It’s a braw bricht moonlicht nicht the nicht.
Ye cannae shove yer granny aff a bus.
Lang may yer lum reek.
There’s nae such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothing.
Dinnae fash yersel.
Whit’s fur ye’ll no go past ye.
I’m as baffled as a coo in a cage.
Ye can tak’ a lassie tae the tap o’ the hill, but ye cannae make her drink.
Gie it laldy!
Yer bum’s oot the windae.
I’m fair puckled.
Don’t be a fash.
That’s like lookin’ fer a needle in a haystack.
He’s as sharp as a beachball.
Awa’ an bile yer heid.
She’s a bonnie lass.
It’s aw gone pear-shaped.
It’s a piece o’ cake.
It’s as easy as falling aff a log.
She’s a fine piece.
He’s as daft as a brush.
It’s a wee jobby.
He’s a right numpty.
It’s a boggin’ wee thing.
We’re a’ Jock Tamson’s bairns.
Lang may yer lum reek.
She’s a right skanky wee cow.
He’s as ugly as the back end o’ a bus.
Don’t be a numpty.
It’s a drookit day.
Ye cannae mak’ a silk purse oot o’ a sow’s lug.
It’s belterin’ doon.
Ye cannae teach an auld dog new tricks.
Nae danger!
She’s as miserable as sin.
It’s like pissin’ against the wind.
I’m in a wee bit of a pickle.
I’m as happy as a pig in mud.
It’s a pure stoater.
I’m up tae my oxters in it.
Don’t be a wee nyaff.
It’s a pure belter
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