I think Lord Lucan is alive and well and living in Branahuie

FANCY being in a place where even the people who live there can hardly pronounce it.

Actually, it happens here in the islands quite a bit because there are so many Gaelic names which don’t translate easily into the language of those down saff, innit.

For example, pick up a visitor from the mainland at Stornoway Airport, drive out and the first thing they will see is a sign that says Branahuie. They always ask the same thing: so do they make bran in Bran-na-huey?

So you put right the imbecilic incomer and tell them it is just a triple-glazed shanty town of people who hate travelling, so they live close to the airport in case they ever have to go to the mainland in a hurry. That keeps them happy for a bit.

Then, for good measure, you tell them the correct name of the place is Braigh na h-Aoidhe. You then spell it out, talking very slowly, and tell them the shorter form on the road sign is just to make it easier for our dear visitors from Engelant and Whales.

For the rest of the journey into town you have to put up with a confused traveller trying in his own head to make sense of how that particular so-called “easy” combination of letters doesn’t rhyme with Hughie.

It is just a shouting noise of which there are no grammatical examples in the entire Oxford English Dictionary, they ponder.

Apparently, there are people who have moved to that noisy township who have stayed quiet for years practising that end bit every day before they have even attempted to try and tell anyone else where they live. It would be embarrassing to admit you can’t say where you live.

Branahuie resident not seen since 1974?

I bet that is why no one has heard from Lord Lucan for a while. He is not actually missing, just living quietly in Branahuie and is too mortified to tell anyone he can’t pronounce it. When was he last seen? 1974? Should be getting close now, but it does take a while to get it right.

In case you are thinking of going down to Branahuie to try to find Lord Lucan, remember that his appearance may have changed. Where once he was the dapper mustachioed earl shown in press photos, the ravages of decades may mean he is not so immaculate now and he could just come out with nonsense.

Remember there are other residents in that village who also make little sense at the best of times. If you do meet a suspicious-looking local character who rambles on incessantly about this and that, make sure you haven’t just met David Morrison, the radio boss and insurance supremo. Or even Glenn Denny, another Isles FM widecaster.

So just to be clear, neither of these two Branahuievians is wanted in connection with any murder. However, as most people here are aware, both their tastes in music should definitely be a crime of some kind.

Down in Harris, Amhuinnsuidhe is another splendid name for setting off the migraines of tourists. While, on Barra, you can’t pronounce Earsaraidh correctly without some right-on visitor being aghast that anyone would use language like that in polite company. Particularly the ones from Stornoway who are all convinced it is terribly rude.

Another one is Airidhbhruach, that village by the uppermost extremities of Loch Seaforth and which is famous for many reasons. That long, straight stretch of road just to the south of the settlement meant that, when I was young, it was the place to go to test how fast your car could go. A weekend was not complete until you had flipped over your clapped-out Ford Escort Mk1 at a heart-stopping 55mph and then crawled back to Airidhbhruach on all fours to phone home to say you needed a lift to the hospital to repair your face.

You couldn’t phone an ambulance because the cops would come and you weren’t insured.

Never happened to me, of course. Just something I heard about. Can’t think where. Maybe I dreamed it. Yeah, that must be it. Never happened. Forget I said anything.

Since then, however, the village has become notable for several things. Apart from the awesome wealth of its inhabitants, there is the magnificent singing voice of Donald Martin, the mysterious mini-Taj Mahal built on the left of the road as you approach from the north and, of course, the delightful Katie Ann Mackenzie, she of Gaelic radio fame.

Now the very name of the village is set to be stamped into our consciousness by the efforts of no less than the AGOFR (that’s Avante Gaelic Obscurist Folk Rock) supergroup. Made up of members of notable beat combos like The Guireans, the Dun Ringles, The Iain MacKinnon Experience, Memphis Louie and the Rockin’ Firebird of Death, they have put together an emotional soul-prodder of a ballad that celebrates all that is excellent about Airidhbhruach.

It is crafted like the aria that is Hallelujah, penned by Leonard Cohen but which everyone under 50 thinks was made famous by Simon Cowell and last year’s X Factor winner person.

With words that play heavily on the ongoing strife waged between our allegedly softer town-dwellers and the more hard-edged country gentlemen, it may be immediately apparent to some that the lads’ lyrics are not quite those of the legendary Mr Cohen.

The original, of course, has many lines that rhyme with Hallelujah. How could AGOFR tackle that challenge?

The language purists don’t approve,
It’s Airidh a’ bhruaich, ya townie pooves,
Pronounce it right or we will fleekeen do ya.

If you have been there before,
You probably won’t go back no more,
Especially if you’re a deer – because they’ll stew ya.

Listen to it several times on YouTube and tell me it is not the most awe-inspiring tribute to a village and its people that you have ever heard.

And if Lord Lucan hears it, it could be the final straw that makes him hand himself in.