Aye, Naw, and Gonnae No': A Wee Guide to Scottish Slang (and Why You Should Never Be 'Up Yersel')
From charming “ayes” to deadly insults, here’s what you need to know before chatting up a Scot (or reading my new book).
Scotland, the setting for most of my books: land of misty glens, men in kilts and a dialect so rich and musical it deserves its own Spotify playlist.
If you’ve ever found yourself nodding politely while a Scot cheerfully informed you, “Naw, I dinnae ken what ye’re oan aboot, pal, but gonnae no’ dae that again?”—congratulations, you’ve just survived a full sentence of Scottish slang. Possibly an insult. Possibly a compliment. Possibly both.
Let’s break it down, shall we?
Aye, Naw, and Mebbe
First, the holy trinity of Scottish responses:
Aye – Yes. Also: obviously, of course, 100 per cent pal, why are we still talking about it?
Naw – No. Also: absolutely not, not on your nelly, take that idea and fling it in the Clyde.
Mebbe – Maybe. But don’t get your hopes up. A Scottish “mebbe” is often the prelude to a “naw” with extra politeness duct-taped to the front.
Ken
As in “D’ye ken?” meaning “Do you know?” or “Are you picking up what I’m talking about?” It is not a person (although yes, we’ve all met at least one Ken who thinks he knows everything).
Dinnae
Short for “do not,” and used frequently by Scottish aunties and barmen when you’re about to do something stupid.
“Dinnae touch that, it’s hot.”
“Dinnae ask him aboot the referendum.”
“Dinnae mix Irn-Bru and vodka*. Again.”
(*Not the worst combination in the world.)
Gonnae No’ Dae That?
A classic phrase, delivered with weary exasperation and a pinch of despair. Often said to children, tourists, politicians and anyone trying to start a ceilidh at work on a Tuesday morning.
Translation: Please stop whatever it is you're doing before I combust with second-hand embarrassment. For added Scottishness, add in “you numpty” or “you eejit” to the end.
The C-Word (No, Not That One—Well, Actually, Yes That One, But Also No)
Ah, cunt. Now before you clutch your pearls, know this: in Scotland, it’s… complicated.
In England and the US, it’s The Worst Word™. In Scotland, it’s a sliding scale.
“That wee cunt” = possibly affectionate
“He’s a gallus cunt” = admiration, swagger
“Some cunt nicked ma pasty” = unknown party, not necessarily malicious
“You're a pure evil wee cunt” = yes, this one is bad
Context is everything. Tone of voice is key. And if a Scottish person grins when they say it? You're probably fine.
Up Yersel’
Forget your insults about appearance, job status, or even your choice of football team—nothing stings more than being accused of being up yersel’. To be “up yersel’” is to think you’re better than everyone else. It’s the cardinal sin. The social death knell. The reason Karen never got invited back to the Hogmanay party after she brought her own wine and refused the Tunnock’s teacakes.
The Musicality of the Scottish Accent
There’s a rhythm to Scottish speech—a rise, a fall, a punchline waiting at the end of every sentence. It’s like verbal bagpipes: occasionally confusing, always powerful and oddly emotional. There’s a lyricism that dances just under the surface all the time.
So if you’re ever lost in Scotland, just listen. Not for the words necessarily (although “aye” is usually a good bet), but for the song in the voice. The Scottish accent is storytelling in itself: full of rhythm, heart and the occasional side-eye.
And if someone tells you you’re “no’ up yersel’”? You’ve just earned yourself the ultimate Scottish compliment. Congratulations!
Want more kilts, shortbread, whisky and men who smoulder while muttering “aye”? Grab your pre-order copy of Forever, Maybe—a love letter to Glasgow and Scotland, its scenery, its slang and its sexiest, most emotionally constipated men.
[Aye, I want to read it → https://bookgoodies.com/a/B0F74VTCDN]
I'm wondering how we are distantly related -- from another Baird