In the sexual sense, yes, we're tighter than a quarterback's arse-ring upon graduation. Financially, it doesn't work like that. The tight-fisted Scotsman is a bit of a cliche - Andrew Carnegie was a Fife boy (born in Dunfermline) - probably borne out of resentment towards Scotland from various sources. There's…

Chris, love, you and Gwynnie might be proud parents, bestest fwiends foweva or whatever - but you're still both an insufferable pair of rancid pricks. Please tell us that the strain of your uncoupling means we won't have to suffer a new Coldplay album for a few years. Please.

Tiffany? Is that you?

Well. It does look like some cheap 1990s cushion covers thrown up onto a sweater.

I tried to replicate a few One Direction hair-disasters a few months ago with some of my colleagues. The overriding consensus was that a) they must go through a *lot* of gel and wax each month and b) there's only so much blow-drying you can do before you start to hear each and every follicle screaming out for mercy. …

(Oh, and you do realise that not every part of Scotland is "highland", right? Or do you not want to have a geography lesson too whilst we're at it?)

Oh dear. Oh very dear. But you do what you like dear. Just remember to use some lube for the next time you get butt-hurt.

See, I agree about the "tanned and muscled" look. The overwhelming majority of us Scotsmen are what we would charitably call "one step before the morgue pale". Seriously. You put a Scottish boy in the sun? He'll combust. We tan in three stages - mildly pale, lobster pink, shedding-skin-like-snakes and then…

Fuck, is he still alive? Where did they reanimate him from?!

My dear, I know you think you're making some major point - but in actual fact, you're not. You see, Scotland's an unusual country in a lot of respects. We have a legal system independent from England and Wales, as well as a seperate education system. But we have a very long history of recording things. For example…

Oh, Katie. Ever since your "UR So Gay" crap, I've been wondering - why won't you go away when we flush? Seriously.

Just like Shakira said - those are hills, not mountains.

That series was utterly brilliant. I particularly loved the WAGs. Especially Fist.

You've probably never had to deal with a pack of Goldens, right? They look gorgeous - from a distance - and then you realise "Oh fuck, they're all coming at me, and ohmygodtheythinkIhavetreats" and then you start running and you realise all too late that the Golden Retriever is actually *really* rather good at…

Will they have a shade called "Desperation Scarlet"?

This is true. The murderous wee psychopath was actually from Renfrewshire. Which, er, is Lowland Scotland (just down-river from Glasgow). There are no - and never have been - any glens or misty mountains in *that* part of Scotland. Believe me.

As a Scotsman, nothing amuses me more than someone fanning themselves and getting all misty-eyed and moistly-undergarmented about my accent or some random feature of my appearance (according to one particularly crazy individual about ten years back, it's my eyes. Yes, love, they're blue. And yes, they *are* a nice…

Shut the fuck up, Kim.

Now, see, I don't know why the Interchangeable Bad Guy of the week didn't just waste her and her little fetish-outfit friends when they were going through that lengthy costume-change, to be frank. Plus, nail polish even though she's wearing gloves? *Really*?

Christ, if those four rub together, they could spark an inferno.