***** (5 stars)
“What a stunner!”
Having been gripped by the Fringe Show Athens of the North, written and performed by Mark Hannah and directed by Fraser Scott, it was no surprise that Common Tongue, written and directed by Fraser, was equally mesmerising. Written fur fowk who huv been telt tae speak ‘proper’ their hale life, this show is full of ideas about language, identity, culture and, possibly most important of all, the Scottish Cringe.
Olivia Caw’s Bonnie McKay looked slightly awkward as she came on to the subtly tartan-bedecked stage, but as soon as the house lights came up enough for us to be seen, she was away… Within seconds she had us laughing, and the laughs continued throughout the show as we were drawn into her world and her story.
Bonnie grew up speaking Scots, raised by her paw, laughing at his poems, relishing the richness of the language [so many different descriptors for the weather!] and a sure refuge in times of stress and distress. The Scots language, along with Gaelic, was given official status by the parliament at Holyrood in July 2025: but for centuries before this had been suppressed, discouraged, banned…
“Scots is not the language of educated people” – Bonnie struggles with the challenge of encountering her boyfriend’s parents for the first time. She’s already discovered at primary school that words she finds rich and satisfying are seen by many as dirty, ‘not said in this house’; that her and her best friend’s houses illustrate totally different priorities. Painfully aware of arriving late and sweaty, she’s trying not to make any mess in a pristine house like a show catalogue. His parents’ language is nothing like her own. As she’s grilled about her education and her hopes for the future she knows they’re making the standard assumptions about her intelligence and class. Trying so hard to be friendly, with so little encouragement, her habit of opening her mouth and talking without hinking covers her with embarrassment and she rushes out of the house completely forgetting to collect the shoes she was asked to remove on arrival.
Bonnie realises that she is fascinated by language itself, and goes to uni to study English. There’s a wonderful poetry session where the always-right Christopher is invited to read Burns’ To a mouse. Bonnie can’t bear it – she bursts out of her habitual shell and declaims the poem as it should be said, and we all rejoice at her vision of Rabbie cheering her on. How can the others in the class understand the poem – none of youse don’t speak these words – it’s not their native tongue.
The opportunity to do a year in America gives Bonnie further food for thought [though the country is in some way familiar to her from telly and the fillums]. So many Americans claim some Scottish ancestry, know so little about the country and its people, and struggle to understand her language. A Hogmanay party at times feels like Glasgow [though without Jackie Bird] but she is thrown completely off balance when asked to explain auld lang syne and realises she dinnae ken whit it means. A phone call to her pa helps her get herself back together: she goes back into the party, explains the words, and gets everyone there [and us!]not only to sing again but get the arms right and at the right time too.
Back home after graduation, Bonnie is horrified to discover how small she finds her home surroundings now her horizons have expanded. A theatre trip with her pa leads to a total cringe moment, but a visit to the local to hear ‘a band’ has a profound effect. Words carry our history, and though it’s exhausting continually to engage in the mental gymnastics of tweaking how you speak, it’s important to keep hold of those words and the identity they give you.
The richly descriptive language, Bonnie’s wry asides and epithets, and her full-on engaging personality bring her story painfully to life yet have us howling with laughter at the same time. There’s much to muse on – how can a word make fowk so uncomfortable regardless of content or context? Why am I seen as stupid or ignorant for speaking in my mother tongue? Why do I always assume that it’s me who’s wrang? And yet – I make similar assumptions about people who ‘speak posh’, or who make uninformed comments about my native land…
Language is part of our identity. We may share a common tongue but… Uniformity is death. Diversity and difference are salt, light and life. Vive la difference!
Common Tongue, Festival Theatre Studio, Edinburgh, RUN ENDED but Scottish Tour continues until Saturday 18th of October for more information go to: https://www.creativescotland.com/news-stories/latest-news/archive/2025/09/common-tongue-returns-to-scottish-stages-with-autumn-tour
ScotsGay Arts 