for a Mick Jagger when the restrictions are over and the pubs re-open.”
Hampden Roar – Score
Though you might think this would be used for football, it’s more likely to be used when asking for more details about something.
Example: “What’s the Hampden for later? Where are we going?”
by Skye Butchard
Glasgow singer-songwriter Lizzie Reid arrives with a fully-formed sound on her debut EP, Cubicle. It’s a warm and intimate collection of folk and rock songs that showcases her clear skill for storytelling, and a surprisingly diverse range of sounds for a compact collection. The project documents a break-up, and her first same-sex relationship. But its welcoming homespun atmosphere acts as its hidden strength. Recorded at her home in ten days before the first lockdown in March, the project truly exists within that period of stasis.
“We were kind of disconnected by what was going on in the world,” Lizzie says during our Zoom call. “Everyone was freaking out about COVID and isolation, and we were in a completely different headspace. Lockdown came about two days after Oli [Barton-Wood, the record’s producer whose credits include Nilüfer Yanya and Molly Payton] left. I remember at the time thinking, ‘wow those ten days, what a long time to just be in the house.’ Little did I know that would be the next nine months of my life.”
Despite the intimate setting, there was an underlying pressure on the recording process. “We’d already announced that we were going to be releasing music this year so this needed to be the one,” Reid says. “I had recorded a few times with the idea of releasing, but it was never quite right, I felt like it could go one of two ways, but when it came down to it, this had to be the one. I’m a very anxious person… I do always have a sense of time. There was less of that because we were at home the whole time.”
That homely quality manifests through a wonderfully close recording. The gentle fingerpicked guitars of Always Lovely, the closeness of Reid’s breath on the mic – and even the gentle meowing of her cat Ivan at the end of Seamless – all offer heartfelt textures that might not have been captured without a home recording. The sense of home continues with her bandmates, with Reid’s cousin Catriona playing cello twice across the project.
Renowned Scottish five piece folk band Breabach perform an old Scottish Gaelic song titled Mo Thruaighe Leir thu Ille Bhuidhe live at Paisley Arts Centre.
Breabach is made up of some of the countries finest traditional musicians, Calum MacCrimmon on pipes and flute, Megan Henderson on fiddle, Ewan Robertson on guitar, James Duncan MacKenzie on pipes and flute and James Lindsay on double bass.
Find out more about this much celebrated outfit at http://breabach.com
Can you remember the first time you saw yourself reflected back from a television screen or at the cinema?
It’s quite vivid in my memory as an awkward, hapless schoolboy, watching Gregory’s Girl at home in the mid-1980s. I was agog at not how achingly funny it was, from almost the first frame to the last, but also how true to life it felt to the harsh realities of teenage years when almost everything feels like a total mystery.
I’ve been thinking a lot about Gregory’s Girl recently, partly because it is 40 years old next year. It is undoubtedly a touchstone for my generation, but is still seen as one of the greatest Scottish films of all-time. Director Bill Forsyth is revered as one of the nation’s leading filmmakers, not just for Gregory’s Girl, which was famously honoured in the opening ceremony for the London Olympics in 2012, but for his two other best-known movies, Local Hero and Comfort and Joy. All three comfortably fit into the category of comedy.
Yet 40 years on, the current crop of Scottish comics have had to go into battle to try to secure official recognition for their art form for the first time and a share of the £107m lifeline funding to secure the future of arts and culture north of the border. I’ve come across some bizarre scenarios, but the sight of Scottish stand-ups pleading for fair treatment from the government of a country of Billy Connolly, Frankie Boyle, Still Game, Chewin’ the Fat, Elaine C Smith and Karen Dunbar is right up there.