Oh Aye! Scotty Talks Through His Bunnet : Scotland: Popular radio show host thinks of himself as a worker with practical advice, such as, ‘Stay oot the nick!’ and, ‘Keep yer hand on yer ha’penny and yer knickers well oop.’

It’s three minutes to air time, and Colin Lamont is crafting a bit of provocation.

“With the shortage of men around these days, apparently many older women are turning to each other for comfort, and in fact even becoming lesbian,” he writes on a pad.

“They’ll love this,” he says with a satisfied snort. Then clapping a cloth cap on his head, Lamont dons his professional identity as Scotty McClue, Scottish broadcasting phenomenon.

Scotty McClue’s “Nightline” is a distinctly Scottish mix of smut, leg-pulling, lectures on self-help and education, and debates on capital punishment and taxi service--plus the occasional poor soul overwhelmed with drink and sorrow, such as the woman who moans, “Scotty, my father’s two years dead tomorrow.”

The three-hour slot, opening at 10 p.m. every weeknight, was the making of Scot FM, a commercial station that started up last September. It’s now pulling audience shares that talk jocks in London can only envy.

The “lovable lassie on the big switchboard” has callers lined up and waiting as Scotty eases into his chair, spinning out the night’s topic:

“I mean, let’s be honest about it, we’ve all seen women dancing with each other and disappearing to the loo together at social functions. What does this all mean?”

Jane, a caller with a big family and “lovely grandbairns” (grandchildren), takes the bait, calling Scotty’s theory “a wee bit degradin’.”

Scotty accuses her of not listening. “See, you senior citizens are needin’ to clean your lugs [ears] oot. . . . You could grow totties [potatoes] in your lugs!”

Jane persists.

“What are you men that go to this pub, yer gents’ clubs, yous all go inta the toilet, yous all pee together, yous certainly have nae doors shut behind you, what do you stay in there for? . . .

“We dinna call you men all fancy names because yous got together and yous all pee together, we do not call you fancy names.”

But when a gay woman phones in--”If people are showin’ love to each other, what’s the problem?” she says--Scotty turns all courteous.

Nor is she offended by his ranting.

“To be honest, I think your show’s great because it gives the people of Scotland a voice and it’s a voice they’ve been needin’ a long time.”

By U.S. standards, Scotty runs a very couth mouth. Broadcast rules in Britain forbid partisan raving in the Rush Limbaugh manner, and he shuns talk about Scotland’s religions, especially soccer.

He pulls the biggest radio audience in Scotland in his time slot, more than double the runner-up. Scot FM has a “reach”--the number of people tuning in at least once a week--of 12% in its market, compared to 4% for Talk Radio UK, which broadcasts nationwide.

Lamont’s conception of McClue is summed up in the close-fitting cloth cap, the “bunnet,” that he wears all through the program.

“In Scotland, if you wore a bowler, you were boss; if you wore a bunnet, you were a worker,” he says before going on air. “So people I admired very often, they would go to get dressed to go out drinking on a Friday night, they would wear their tweed jacket, their tartan tie and their bunnet. All shaved, shoes brushed, cavalry twills, and that was them dressed.”

Scotty preaches pride, self-reliance and education, and castigates single mothers--”keep yer hand on yer ha’penny and yer knickers well oop,” he advises girls.

Scotland’s numerous nationalists, who blame all woes on the union with England, get short shrift.

“How you doin’ Scotty? I’ve got a problem here,” says Peter. “My wife’s been offered a good job in England.”

“That’s not a problem,” Scotty snaps.

Winning converts is a hard slog. Mick, who had phoned in four months earlier when he got out of jail, calls to say he has a job and “I’m doin’ awright.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I love you to bits. You’re a genius,” Scotty purrs. “Stay oot the nick!”

“Well,” Mick says, “I was up at court but I got away wi’ it, I got . . .”

“You got acquitted?”

“Aye, a couple a weeks ago so it was awright, that was a wee result,” Mick says as Scotty cracks up.

John calls to complain about Scotty’s defense of Prince Philip, who made a crack about local drinking habits. “If I came on your show and made a joke about certain minority groups, I don’t think you’d think it was funny,” John complains.

“Yeah, but I’m sorry,” says Scotty McClue. “Scots people being drunk is not a minority group.”