Original subtitles

I've got a parcel for you, mate. Oh, cheers.

Could you sign this, please?

Cannae.

That'll do me.

Ta.

All right?

I'm Jolly Boy John.

Jolly Boy John acting the wide-o

is For Real.

For Real. What, what, what, what,

what, what, what, what?

Jolly Boy John acting the wide-o with his nephew's nappy on his head

is For Real.

Get tooled up if you want, mate-mate-mate.

I'm tooled up with wee chocolate bananas!

For Real! Come and get meee...

For Real!

Jolly Boy John acting the wide-o to the polis

with his nephew's nap-nap-nappies on his head

in his Aunty Mary's hooer boots

is For Real!

For Real! Here...

There'd better be a squad of yous to get me in that polis van

cos I'm game as fuuu...

For Real!

All right, ladies?

How do yous like me now I've got my sexy boots on?

Jolly Boy John buying a good sling off the Internet

and firing one of his nephew's pishy nap-nap-nappies that he's

kept in the freezer all night at a polis van in the street

is For Real!

? White boots and a nappy hat ? All the chicks go hot for that. ?

Ooh! Ahhh!

Ooh! Ahhh!

? White boots and a nappy hat

? All the chicks go hot for that. ?

Columbo, TJ Hooker, Miss Marple, Arthur Bostrom.

Yous are all trying to solve the puzzle of how to be

as For Real as Jolly Boy John.

Get Real!

where Murdoch and his band of raggle-taggle bounty hunters

and soldiers of fortune attacked Lord Porter and his English army.

It is easy to imagine their hearts pounding in their chests,

the adrenaline coursing through their veins

as they charged down the slope towards the colossal enemy.

YAARGGHHH!

YEEE-AARRGGHH!

Listen hen, yer da's got a bit of a drink in him,

so gonnae take his shoes aff and get that fag out his hon

before you go to your bed?

I'm away up the stairs.

New from Ciderson's Games,

it's Take yer Da's Shoes Aff Hen.

Can you get yer da's shoes aff

without waking him up?

What about the fag

from between his fingers?

No having a fly puff, now!

Hey, yer only a wean!

And if yer feeling really brave,

you can try and knock a tenner

from that wallet in his troosers! Go on.

Aw, no!

'Get yersel' tae fuck!'

Take Yer Da's Shoes Aff Hen,

from Ciderson's.

Here.

Have you noticed anything?

Naw. What?

Take a look about ye.

Oh, wait a buckin' minute.

Wait a buckin' minute is right. Is this a studenty place?

Is this a studenty place? This better no be a studenty place.

Oh, see if this is a studenty place...

Hey!

Are you a student?

Em, well, I go to college.

What's that you're drinking?

It better be tea, the same as us.

It's a mocha.

A what?! A mocha.

A what?! A mocha.

A what?!? A mocha.

A WHAT?!?

You, hen.

Please tell me that is a good, honest, working class cup of tea.

It's a caramel macchiato.

A caramel macca-what-noo?

Ho! Waitress!

Is...

this a studenty place?

What? Is this, or is this no,

a studenty place full of wee iPad-using f-Pads?

THE TRUTH!

It's just a coffee shop.

Oh, I get it.

So everybody can act all exotic with their wee coffees?

Me-me-me-me-me!

You tell all your wee studenty pals

that we're no impressed with their exotic coffee.

A WHAT?!? A mocha!

Ohhh!

Joe! Up the road!

Up the road now!

Up. Up the road now.

Up the road.

Up the road.

Up the road!

Up the road now!

Hello. Tell yer quine to drap her breechs for Herry Maclowdery.

? Oh, ye dinna ken a geechie like awa' and tak' awa'

? When the faur faur winds ae wiy fae dearer

? An' a' ahint the braes an' afore tae tak' awa'

? There's hot new poolside pictures of Shakira. ?

Well, Doctor?

Thank Christ I don't need to live with that wee prick.

On the run from the English army,

it is here in this beautiful meadow where Murdoch set up camp

and spent his wedding night.

