Source: BBC Radio Scottish Learners 2nd Level (BBC Learning) http://www.bbc.co.uk/podcasts/series/schscot2 schscot2_20140116-0400a.mp3
This is a download from the BBC. For more information about Scottish Learners 2nd Level and other downloads from School Radio, go to bbc.co.uk/schoolradio.
The story of Theseus and the Minotaur by Alan Bissett, read by Robert Jack.
It's great living in Invercaldy(*1). Got plenty to do around here. Skateboard park, a loch, loads of cool wee shops, even a picture house(*2) for the latest 3D blockbusters. Our men are strong and brave, and our women are bonny. Sometimes it's even the other way around. Everybody's got enough money to get by. Nobody is rich, and nobody is poor.
The only bad thing about being in Invercaldy is that, every year, Oktorshigel declares a war on us. Yourrrrrr lord Mayor of us, oh, he is a chanty rascal. He's greedy, he's cruel, and when he gets bored, he sends out a few bampots ((Scotland, slang, pejorative) Idiot) to smash up our shops and steal our stuff. One minute you are just sitting there listening to some old fella telling you pure brilliant stories about the gods, and what they've been up to on Mt. Olympus. Next time you come (ken?), you're ducking up the road trying to avoid some Oktorshigel nut job (a horrible person) trying to spray-paint your face. And what have we ever done to them? Hee haw. I just think their mayor doesn't like folks in Invercaldy being happy because he (ken?) can't find he makes everybody in Oktorshigel miserable. Anyway, what was the plan Invercaldy council came up with? Fight back? No. Build better defences around the town? No. They decided to - wait for it- drive seven boys and seven lassies to Oktorshigel to be sacrificed to the mayor's pet monster; the Minotaur.
You (have) not heard of the Minotaur? Oh, that's a horrible beastie with a body of a man, but a head of a great big bull. The lord mayor keeps it in a deserted housing scheme. It comes out at night, and it roams about the underpass (like under a bridge) in the ally ways among stink excrement, and if anybody comes across the Minotaur, that's him, spiked to death on the beastie's horns. So, that was to be the fate for seven sons and seven daughters of Invercaldy, all just to keep the mayor of Oktorshigel happy. I don't think so, not if I, Theseus, have got anything to do with it. So, I'm gonna go to Oktorshigel with the sacrifices and kill the Minotaur. My father just made me promise that, when I'm returning on the bus I'll text him if I've been victorious. Otherwise he'll just worry that I'm dead. Got to stop the old man from worrying, eh?
Next I ken I'm on the bus to Oktorshigel with thirteen bairns (scottish: children) are trembling and grieving 'cause they fear the monster. "Do not worry," I says to them as Oktorshigel comes into view, and then the old Mackel town hall rearing up like the Minotaur itself. Listen. I'll handle it." I tells them all. But ken what? Even I am not sure, just trying to calm them down. Wee shame for them, eh? (feeling sorry for them, he is supposed to be brave)
So we gets here, and the Mayor greets us all at the bus station with all his flunkies. He's in these big mad flowing red robes, massive gold crown in his napper (maybe meaning "head"). You'd think he was a king. And he's got this nasty wee smile on a long neb (check), starts talking in this posh as anything (expression : very posh : cold as anything ... as anything : coloquial, uneducated, street talk) voice __, "All boys and girls of Invercaldy, so good to see you. Mmmm. I'm sure my little 'pet' would be pleased to make your acquaintances well." and he starts laughing this dry wee chuckle to himself. Right, pal, you are hilarious, eh.
I can see this lassie standing behind him. Young, about my age, bonny. Every time the mayor opens his mouth, she rolls her eyes like he's made some embarrassing __ __, which he has, by the way. And clutches her one time, and he gives her this "You just watch yourself" look. Then he goes, "You must forgive my daughter Ariadne. Sometimes she isn't aware just how previledged she is to have a father as rich and as, uh, what is it you young people say? ... as awesome as me, a ha, a ha, a ha." / How does Ariadne react to that? Another big eye roll. Ha. "Aye," then I thought, you are wanting to be out of here, quick-style. And who could blame you?
