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"But where are you actually from?" Shutupshutupshutup.
Nope. Just because we say grass like arse doesn't mean we hang out with the royal family on a regular basis. Or ever.
No, it isn't. Your impressions are terrible because there's no way any of us sound like Dame Maggie Smith in Downton Abbey.
Almost certainly not, but if this is your way of offering to come round our house and do our laundry, then we're fine with that.
Do you ask everyone you meet that question? If so, you're quite odd. If not: Just because we enunciate it doesn't mean we've been on a fox hunt.
Mebbes aye, mebbes naw, not that it's any of your business.
Here we go again. We're from the same place as you, we just sound a little different. And probably own an Aga.
We wish we did, because then we could magic you and your daft questions out of here.
No, because not all posh Scots know each other.
Do we though? Because that would be very expensive, and terrible for our livers.
Sure! There's absolutely no way any of us live in rented, damp, city centre flats.
We know a total number of zero people who have played croquet. The Scottish weather doesn't lend itself to wandering around on sunny lawns drinking Pimm's.
Spoiler alert: They are.
Wait, what? No. And even if that was an option, we wouldn't just invite random people over for a game.
Yup. Because almost all of us are normal, good-mannered, and rational human beings, not Cher from Clueless.
If by Range Rover you mean battered 2006 VW Polo, then yes.
You might be surprised to find that most of us have totally normal names, usually Scottish ones like *cough* Iona. Sorry to disappoint you.
Meh. We'd rather have a Scotch pie tbh. Not that we're troughing piles of it all the time (see above re: champagne).
This is by far the worst thing you could say to us, please go away.