two random Scots on the streets of Portsmouth share their thoughts on the N.H. primary

It happens every four years: The waxing and waning of familiar and presidential that is the N.H. primary season, where brushes with greatness lurk around any corner. That redhead at The Red Door your co-worker is hitting on might be Mrs. Kucinich or Maureen Dowd. That tiny grape on the far side of the Brewery could be, close up, Guliani’s courageously uncomb-overed cranium, or Biden’s brain-bulging, hair-plugged forehead. That responsible citizen delivering a baby in line at the post office is, hopefully, Dr. Paul.

This time around, things are even stranger. The actual date of the N.H. primary swims obscurely through future time like a harbor seal treading brackish water in a turning tide. Exactly when the unstoppable force of the campaign trail meets the immoveable object of the N.H. primary is something only Secretary of State Bill Gardner knows for sure.

Traditionally, New Hampshire follows that corn-fed, dialectical gabfest that is the Iowa caucus. Sen. Christopher Dodd (whose head, from afar, has been mistaken for a snowball) has sworn allegiance to New Hampshire’s predominance, which Sen. Carl Levin (whose semblance to an olden-day shoemaker has been noted by Jon Stewart) considers “cockamamie.” Michigan, Florida, Utah, and other jealous states crave New Hampshire’s spotlight as desperately as a foot fetishist clings to his or her own feet on a desert island. But, N.H. state law dictates that its primary occur at least a week before others, giving Gardner sole authority to decide the date—and he’s not telling until after Thanksgiving.

All we can be sure of is that planning what to wear to the polls, at this point, seems as useless as a melting watch in a frozen landscape. As Gardner surreally stalls for time to speed things up, his similarity to the Wizard of Oz increases—as do similarities between the primary and a whacky Scottish village that reappears for one day every 100 years. And, just when the N.H. primary starts to seem more like Brigadoon than Brigadoon itself, real Scottish people (not the phony ones Rush complains about) suddenly appear.

As if a bagpipe-shaped star following a yellow brick road from the Coat of Arms ricocheted off the parking garage and exploded behind Gilley’s, Bonnie Heather and Bobby Burns have magically materialized. Precisely when is unknown. Like Shakespeare’s “Scottish play,” they daren’t mention their real identities, nor which campaign they volunteer for ...

You say that if you reveal the name of your candidate, you’d have to kill me. But, can you at least tell me how shiny his hair is, if he speaks Spanish or has served in the military, if he’s a TV star or just looks like one, is formerly obese, black yet maybe not black enough, or is a she?
No. But he’s a “tottie,” that’s Scottish for “hottie,” aka “hot potato.”

Is working for him almost like being in love? And, how does “tottie” differ from “toddy”?
All three will cure your ills.

In “Brigadoon,” which takes place either before or after Gene Kelly got tired of being an American in Paris, he leaves New Hampshire, where he can’t stop thinking about Cyd Charisse, to get wasted in a New York City bar, lamenting, “Why do people have to lose things to find out what they really mean?” Do you think that best describes the way Gardner feels about New Hampshire’s first in the nation status, or how Rep. Tom Tancredo doesn’t see the role of Mexican immigrants in the U.S. economy?
We’re here to learn. New Hampshire voters seem informed. But, we can’t really speak to race. Scotland is a model of race relations. Sectarianism between Christians and Protestants, especially football (soccer) hooliganism, is intense, though. Still, church and state are quite separate. We’re both ‘Ginger Jews,’ yet in school attended Jewish, Muslim or Christian student assemblies.

What do Ginger Jews think about skinheads?
There are about 5,000 of us in Scotland. I’m a semi-blueblood, and Jewish by accident. She’s Jewish by design. No real skinhead or interracial problems to speak of.

You must find cliches annoying. Yet is it true copper wire was invented by two Scotsmen fighting over a penny?
Yes, and Scotsmen are also well-kilted and equipped, and sheep are well-liked ... We do enjoy our filthy humor.

How is Scotland on the Iraq War and Tony Blair’s role?
Scotland tends to be pro-anyone who is anti-war. Scotland is quite Labor, but Blair’s New Labor Party lost in the last election. Liberal Democrats and the Scottish National Party won hugely. Westminster’s worried some Scots want to devolve from the UK. We have North Sea oil and gas.

Did Groundskeeper Willie hail from Brigadoon, Glenbogle or Hogsmeade?
He’s from Springfield, Scotland. We’re both Glaswegian, aka “Weedgies.”

Sounds like ...
Wedgie? Both can be pains in the arse. Glasgow is more like Chicago. There’s wealth, but it’s industrial, working class. Edinburgh is more English and into class, more like New York, artistic. Edinbuggars dislike Weedgies.

“Journey to the Center of the Earth” was filmed in Edinburgh, and here you are at the center of politics in America—coincidence?
As I said, we’re from Glasgow.

Abruptly, before they revealed where to get the best haggis in New Hampshire—that is, quicker than disregarded parking tickets form a boot, yet slower than a busy podiatrist sees a neglected bunion—Bonnie and Bobby Highland reeled away into the mystic worm-holey mist of the N.H. primary.