It is said that he consummated the marriage

on this very piece of ground.

It is easy to imagine making love to a beautiful young wife

for the first time in a beautiful place like this.

Oh! On her back,

feeling the grass beneath her,

as she looks up into the eyes of her heroic husband.

But...

as legend has it,

Murdoch had not yet finished making love to his new wife

for the first time when Lord Porter's soldiers attacked.

YEEE-AARRGGHH!

AAARRGGHH!

AARRGGHH!

Hello, tiger.

Excuse me? "Hello, tiger?"

Mmm, yes. Hello, tiger.

What's that patter about?

Well, the management have asked us

to be much nicer to the jobseekers from now on.

You know they way we normally behave, darlin'?

Like snidey bastards? That's right, tiger.

Well, we've to bin that,

and we've to be much nicer from now on, you wee smasher.

We have to get at least one compliment into every exchange.

I don't think I like that, but. Well, nae luck.

You're just a jobseeker, so as far as me being nice to you goes,

you'll have to like it or lump it, ya wee cutie pie.

Right, fair enough.

So, have you been looking for work this week, stud? Eh, aye.

Well, I'm gonnae need some proof of that, gorgeous.

A call centre.

I went for an interview, but nae joy.

One interview? That's your lot for a week?

I thought you were supposed to give me a compliment with every exchange.

Sorry, did I miss one there?

Erm... OK, let me...

Let me give you this rose here.

It goes nice with your lovely wee red sweater and that.

You know what I think, though? You're lazy.

You're lazy and sleekit. A lazy, sleekit, wee sweetheart.

Can I just sign on and go? All this patter's making me feel awkward.

"Just sign on and go?!"

Do you think we should just be giving free money

to any guy that walks in here with his beautiful, big brown eyes?

Like a lovely wee Shetland pony staring at you?

Look, I am looking for work, all right?

One interview a week isn't good enough. You should be out there

pounding those streets with those big, muscular feet.

I'm sick of you lot acting all high and mighty behind your desks.

See that job of yours, mate?

It's shite!

It's shite!

So just shut your mouth

with your perfect, beautiful teeth

and your lovely full lips and that.

You've got me doing it now.

How dare you abuse me like that!

Coming in here shouting at me

with that commanding voice

with that rich tone, like an operatic tenor or something!

You dreamboat!

You know what? You can shove your benefit money, right?

Because I'm sick of listening to you

with all your charisma and your charm.

Like some kind of Benefits Office George Clooney or something, right?

You, mate, are marriage material!

MARRIAGE MATERIAL!

Get out!

Get that lovely wee firm tush of yours wiggling out of that door!

I hate to see you go, mate,

but I lo-ove to watch you leave! Mmm!

Hello, tiger. I'll be with you in a minute.

Mmm-mmm!

Hello, my name's Gavin Teeth-Whitened,

and welcome back to Fight or Dirty Bit.

We're here with this week's contestant, Davey Crockett.

It's Croquette.

Like a potato croquette.

Sorry, Davey.

Are you ready to play Fight or Dirty Bit? Aye.

Let's take a look at this short film clip,

and then, Davey, you tell me what's coming next.

Fight or Dirty Bit?

The faucet's just over here.

That's good, cos I'm a plumber.

And I'm Susannah.

Let me just open the cupboard underneath the sink for you.

Davey, Fight, or Dirty Bit?

With a sexy wee arse on that yin like that?

It's got to be a dirty bit, Gavin.

Let's take a look.

Mmm... mmm-mmm.

Get up, Susannah!

Or should I say...

Scorpitarius the Spymaster.

You see this. But you didn't see this!

Damn you!

I'm sorry, Davey.

I'm afraid it was a fight.

Let's go to our ninth ad break of the show.

Tonight's BTV competition question is this.

What is a potato "crocket" made of?

Is it...?

The picture clue will flash on screen now.

And the word clue will flash up now.

My name's James Jumpstyle,

and the big news is that Jumpstyle beds and chairs

now delivers to your home, quickstyle!

