The Legend of The Nae Pollution

Transcription:

Ach, gather roond, ye daft bastards, fer a tale that’ll hae ye laughin’ yer arses aff! Imagine the madness when Kevin, Lance, an’ their pal Chad decide tae start a band, callin’ themselves The Nae Pollution. Chad, Another o’ the biggest eejits in Glenfinnan, brings his own brand o’ chaos tae the mix, convinced he’s the next rock legend. These numpties, convinced they’re destined fer stardom, plan a concert at the Glenfinnan Theatre. But wi’ Old Dirty Jim hecklin’ fae the crowd an’ the ever-annoyin’ Tamsin ready tae steal the show, ye can bet this night will be one tae remember. Hold ontae yer hats, fer this is the legend o’ NaeStock – the concert that went doon in history as a hilarious disaster! Kevin, Lance, an’ their pal Chad decide tae start a band, callin’ themselves The Nay Pollution. They’re convinced they’re the next big thing, despite bein’ tone-deaf eejits. Kevin insists on playin’ bagpipe solos, Lance’s on the drums, an’ Chad’s the lead singer, even though he sounds like a strangled cat. They plan a big concert, namin’ it NaeStock, an’ book the Glenfinnan Theatre, expectin’ a massive crowd. On the night, only a few dozen curious souls show up, mostly tae witness the disaster they’ve heard aboot. Among them is their mate Old Dirty Jim, ready tae make a ruckus. Kevin kicks aff wi’ a bagpipe solo that sounds like a dying cow. Lance tries tae keep up on the drums, but he’s oot o’ sync, whacking the cymbals at random. Chad, bless him, is so nervous he starts pukin’ ower the mic, makin’ a horrendous noise. The crowd starts booing an’ shoutin’, wi’ Old Dirty Jim leadin’ the hecklin’. “Ye call that music? Ma granny’s farts sound better!” he roars, makin’ the audience laugh an’ jeer even louder. Kevin, in his infinite stupidity, thinks they’re cheerin’ him on. He doubles doon on the bagpipes, wanderin’ aff stage an’ right intae the theatre’s prop storage, knockin’ ower a stack o’ fake trees. Chad, tryin’ tae recover, slips on his own sick an’ crashes intae Lance’s drum kit, sending it flyin’. Lance, nae wantin’ tae miss oot on the chaos, jumps aff the stage tae join Kevin, who’s now tangled in the theatre’s props. Just when the disaster hits its peak, Tamsin, a local lass wi’ a knack for buttin’ in, jumps on stage an’ grabs their instruments. She belts oot a tune on the bagpipes that’s pure magic, starts drummin’ like a pro, an’ even sings a bit, much tae the crowd’s delight but tae the annoyance o’ the Nae Pollution. The audience, who were ready tae riot, start cheerin’ an’ clappin’ fer Tamsin. Old Dirty Jim, nae wantin’ tae be outdone, starts shoutin’ even louder. “Go home, Nae Pollution! Ye’ve been replaced!” he cackles, adding tae the bedlam. The Nae Pollution are left standin’ there like a bunch o’ numpties, their own show stolen right fae under them by the ever-annoyin’ Tamsin. The theatre manager steps in tae stop the madness, but it’s too late. NaeStock goes doon in history as the worst, yet most memorable, concert ever. Kevin, Lance, an’ Chad limp back tae Kevin’s hoose, covered in muck an’ humiliation. “We’re shite at this,” Kevin admits, finally understandin’ the obvious. “Aye,” Lance agrees, “but we made a right spectacle, didn’t we?” An’ so, the legend o’ NaeStock wis born, a cautionary tale o’ three eejits who thought they could rock but ended up a right laughing stock, overshadowed by the annoyin’ but talented Tamsin an’ heckled relentlessly by Old Dirty Jim. Slàinte!