So, they takes us to the hotel, feed us a slap up meal. Then we all go to our room to have a hot shower, sort of like one last night of luxury afore(*3) we go to the scheme. But just afore I nods off to sleep on this pure comfy big four-poster bed, the mayor's daughter come sneaking in my room. tip-toe style, shuts the door behind her. "Brave young boy," she says, "I could see it in your eyes when you led the others off the bus. You are not here to go meakly to your death, are you?" "... Nuh", I says "It's not my style." / ... "But listen. It's not the Minotaur I'm worried about. It's getting out of the scheme. I'm handy with sword but hopeless with directions." I holds up my phone. "Thank the gods for Google Maps" I say. / She sighs and shakes her head. "There is no reception in the Minotaur's lair. Father had all the mobile phone masts smashed up so that no one could find their way around the scheme." "Oh", I goes, "Right." A wee smile creeps on her face. but __ __ the total opposite of her father's schmuk (face) / she reaches into her bag and pulls out a ball of string. "Take this," she says, "Tie one end to the fense of the first house that you pass, and unravel it as you go. That way you can find your way back." "Uh, cheers, eh" I says, taking the string, "But, em, why are you doing this like say? / Well, let's just say it's not only strangers my father makes things diffiicult for. / "All right," I says, "So, he's not that awesome then?" "No." she goes coldly. "That is why you must promise to take me away from this place if you defeat the Minotaur." / "Emm ..." I goes, "Not sure about that. Springing folk (uncountable) out of the town was not part of the plan, ken." / "Oh" she says. "Shall I just take the string back then?" and she snatches it out my hand. and I realize I was being a t__ k__. 'cause she's just trying to help me. So, I promises. She grins and gives me a wee peck on the cheek and leaves the room.
Next thing, I am being woken up, and led through the palace to the scheme. Now all the Invercaldy's boys and lassies are watching me in fear. But I just gives them a wink 'cause I am well up for it. ... That is, until they stick a sword in my hand and drop me off at the entrance to the scheme.
At night. Cold. Quiet. It's just me, about __ unfamiliar streets, and that big beastie somewhere. I reaches into my bag, and takes the string what (that) Ariadne gave me, and tie a wee bit around the fense of the first house. Then, I starts walking.
Before you ken, I'm totally lost. The scheme is like a labyrinth. It's that twisty-turny, spooky as anything. The houses are boarded up and empty, which just makes it even eerier. Down through the underpass, graffitti on the walls, roof dripping with water, oh, the spiders, and some weird noises like snuffling and grunting, but I cannot tell where it's coming from. Around this corner, around the next. I've been walking for hours, and just about gave up hope of finding anything, when I turns a corner, and there it is, at the end of the street, the Minotaur. It turns its massive bull's head, snorting and bellowing, its red eyes focus on me, and I grips my sword. For all my gallant swagger, I'm frozen to the spot. It's roaring towards me, huge __ __ __ its legs like an olympic runner's, and that's when I minds my wits. Just as a sharp point of the horns reaches me, I manage to duck out of the road in the nick of time. The monster clatters into the side of the house, his horns bulldozing right through it. I thought he might be stuck, but nuh, he uses his huge arms and pulls himself out and then just turns around and glowers at me. He snorts, and steam comes out of his bull's notsrils. And he charges at me again. His horn slices into my ear muffs. I squeel like a mouse. When next I looks up, I see my own blood dripping off his horn, and he's bearing down on (coming in an aggressive way) me again. But I thinks about my father, Invercaldy, the loons and quains (boys and girls) be chomped up by the Minotaur unless I manage to slay it, and it makes me fight harder. He lifts his giant head to go on my chest, and that's when I takes my chance. I pushes my sword into his stomach and he lets out this horrible, grunting noise like a cow being led to a slaughter house.
And then he falls down. Dead. Phew. I've just killed the Minotaur. I cuts the Minotaur's head off, and uses the string to find my way back. And eventually I reaches the same fence I tied the string to. And there's the rest and Oktorshigel. Hundreds of them, waiting for me. I raises up the Minotaur's head, and there is a huge roar. And I spoke to Invercaldy boys and lassies, greeting with hapiness. And there is the mayor, shaking his head grimly, and his daughter, clapping her hands, massive cheeser (big smile) on her face. And I minds my promise. It doesn't (dozni) go according to the plan though.
On the bus on the way back to Invercaldy, she's nipping my head, "Oh, Theseus, let's get married. Let's settle down and have lots of children, and I can tell them about the day their brave daddy slayed the most fearsome creature of them all. / "Aye," I says, thinking, "I'm not one to get married. That wasn't part of the deal. So, guess what I does? We stop off at a petrol station to get some munchies. But as soon as she is out of eyeshot, I'm like, "Right, team. Let's go. We are out of there."
What's the matter? I promised I'd get her out of Oktorshigel, didn't I? I'd held up my side of the bargain, eh? Turns out the gods were none too keen on that. Not really the behavior of a hero ken. But that'll teach me. With all the drama, I forgot one crucial thing. I did not text my father, who had been waiting for my message. He put one and one together and thought that the Minotaur had killed me, drowned himself in the loch. My poor father. I don't know how I'll ever forgive myself.
I could not help but wonder if maybe if it was a revenge (sounds like "hailmeng". check.) for dumping Ariadne. I had stood up to the Minotaur. Now, the gods were stoning up to me. (behaving coldly to him)
(*1) This name could not be found in the map. Maybe a fictitious Scottish place name.
