We love them. We love their voluminous handbags, their stoutly traditional headscarves but most of all we love their ability to subvert the natural order by saying something completely apposite.

Waiting to meet a late night flight at Glasgow, a WW espies a polisman toting one of those Heckler and Koch sub-machine guns, just standing around with mercifully, nothing to do.

WW: See that gun son? Is that no awfy heavy for you to carry aboot like that?

Polisman: Naw, its goat a strap see? That takes aw the weight.

WW: Oh that’ no sae bad then son, ‘cause it wid be awfy heavy otherwise no?

A WW attracted by the elegant patisserie offered at a deli in Sauchiehall Street enquires thusly of the equally elegant assistant:

WW: Aw hen? See they wee apple tart ‘hings , how much are they?

Assistant: They’re a pound each madam.

WW: A pound? For a wee apple tart? Away and stick them up your erse.

And who could forget the WW, as recorded in The Herald Diary years ago, subjected to the torn-faced attentions of a US Customs Official at the airport interrogating her over the long list of comestibles not allowed into the US. At the conclusion of the list, the WW, having answered "No" to every item, says: "Naw, I’m sorry son, Ah’ve no even goat a sweetie ah could gie ye."

Dosser

Prompted by your editor’s recollections of being accosted by a pissed up gadgie fae Maryhill in Toronto, Reader Colin, fae Easterhouse, but now, by reasons of marriage, sadly marooned in That London, recalled the following:

"Your encounter with a fellow Glaswegian in Toronto made me laugh and it reminded me of an experience of my own.

Whilst visiting Glasgow for the first time with my future wife...we arrived very early one morning after disembarking from the coach from hell from London.

With my fellow passengers cries of 'Oh f*ck I'm dying for a piss' still ringing in my ears, my gentle and beautiful SO made our way towards Central Station in search of a taxi.

On Sauchiehall Street, I gave a groan of despair as I spied walking unsteadily towards us a dosser. As the streets were empty he fixed on us with the grim determination of a Scud missile...Staggering directly in front of me, he belched out a greeting of 'howsitgaunpal..hic...gonnageeussummoneyfurrabevvy?'

I was mortified that my Southern Bride-to-be should be accosted like this on her very first visit to my home town. I decided to go for the comedy angle and replied to him in gibberish 'Ochnaewaepalgeesusabreakjimmy. Ahmawayhameawright?'

The drunk looked at me, drew himself up to his full height and with all the dignity he could muster responded 'I may be drunk, but I'm not f*cking stupid. Piss off' Game set and match to the Dosser!"

And further, Colin shared with us his fond memories at Weegie conversational etiquette:

"Another true anecdote from my days in Glasgow... A young niece and nephew were fighting, with the boy demanding of his sister 'Gie's that, gie's that!' The little girl replied 'There's such a word as gonnae you know!"

Finally this week, we recently got an email from Jason, enquiring after a shot of the popular "Burberry" sound-clip. There’s just something so Scottish about the immaculate timing of this silver-tongued Lothario’s request:

"Dear Editor!
I've just come back from my wedding in Dunfermline where my best man (from Motherwell) was telling me about your sound clip. Please put me out of my misery and send me the clip.
Jason."