Planet Hogmanay

Hogmanay, the night when anything can happen and usually it does.

Definitely!

It's Hogmanay, everybody, and tonight we're saying cheerio to the old

-and a right big...

-Hello.

..to the new.

For one night only, we're going global,

ramping up to the bells by taking a riotous look

at how the rest of the world chooses to see in our night.

That's right, our night,

because we invented celebrating the New Year...didn't we?

We put the mental into sentimental.

It's a time of hope.

And trying to get off with people you shouldn't.

Yay!

We're dancing with bears, sparking up dummies...

A right arsonist. It's a bit scary, know what I mean?

..diving into the future

and getting stuck into some festive fisticuffs.

I think it's time somebody was told a few home truths.

Argh!

We'll also look back at the proud Scottish traditions we've lost,

and the ones we can resurrect.

Is this a Scottish thing? I'm Scottish, I've never... What is it?

So pull on your lucky pants and prepare for lift-off

as we soberly reflect on which nation gets most mad with it

and take a whistle-stop tour around the wild and wonderful world

of our Planet Hogmanay.

Ring out the old

Ring in the new

Ring happy bells across the snow

The year is going, let him go...

Tonight we're going to party like it's 2016,

so join me in saying "come away in" to your exclusive guest list.

Hi, everyone.

Hello, hello!

A happy New Year when it comes.

Sit ye doon.

Hogmanay, to me, means getting together, good friends,

good company, remembering, you know, the times you used to have,

the Hogmanays you used to have in Scotland.

To me, it means, when I was younger, getting to stay up late,

have some Babycham.

Cold out, isn't it?

-Shortbread!

-HE CLAPS

Right!

New Year's Eve, like all great inventions in the world,

is undoubtedly Scottish.

We've got the phone, we've got penicillin, we've got the telly -

the three things you need for a perfect Hogmanay -

and New Year's Eve is Scottish.

It's a build-up. Everybody's looking forward to Hogmanay,

they've booked their parties and it's a buzz, there's an energy.

I've always loved it, always loved it.

Hogmanay's nae big deal to me.

Hogmanay's just like another day of the week.

It's like Hogmanay... In my life, it's like Hogmanay every weekend,

isn't it, really? What I mean by that is it's not like a big party,

it's just like I'm kind of always needing a new start every weekend,

you know what I mean?

I always have to make some new resolutions every week.

So what's all this about, then?

Hogmanay? Right.

What do you want to know?

Well, Phil, we all want to know how the planet celebrates New Year.

Let's kick off at home - Caledonia.

Wha's like us in the party stakes?

Scotland invented that fun, festive tradition of tidying up.

There's oose loose aboot this hoose.

Hogmanay is a busy time.

All over Scotland people give their homes a good clean

so that everything will be fresh and bright when the New Year comes.

Out with the old, and open up the bleach.

This Hogmanay tidy-up is known as "redding the house".

Redding, clear everything. The old year's gone.

This was the full thing. The curtains came down,

the windows were cleaned, the bakkie was taken out.

That's the wee ash can under the fire.

Polish the floors, polish the furniture.

Gosh, that is quick.

Oh, yes, I'm a fair speed demon with my Flash.

And people now boast about it on social media -

"That's me, everything's cleared. A new slate, it's a new me."

And you're going, "Whit, you've hoovered?"

That's just tidying your hoose.

That's something you should be doing regularly.

One old custom is to open the door

to let the old year out and the new year in.

It's all about getting rid of evil spirits

and I think the point is that that evil accrues during the year.

You have to leave the windows and curtains open so the old year

-can get out, and the New Year can get in.

-Really?

-Oh, yeah.

-I never knew that.

-And the burglars.

Many people believe that a bright fire means a lucky year ahead,

so every Hogmanay they light a fire

to burn the old year out and the new year in.

So we strike a match to extinguish evil.

Let's say feliz ano nuevo to Panama,

where they really torch their demons.

They build an effigy of someone they dislike and then they'll burn it

and then they'll leap over it,

as if that's them jumping into the new year.

This flame-filled tradition practised by fire-starters

all over Central and South America symbolically burns all the failures,

regrets, gripes and scapegoats of the old year.

While we're dusting our houses, these Panamanian pyromaniacs

are crafting effigies in papier-mache before driving up...

No, no, that's...no chance that's going to fit, nope.

Try it on the roof. Yeah, that's it.

After all, you don't want to damage it before you burn it.

It's a chance to say adios to what bugs you.

It seems to be very much going, "That year is done. It's over."

Some believe this fire-fest dates back to a yellow-fever epidemic

that required the mass burning of corpses.

