"Among the city's many treasures, none shines brighter, in my view, than the incomparable Burrell Collection, and after checking into my hotel, I hastened there now by taxi, for it is a long way out. 'D'ye nae a lang roon?' said the driver as we sped along a motorway toward Pollock Park. 'I'm sorry,' I said for I don't speak Glaswegian. 'D'ye dack ma fanny?' I hate it when this happens - when a person from Glasgow speaks to me. 'I'm sorry,' I said and floundered for an excuse. 'My ears are very bad.' 'Aye, ye nae hae doon a lang roon,' he said, which I gathered meant, 'I'm going to take you a very long way around and look at you frequently in the mirror with these menacing eyes so that you'll begin to wonder if perhaps I'm taking you to a disused wharf where I will beat you up and take your money,' but he said nothing further and delivered me at the Burrell without incident."
I found this especially funny because I myself have been in a very similar situation, except it involved two jolly Glaswegian men searching my bags at the airport and not a menacing taxi driver. I usually have little problems understanding people who are from other countries. There are two notable exceptions for this, Jamaicans and Glaswegians.