I like how ‘boak’ is used like a Chinese word, it’s a verb and a noun all at once.
The most popular use appears to be, “_____ gave me The Boak.”
Here, clearly, it means _____ has given our speaker a feeling of nausea.
You can also say that someone (or yourself) Boaked. I have Boaked many times in my life, most notably in front of the church I used to attend (in the drain, lah, I’m not so disrespectful of other people’s property, even when I’m hammered).
Here is an image of The Boak:
Solomon the tiny turtle drank a lot of Edradour whisky, and it gave him The Boak. He Boaked, and got Boak all over the table.
I’ve never heard of someone Boaking, though.
Sadly, so true: “At present, the same global coffee bar chain has cleaner forecourts in the US than it does in the UK because, in the UK, dropping trash is a yob’s right.” — Keeping up with the Jameses
On our very unhealthy trip to McDonalds yesterday, we sat by the window, and Neil expressed his disgust at the ned who spat a great hunking wad of saliva onto the floor outside (the puddle — yes, it was enough to be a puddle — was larger than anything I’d ever seen in China). The room was not as clean as any McDonalds in XIAMEN (yeah, in China where most people have no social etiquette regarding cleanliness).
And the night before (whose excesses necessitated the visit the afternoon after), I was waiting in line at the toilets in the Dreadnaught, and there was a woman who would only visit a stall that had loo roll in it. Fair enough. But then she did what she needed to do and. Left. Without. Washing. Her. Hands.
And that is fucking mocket (mockit?).
I’ve heard, more than once, the story of when Neil got the flu and couldn’t get out of bed for ten days, he was that crook. The first time I was regaled with the story (and every time since), I also heard that he was dragged out of bed to drive his mum to Wishaw to go “get her messages”, an injustice he feels has never been addressed.
I thought his mum had a PO box or something. But she’s not the type. After glimpsing the look of mild confusion on my face, Neil went on to gently explain that ‘messages‘ means ‘shopping’.
WTF? Once again, how did we get from ‘going to buy stuff’ to ‘messages’? Was it once used as a euphemism for buying embarrassing things (condoms, pads, tampons, various medications for yeast infections)? Or was it back in the day when people went to the shops, that was also when they got their mail and gossip?
That would make sense. Not that I’m going to start using it.
Clearly, I mean the Scottish definition, which is
Unintelligible, yet somehow mysteriously compelling, Scots word for grand, fine, super, etc
It’s not particularly funny, unless you’re Scottish and you live in Xiamen and when you go for a walk along Xiahe Lu and reach
… then it’ll make you (well, Neil) laugh.
I only heard this word being used when I was in Scotland with Neil and he was talking to his mum. I’d never, ever heard him use it before. Bur I have heard him use it plenty of times since.
“Mind when we went to eat fish and chips and the shop exploded from blocked grease,” is the sort of statement you would hear in context with the word ‘mind’. As you can tell, ‘mind’ means ‘remember’ in Scotland.
Are there too many syllables in ‘remember’ that get in the way of eating more chips and curry sauce? Can they not remember the word ‘remember’?
I don’t have a problem with it, but I can’t work out how ‘remember’ got replaced with ‘mind’. Unless I’m losing my remember.
Neil’s mother has a hairdresser come in to give her a haircut — a very enterprising hairdresser, as she only makes housecalls. I was having a bit of a stickybeak when she came in earlier (she’s here right now), and this is what I heard:
“Do you want the same again?”
“Ay-y-ye.”
*The hairdresser sets up her hairdryer and curling iron*
“… [Something in a strong Scottish accent about going to Livingston]…”
“Ay-y-e… [something about it being busy and Santa's grotto]”
“… [Something else about Toys R Us in Livvie being better than in Glasgow, then on to someone they know]…”
“Ay-y-y-ye… She’s a bonnie wee lassie.”
“Ay-y-y-ye… [And so on]…”
There you go. I do still have to concentrate a bit if I’m trying to understand a Scot I’ve not met before, and it appears that all I need to say is “Aye” a lot (unless, of course, they are asking if they can have my liver served with fava beans).
