From the Royal Mint to pure minted, the alphabet of Scotland

The Loch Ness Monster will takes its place at “L”, which sparked a small debate in The Herald on Sunday offices over whether it should have appeared at “N”, for Nessie.

So, in celebration of Nessie, Ron McKay has come up with his own list of quintessentially Scottish suggestions:

A is for Arbroath, and the declaration of: It’s what the home team’s keeper exclaimed last month when his goal kick into a gale at Gayfield, on the lip of the North Sea, ended up as a corner for the other team with the ball eventually landing in Carnoustie.

B is for Baw or Ba’: Used as a prefix to a transportation receptacle, slang for male genitalia, and as a suffix for fit, and a game involving a leathern sphere we’re notably bad at. Sometimes the former has one heid tacked on. This is not, as you might think, an approving nod to a large brain, but a term of abuse. About which much more down the letters. It’s also for Buckfast, the national drink of our impoverished youth. And Big Yin, who hasn’t touched the stuff in years.

C is for Cauld: What your Bs get if you’re a man wearing the correct (un)dress under the kilt. Women, I am reliably informed, are not bound by the same strict dress code. The word is often also led by an active adjective which is old English slang for fornication.

D is for Dreich: That cold clammy spell that descends when Derek Mackay gets to his feet in the Parliament. The man’s a climate changer unto himself. When he strolls through Princes Street Gardens healthy plants, deprived of the light, shrivel and die.

E is for Eck: The finest politician to bestride our wee country, if he does say it himself. No more, then, about him as his lawyers read this. Or, if you prefer and you’re spiteful, it’s for Eejit, although obviously not applying to the foregoing titan (a libel lawyer inserts). But it’s liberally used elsewhere, normally about politicians.

F is for First Minister. And Fandango, which is a complicated process, a dance that Wee Nicola has got herself into, which involves terpsichorean political manoeuvres to avoid becoming partnered once more with Eck, in his ongoing travails.

G is for Gallus. And Ginger: Of the latter there’s a few, with Green Ross Greer heading the queue. By this time next year he’ll even have started shaving. It’s also Neil Lennon, who at the time of writing is Celtic’s new manager, and is the very definition of short-fused combustibility. He claims he’s found a new calm. Also slang for lemonade.

H is for Holyrood: That’s the ugly carbuncle which contains the parcel of rogues. The architect Enric Miralles had the good sense to peg it before the building was completed and if bits keep dropping off it at the present rate there’ll be a few MSPs joining him.

I is for Indyref2: Dunno where, dunno when, but we’ll meet again. It will come.

J is for Jakey: It’s a derogatory term which has wider currency than just applying to an alcoholic or a homeless person, another of those Scottish slights, connoting some shambolic stumblebum you happen to despise. It’s also for Jessie. As in Big, although that’s probably been banned from the lexicon on correctness grounds.

K is for Kelly, Lorraine, the love her or loathe her one from daytime telly and a slew of bad adverts.

L is for Leonard: Not the clever one from the Big Bang Theory, the hapless one leading Scottish Labour down a black hole.

M is for Minted: Someone with more disposable income than you. It’s as much a term of envy as approval. M is also for Maroon. It’s when you are in a bar and the minted one is reluctant to dig out his or her wedge and you say, “What’s that colour Hearts play in again?” and when they answer with the M word you respond, “I’ll have a large whisky thanks.”

N is for Nippy. As in sweetie: It may well be a sexist term, because you don’t hear it being used about, say, a small and abrasive man, like Jimmy Krankie or Lenny again, but usually women.

O is for Old Firm: Enough said.

P is for Pure: Not, of course, the opposite of impure, but the adjective before brilliant. Or mental.

Q is for Losers: We used to do it in an orderly way for buses and trains and at bars but now we just pile in with the elbows out. Also for Quaich, which is a shallow drinking bowl out of which whisky is lapped.

R is for Rabbie. And Ruth: They’re not linked. Obviously. One’s a dead bard and some might say the other’s dead bad for large swathes of Scotland’s electorate. Ms Davidson has, fortunately for her, been on maternity leave while her national party combusts and the walking dead Prime Minister stumbles towards her end. Perfect timing for Ruth to emerge, smiling, and claim the Tory party mantle.

S is for Stoater: An expression of approval of physical attributes, or someone, or something, bouncing off the walls. Stravaig. Or Steamin’. Both of which often go together, an aimless inebriated walk, across heath, heather or the home doorstep. It used to be for Steamie too, but we don’t have these anymore.

T is for Tacket: As in tackety boots, which had hobnails in the sole and gave off a trail of sparks when you slid, like a jet trail. Now we have to do with the likes of light-up trainers.

U is for Uisge beatha: The stuff you put in the Quaich.

V is for Vennel: The alley between houses, where many a wean was conceived, if the close was too busy.

W is for Wha’s like us? That mantra of national insecurity dressed up as a cultural bond of superiority. It’s also the first letter in the term of abuse related to a solo sexual practice and, together with a provocative hand sign, is pretty much applicable to anyone or anything disliked. Or it could be for Wallace, William, whose arms were so long his hands scraped the ground.

X is for Xenophobe (Because there’s no Scottish word): Hating, quite often, the English, but any minority will do at a pinch. And Saltire, because it has a big cross (often seen in the sky as a good omen to people who believe in these kind of things), and that’s also what you do on the ballot paper.

Y is for Yesser or Yoon: Enough said.

Z is for Zulu: Yes, we do have them, not the Rorke’s Drift lot which saw off Michael Caine and company in the classic film, they’re actually fishing boats that are used in the Moray Firth and further afield to catch herring. Although there can’t be many of them left, likewise the fish. And Zed, Sean Connery’s character in the absolutely dreadful 1970s sci-fi move Zardoz.