We will come to your home, jumpstyle

and put your furniture EXACTLY where you want it!

Shelves! Chairs!

Couch chairs! Bed chairs!

All delivered by my Jumpstyle boys

to the loudest, happiest hardcore music you can imagine.

And, yes, the rumours are true! We're happy to introduce

James Jumpstyle's Funeral Service.

Go out in style!

Go out in Jumpstyle!

I came back to Burnistoun because I was born here

and in Hong Kong, my Scottish accent

made my filmmaking career impossible.

No-one could understand my Scottish patter.

Kung-Fu legend Micky Mann is a unique director,

in that in his films,

he is the only performer who knows he's in a movie.

When you punch an actor, or you kick an actor, it looks not real.

It looks fake. That is why I use real people.

In a Micky Mann movie, you see real people get kicked.

In the spectacular finale of Beatdown in Burnistoun,

an entire pub full of unwitting Burnistoun locals

are destroyed in a whirlwind of Micky's kung-fu moves.

Hello, there. What can I get you?

Using Hong Kong dubbing techniques, these innocent pub punters

are placed into the world of Micky Mann's movie.

Idiot, you should not have come here!

I'm not leaving without the sacred idol.

You will have to defeat us all, fool!

I would like to see him try!

You will pay for your insolence!

This is sacred ground!

Yahhh!

Thank you, kind old lady.

Try my King Kong Palm!

There are a lot of injuries

in my movies, yes, because it is real.

Because I am really hurting these people.

That makes a better movie.

In this iconic scene from Beatdown In Burnistoun,

this old man has no idea that the camera is rolling.

Son, can you tell me if the 56 has gone by yet?

Where are the diamonds?

I want to know, where are my friends?!

Give me the diamonds, you little punk!

I decided to stay in Burnistoun and make a new movie every weekend.

Please, if you see me out there, do come over and say hello.

Here y'are. Happy birthday, Peter.

Cheers, Scott.

What's the script with this? It's a hat.

I know it's a hat. What am I meant to do with a hat?

Wear it.

Do I wear hats?

Have you ever once seen me wearing a hat?

Naw. But you'll be wearing them soon, won't you?

How?

What?

No, no, your...

What? My heid? No, your hair, mate.

You'll be wearing hats, what with you going baldy.

I'm... I'm going bald?

I wasn't wanting to just hit out with it like that, know what I mean,

but, aye, you're receding. Am I shite!

At first, right, I thought it was mebbe just your nose getting longer,

like, at the top, up the way, but then I was like that,

"No, Scott, noses don't grow upwards,"

and then I realised it was your hair, mate.

That's garbage, mate. I've got a full heid of hair, just the same as my da'.

Aye, but your ma's baldy, but. She looks like Buddha.

That was stress that caused that, right?

You're always stressed, mate. Everybody's talking about it, mate.

You being a baldy bastard.

Like who? Wee Barry for one.

We saw you going into the barber's last week

and I was like that to him, "What's he away in there for? To read the meter?"

There must be something wrong with your eyesight, mate,

if you think this is a baldy guy's heid.

See if you shine a light through your hair, mate,

it goes all translucent like a ghost.

That's what they call you down the pub, mate - haunted heid.

Nope. I was like that to that wee barmaid last week,

"His heid looks like a grey dandelion, man.

"You could blow on it and make a wish."

Grey? It's like a BLACK dandelion, mate, right?

I better no hear anybody saying my heid looks like a dandelion, right?

You know what? You're just raging because it's my birthday, right?

You're trying to ruin it as per,

trying to give me a negative body image.

What did you get me last year? Do you remember?

A male corset.

Aye, that's right. And this year it's my hair. Well, I'm no havin' it.

You can shove your present right up your translucent arse.

Just because it's cold outside, mate, right?

We are gathered here today to unveil this tribute to a Burnistoun legend.

The greatest hero that Burnistoun has ever produced.

Must we list his achievements? Ten Olympic gold medals.