These days, dummies from sportsmen to politicians face the fury

and feel the burn, though quite what Woody from Toy Story

did to annoy Panama is anyone's guess.

Obviously don't try this at home.

I think it's an ultimate revenge that no-one can touch you for.

So, at the end of the year when Scotland's World Cup hopes

were so cruelly dashed, would it be a "reffigy" we'd pick?

I just wonder what the rugby boys would make of it.

Disappointment still clinging to all those connected to Scottish rugby...

Oh, no, I'm getting flashbacks.

The ref...the line-out...

the knock-on... Joubert!

If there was an effigy getting burnt in Scotland this year,

I don't know who that would be.

-No, not that I remember.

-No, none that I could think of.

Because we're kind of mair football guys,

it was difficult to figure out what happened. People were kind of going,

"That's outrageous!" And then you're going, "But what happened?"

And they were like, "We don't really know."

Gracias, Panama.

Fun, but maybe a bit loco.

Whereas, in Scotland, our ancient traditions make perfect sense...

Man, it takes a Scotsman who's been saving up his temper

and his thirst for the occasion to appreciate New Year's Eve.

Bring in the haggis, let's hear a wee bit music.

..traditions our comedy shows respect enormously.

No matter how cold it may be out here, we can be sure of

a very warm welcome when we go in to join the festivities.

And, may I say, what a bumper bundle of fun we have for you tonight.

We've got soul singers, we've got bands, we've got pipers,

we've got accordion players, we've got the lot.

And if you think that sounds terrific, you should see

the celebrity guest list.

Yes, there are stars of stage, screen, record, cabaret, television,

Highland Games, and they all have one thing in common, because tonight

is the only night in the entire year when any of them will work.

Hogmanay stirs our memories of parties past.

Time to get nostalgic down memory lane, reminiscing about reminiscing.

When I was a kid, Hogmanay was something you really, really

looked forward to because you nev... for a start,

you never got to stay up until after midnight.

You know, that was a really special treat.

And it was a real...Scottish party.

Family and food. You were up late,

you were getting filled with sweeties, you were drinking juice.

It was brilliant, you know what I mean? It was really good fun.

We always had a sing-song. Auntie... - well, I'll not say her name -

she used to sing to her husband because she hated her husband.

I mean, really hated him.

But she's kept him, but she hated him.

And she used to sing -

# Some of these days you're gonna miss me, honey... #

And eyes like cold steel.

If she got an encore she sang -

# You're free to go, darling... #

They made me sing at Hogmanay sometimes and I was too shy

so I'd sing from behind the couch

and I'd just sing over the top of the couch.

I had somebody in my family that used to leave the room and go

into the hall and sing from the hall and just with the door ajar.

# Wee chookie birdie... #

That was the song, as well?

That was the song, aye. Wee Chookie Birdie.

You're not going to get, you know,

Nessun Dorma from somebody that has to go into the hall.

I remember going about looking for parties, looking up at closes

and looking up at the flats and seeing who looked like they were

having the best party, and everybody let you in.

There was no buzzers in those days at the door,

so you would just go up and just join in a party

and if that was rubbish

then you'd maybe go to the next close or whatever.

But...yeah, it was always disappointing.

Is that terrible to say that?

Not at all, Jane.

Maybe this year we'll raise the roof.

24, 23, 22, 21...

-Jim.

-What the hell's going on upstairs?

Stop the countdown, Jim. We've decided to abort.

-Abort? Over my dead body.

-Abort it, Jim. Abort it!

No! This project's all systems go.

Stop the countdown, Jim! Thousands of innocent people could suffer.

..three, two, one...

Cue announcer!

Now we go over to Aberdeen and The Hogmanay Show.

Scotland's the ultimate nation of party animals,

but, in Romania, they party AS animals.

An nou fericit, Romania!

Get on your best fur coat and step out for some pagan evil-bashing.

Yeah, the dancing bears of Romania, aye.

Taking it up a notch from dusting the lobby or burning dummies,

this caper is intended to put the frighteners

on any pesky, uncouth vibes following us into the New Year.

THEY look like evil spirits.

I don't see how in any way that they would be warding them off.

The bear is a powerful image to the Romanians.

Hibernation and waking symbolises resurrection

and represents the birth of a new year.

Makes sense to me.

Would you argue with someone dressed as a bear?

And they're wearing actual bear skins.

Bears have been skinned for this ceremony.

Go to Primark, mate, they're doing really good onesies, seriously.

Very, very cheap.

They're all saying,

"We're going to pass these skins down from generation to generation."

Like, that's what bears used to do, just by having cubs.

