Monday, 22 March 2010

Ink on Paper

A book I have been reading recently is Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh. Very appropriate considering my current attachment with the drugs and alcohol team (see my last post). When I first saw the film, some time ago I thought the film was amazing and possibly the only film with Ewan McGregor in that I have ever properly enjoyed. Going on my previous experiences of the book being better than the film I thought I would buy myself a £2.50 copy from the local charity book shop and delve in. Well I'm approximately 100 pages in and I'm enjoying it although I have to say I am finding the language fairly difficult. I shall share with you a passage not likely to be read out in church:

"Ah wis fuckin game fir a swedge. If the cunts hud've fuckin come ahead it wis nae problem like. Ah mean, you ken me, ah'm no the type ay cunt thit goes lookin fir fuckin bothir likes; but ah wis the cunt wi the fuckin pool cue in ma hand, n the plukey cunt could huv the fat end ay it in his pus if he wanted, like. Obviously, ah wis cairryin ma fuckin chib n aw."

Usually when I think Scottish a Sean Connery voice immediately enters my head and so for this part I have been hearing in my head a particularly potty mouthed James Bond. I've had more amusement than I should by saying out loud the old tongue twister "She sells sea shells on the sea shore" in this voice.

The language also reminds me of a particularly difficult time when I was serving customers in McDonalds and a young Scottish man came up to order his meal. I had to ask him to repeat what he was saying several times and still got his order wrong, poor man, if I wasn't such a dunce maybe our interaction would of faired better.

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