Undisputed boxing champion of the world.

The winner of five Oscars, four Grammys and three Tony awards.

A Nobel prize-winning heart surgeon.

A best-selling novelist and a war hero.

And we immortalise him today in this statue,

captured in his most famous photo moment,

as he sticks the Scottish flag into the surface of the planet Mars.

Burnistoun's greatest man - the world's greatest man...

ladies and gentlemen...

my son... when he grows up.

Nae pressure.

So you've been wi' us for a while now, son.

Four years.

So you understand that the three standard cakes that we do here

are the football pitch for the boys, the girl on the pony for the girls

and the plain one with the birthday message for the adults.

Yes.

Good. So, could you possibly explain to me this cake here?

Well. The dove is the bird of love, obviously,

and here we see it being decapitated by society's sword of oppression.

This is to represent the fact that society always tries to kill

any love that's different to how they define it.

And what are these wee men falling on to this man and woman here?

It isn't a man and woman - it's a lesbian couple. And these wee men here represent organised religion.

They're falling from the sky because they're the dove's last shit.

Man's attempt to organise and categorise spirituality

has caused the dove of love to defecate on this blameless couple.

So.

You want me to put, in the front window of my family baker's,

a cake that shows the image of the world's spiritual leaders

being shat out of a decapitated dove's arse

and landing on top of some giant lesbians?

Yes.

It's supposed to be a wean's birthday cake, son.

Now, I'm nothing if no an open-minded baker, right, but - and correct me if I'm wrong...

I don't think Gregg's managed to be the country's biggest baker's

by putting violent visual representations

of the plight of the lesbians on their steak bakes!

Now, what is this one here?

Well, this is a four-year-old boy saying goodbye to his nursery friend

who is an asylum seeker that the British government

is deporting back to his country of origin

where his family will almost certainly be put to death.

He's saying, "My friend is going away to die.

"And also there is no God and no Heaven."

Oh-ho! Happy days, eh?

Happy birthday memories!

Weans usually fight over who gets the bit of cake

with a football on it. I don't see anybody going,

"Mammy, can I have the bit of cake with the sad boy

"grieving o'er his doomed pal and questioning the existence of God?"

If they eat good art it will enrich their soul.

This one, I like.

A wee bit of Greek mythology there. Medusa with the snakes for hair.

Well, that's an interesting interpretation,

but this isn't Medusa and these arenae snakes.

I know they're not snakes!

It's a woman with a hair cut full of willies!

It represents women's eternal subjugation by men.

There's old wifeys who shop in here

who have only ever seen their husbands' willies in the dark

and you want me to show them this?

Yes. What were you planning on writing on it?

"Happy fourth birthday, Connor".

I cannae see it working, son. I cannae see people going,

"It's my son's fourth birthday this weekend.

"Any chance I could get one of they cakes with a subjugated woman

"with a tadger demi wave?"

But these...

No.

The great artists innovate within the restrictions

that are laid out for them. That is what makes them great.

Football pitches... and ponies.

Now get back to work.

Gingerbread ladyboy!

There are three-course pre-theatre menus

and there are three-course pre-theatre menus.

And then there's me.

? Brother, I've got another question

? I cannae get it out ma heid

? I'd find the answer In a book if I could

? But you know That I cannae even read

? I know who the question's about, mate

? It's women Frae young uns to mammies

? And why they're all out Cuttin' about

? Wearin' their motherbuckin' jammies

? Why are you cuttin' aboot In jammies

? Why are you cuttin' about In jammies

? Jammies, jam, jam Jam, jammies

? Why are you cuttin' aboot In jammies

? DJ, break it doon for the PJ. ?

What you see below you is now a car park,

but in Murdoch's time this was a popular spot for English soldiers

travelling north to set up camp.

Murdoch made an educated guess

that Lord Porter's soldiers would end up here.

This is Murdoch's sword.

He made a promise to his men that if Lord Porter rode into this place

he would first remove him from his horse

and then remove his head from his body.

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