The worst things to hear

As the title suggests I am a Scotsman, and more exactly from Glasgow, and so there
are many things I hate to hear.

Some of the worst of course are, ‘is it your round?’, ‘I’m sure I paid for dinner
last!’, and ‘I know what I want for my birthday!’ These sounds are sure to bring a
shiver to a national stereotype’s soul.

Coming in close from there, especially with being a Glaswegian, is the beep as
you go through airport security. It is at that point that you franticly pat your
pockets, thinking ‘I’m sure I left the flick knife at home.’

If you have ever been in company, and unfortunately I have, and the conversation
migrates to potatoes. You know you are going to have to listen to floury versus
waxy, roosters, pinks, new, and old. All you are thinking is who cares; they are all
the same when cut in strips and deep fried.

There is of course nothing that can be eaten, that isn’t improved by use of the
deep fryer. Scottish cuisine was never designed for nutritional value, more as a way
to prove how tough you are.

You would never want to hear the words, ‘Boyzone are reforming!’, and I still
pray that one day I will wake up in bed, look across at Louis Walsh walking out of
the shower, telling me it was all a bad dream.

Coming in a close second has to be the third person in an evening who tries badly
to do a Scottish accent; which has you franticly patting your pockets, thinking ‘Now
I hope I didn’t leave that flick knife at home!’ The fourth person of the evening
isn’t a problem; at that point you will have returned home and brought back the
knife.

The worst thing to hear however, and unfortunately it happens all too often, is a
question, I shall explain with a conversation.

Me, ‘Hi how’s it going?’

Other, ‘Oh, your from Scotland, what part?’

Me, ‘Glasgow.’

Other, ‘Ah, are you Celtic or Rangers?’

I am afraid that this goes far beyond a flick knife moment, this becomes a spoon
moment, anybody who has ever been attacked with a spoon will understand.

The gratuitous, but necessary, spoon moments could easily be avoided, if people
could be simply up front, and ask what religion I am.

And so let’s get it out of the way, I’m an atheist, and I hate football.