(*2) Scottish expression meaning 'cinema' (England) or 'movie theater' (America).
(*3) Scottish word meaning 'before'
The story of Pandora's Box by Alan Bissett, read by Nicola Roy.
Hiya, pals, pleased to meet you. I'm Pandora. Aye, that Pandora that gonnie (going) to forget about that business, eh? (she's hoping that we forget what we alreay know about Pandora.) That's all anybody minds(*6) me for. OK, I brought doom and gloom to the whole of humankind, but it was just one wee moment of weakness. I did not mean to do it. There's another side to me that's not just this. Oh, she wrecked everything, stereotype that the media like to focus on. The first thing you have to ken about me is that I'm the daughter of a god, and I ken what you are thinking; how come the daughter of a god talks like that? Well, you see, as 'cause I've spent hour long on Earth, if you are born in Mt. Olympus, being sent down to Earth is like starting a new school. Imagine going from a really posh fee-paying school, to like, say, a mere rough and ready (opposite of "refined and sophisticated") housing scheme sort of school, to fit in, you change your accent, wouldn't you? Even if you do not mean to, it just happens. You adapt.
So, when I first arrived down here on Earth, jumping off the thunder bolt my father sent me on, I just decided I was not going to upset any apple carts. I just did whatever it took for the folks on Earth to like me. Aye, that didn't work too all right, didn't it?
My father was the high (honcho?) up there; Zeus. Aye, you've probably heard of him. I mind everything being shiny, new, golden. Oh, the gods and goddesses were gorgeous. Everybody was happy. And I was allowed to just play whatever I wanted. Then, one day, my father comes to me, and he's like, "Daughter of mine, I have a treat for you." "What's that, daddy?" I says, thinking, "Ooo, another silver pony!" He folds his horns behind his back, and goes, "I'm going to send you away for the summer. I've created this new place, you see, 'Earth', and, I think it would be good for you to experience something of life beyond Mt. Olympus." / "... Right." I says, not kening what to make of this. I mean, Olympus was my home, and I did not want to leave it, eh? But, at the same time, I could not imagine any place that wasn't sun beams every day and rivers made from honey. / "Oh. And, here", he says, "I want you to take this box with you." "What for?" I says, taking it. Just a plain wooden box. Nothing special. Father just shrugs with a strange smile on his face. "Just make an old man happy." "Sure." I says, and goes to open the box. And that's when he puts his horn to lower the lid. / "Only thing is, darling," he goes, "You are not allowed to open it." "Why not?" I says. Now I am dying to open it. / Never mind. That's the only rule." Then he clicks his fingers and, whoooooop! That's it. I'm riding a lightening bolt down to earth without stopping for a breath. I'm all right. When I unsuddled myself off that bolt, I had a look around the Earth. It was not Olympish right enough. It was a bit dirtier, smelled a wee bit funny here and there, but, in places, it was right bonny, some were even matched Mt. Olympus for __ness. Waterfalls, barns, deep green valleys. And the folk were that welcoming, I wandered out through the woods into the village, and they took me in. A wee lassie they didn't even ken. Oh, they were folks, friendly, generous, g__ (gallant?). It was like my father had made Earth in the image of Mt. Olympus, and I felt right at home.
Only thing was, every night I sat looking at that box, dying to open it. I mean, it was just a box. Nothing special. Didn't even feel that heavy. I rattled it, and, inside, I heard a faint scart, like something was trying get out. Surely it couldn't be that big a deal. But no. My father had told me he did not want me to open it, and he is a god after all. So, every day I got up again, the box unopened, and I went and played with the other lassies. Even when we were climbing trees together, though, and playing rounders, I was thinking about the box. What was in it? And then, one night after a big massive party in the village to celebrate my arrival, when I was thinking that nothing in the world could be better than the feeling I had right then, I thought, "Oh, why not?" I mean, what harm could it do? I picked it up, shook it once maybe for good luck, then opened it.
Aye. So, you are right. I'm that Pandora. I'm her that done it. I'm the Pandora that opened the box and let everything bad out into the world; greed, evil, envy, hatred, war ... they all came flying out like banshees, all the things we've had to foil ever since. That had been my father's plan all along: send his daughter down to Earth so that she beomes one of them. If she decides to break the rule for her own selfishness, then that set for the whole human race game over.
But do you not think that's a wee bit unfair? Wanes(*4) are curious, right? And if you tell them not to do something you've got to give some reasons. You cannot just say "Do not do this, or else!" It was just a box. I only opened it. ... I know. Everybody hates me. And nobody talks to me 'cause those folk are getting killed in wars and it's all my fault. ... But what kind of father would set a challenge for a wee lassie that he'd kenned she'd fail? Aye. The gods work in mysterious ways right enough, too mysterious for me.