An toil leat an duilleag-sa?
Cuir gu caraid i!
Seanair, Munro (his grandson) and Brochan (his dog) are on a train travelling through the Highlands in January. Opposite them, Melodaidh, an attractive young Australian, struggles to fit her heavy rucksack into the overhead luggage racks.
SEANAIR: What a view, eh Munro? ... I can't wait to feel the mountains under my feet. ...Need a hand, dearie?
MELODAIDH: It's my climbing and surfing gear... a bit of a squash.
SEANAIR: New Zealand?
MELODAIDH: Australia. I'm Melodaidh.
[Melodaidh offers her hand, smiling]
SEANAIR: I'm Seanair and this is Munro Jr, my grandson. I'm teaching him about my beloved hills and glens.
[Munro rolls his eyes and acts bored - but takes out his earphone when no-one's looking!]
MELODAIDH: I'm travelling around the Highlands with my cousin, Morag. I love anything Scottish.
[Enter Morag carrying a cup of tea]
MORAG: Finally... a nice relaxing cuppa.
[She steps on an old bit of chewing-gum, on the floor. The purple gum stretches, takes off into the air and lands on the table. It's DWELLY - a mythological West Highland's creature with only one eye, one arm and one leg. He slurps down Morag's tea...]
Latha math agus bliadhna mhath ùr!
MORAG: That's my tea, you little...
DWELLY: Dwelly, Lord of the West Highlands. I command - you follow! And your first challenge is mountain biking.
SEANAIR: Hold on, I'm a hiker not a biker!
[Dwelly SNAPS his fingers and Brochan begins to hover in the air above Dwelly's head.]
DWELLY: 'S e 'm balach Dwelly!
[Dwelly forgets about Brochan and the spell, Brochan falls on Dwelly and squashes him.]