Gordon steps up to the microphone. Before him are the relatives of his best friend, nearly all of them either visiting from Scotland, or like the groom himself, immigrants from Scotland. As he prepares to address the wedding party, he holds up a voice recorder. He clicks it on. The voice of Ewan McGregor can be heard.
"It shite bein’ Scottish! We’re the lowest of the low!"
Gordon clicks off the voice recorder. He speaks.
"I know many here tonight feel that way. But I'm here to tell you it is not true. It's not shite bein’ Scottish. At least not on this side of the Atlantic. We run everything; we own everything. We named everything. And pretty much everyone who comes here does whatever we say. And why? Because we all left Scotland. So by no means is it shite being Scottish. What’s shite… is being Scottish… in Scotland. Thank you very much."
Gordon begins to step away from the microphone. In the stunned, puzzled, disbelieving silence, he pauses, and returns. "Oh, and congratulations and a happy long life to the newlyweds!"
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