Back in 1992, I was travelling on an overnight Greyhound Coach from Ashland, Kentucky to New York City. During one of the regular stops en route ... for passengers to stretch their legs, have a smoke ... or whatever ... I got chatting to the driver. "Ye~ew from Ireland?" he asked, quizzically. "Scotland", I corrected him.
"Scatland?" Whurr's theat?came the reply.