It Only Hurts When I Laugh

I ventured out of doors and round the block for the first time tonight. It was quite hard, and I was in a state of near collapse when I got back to the house. I've been warned about not overdoing it at the beginning - I think I may have been at my limit tonight. Anyway I've had an hour to get my breath back and I always find that reading a favourite bit of humorous writing has great restorative power. So, here we have Bill Bryson, an American, arriving in Glasgow for the first time in his life, and stumbling, lost, into a pub in Govan. There are only two men sitting at the bar and there's no sign of a barman. He catches the eye of one of the men who says, "Hae ya nae hook ma dooky?" "I'm sorry", I replied. "He'll nay be doon a mooning". He hoiked his head in the direction of a back room. "Oh, ah" I said and nodded sagely, as if that explained it. I noticed that they were both still looking at me. "D'ye hae a hoo and a poo?" said the first man to me. "I'm sorry?" I said. "D'ye hae a hoo and a poo?" he repeated. It appeared that he was a trifle intoxicated. I gave a small, apologetic, smile and explained that I came from the English-speaking world. "D'ye nae hae in May?" the man went on. "If ye dinna dock ma donny". "Doon in Troon they croon in June" said his mate, then added "Wi' a spoon". "Oh, ah". I nodded thoughtfully again, pushing my lower lip out slightly, as if it was all very nearly clear to me now. Just then, to my small relief, the barman appeared, looking unhappy and wiping his hands on a tea towel. "Fuckin muckle fucket in the fuckin muckle", he said to the two men, and then to me in a weary voice "Ah hae the noo". I couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement. "A Pint of Tennent's, please" I said hopefully. He made an impatient noise, as if I were avoiding his question. "Hae ya nae hook ma dooky?". "I'm sorry?" "Ah hae the noo", said the first customer, who apparently saw himself as my interpreter. FROM Notes From A Small Island