HE SCREAMS

The advantage that I see of the dancing bear outfits

that they have in Romania in the street is there's always that thing

about Hogmanay, there's a pressure - "What are you going to wear?

"What are you going to wear?"

If we're all wearing the dancing bears, it takes that out of it.

"Are you wearing the bear? Fine, same as me. Perfect."

It's a proud, noble and GRISLY tradition.

In Scotland, we don't have any great track record

of dressing up as bears before the bells, but, once upon a time,

we were big on equine costumery.

Yes, long before Primark stocked onesies,

we went guising at Hogmanay -

squeezing on a horse's head and noising up the neighbours.

THEY SING MOURNFULLY

Their role was to come round

and basically, I suppose, scare away the evil spirits.

These jolly/terrifying scenes show this tradition occurring in Wales.

To re-enact our lost art, Scotland's pluckiest wrestler, Grado,

was happy to pull on a rubber cuddy's napper to get into a pub.

One he's barred from.

It'd certainly scare the bejesus out of me if they turned up at my door.

No doubt about it, that's a good look.

But if you really want to turn heads at Hogmanay,

you might want to take some fashion tips from Ecuador.

Time to say feliz ano nuevo

and doff our bunnets to these sensational senoras.

# I get all the girls I get all the girls

# I get all the girls I get all the girls

# I get all the girls... #

Why is it always, when guys cross-dress,

it's always the short skirts, it's the stockings, suspenders,

schoolgirls dancing to Britney Spears with lipstick on?

It's never, "Can you pass me a cardigan?

"Can you give me some pearls? That would be lovely."

OK, I knew they were men all along.

Running counter to the Ecuadorian culture of machismo,

these boys play the widows of the old dead year.

He's snuffed it and left his wife skint and the merry widows

beg for essentials for the wake, such as beer.

Penny for the guy in a skirt?

I'm just so impressed with... They've just got such a wiggle on.

I can't... I can't get over how good their wiggle is. I can't do that.

-I mean, that's some set of pins.

-Absolutely.

Would this appeal to any of our guests?

I think that is a cracking idea,

where you need to dress in your bird's or your maw's

or your gran's claes, stop motors on Hogmanay

and just annoy folk that are going out for a brilliant night out.

My song to dance in front of them

would probably be a song called Dick-A-Dum by Des O'Connor.

# Dick-a-dum-dum

# Dick-a-dum-dum, a-dick-a-dum-dum

# Dick-a-dum-dum, a-dick-a-dum-dum

# Dick-a-dum-dum A-dick-a-dum-dum... #

Hands across the ocean, the joy of Hogmanay is exchanging ideas.

Now, have we got all our party snacks?

Know what I've done? I've left them lying at the till.

-You're kidding me on.

-No, I was wishing a happy New Year

-to the wee lassie with the Santa hat...

-Oh, Eric!

-What's going on?

He's went and left the crisps and dips up by the till at Tesco's.

It's not my fault! It was the wee lassie with the Santa hat.

Oh, Christ, Eric!

All you had to do was go to the Costco, pick up the gazebo,

drop the flowers off at the cemetery, nip into Superdrug

and get me a pair of tights and then go to Tesco's

and get five packets of Kettle Chips, a big bag of Hula Hoops

-and some of that peri peri hummus.

-What's happening?

-It's a nightmare.

-What?

-There's no crisps.

I'm not bothered about crisps, anyway.

-What about tonic water? Did you get any of that?

-No.

Right, get yourself back up there, Eric.

-Do you need me to move my car?

-No, you stay where you are.

This is a party.

Yes, it's a party,

and those of us who don't have to squeeze into a miniskirt

for the bells can eat what we want.

Every hoolie needs scran, sustenance, grub.

We've all got our favourite Hogmanay snacks to keep our bouches amused.

-Stovies.

-Vol-au-vents.

-Steak pie.

-Finger buffet and a sausage roll.

Maybe an avocado or two.

Chipolata and a packet of Monster Munch.

Ritz crackers with that squeezy Primula cheese

and pickled onions with maybe a little bit of black pepper,

cos it was dead exotic.

Sophisticated, traditional and delicious,

but no party in Auchenshuggle would be complete

without Oor Wullie's Hogmanay favourite - black bun.

-Black bun?

-What is that?

I've never brought black buns on any day of the year.

Is this a Scottish thing? I'm Scottish, I've never... What is it?

Black bun, brioche noire, panettone negri?

Pastry base, fruitcake.

It's sweet, it's rich, it would've been expensive to make.

That was to say, "We will have this for the rest of the year."

But you can still get your teeth into new things.

Here, you tried these?

What's that?

Heaven, my friend. Paroka!

Paroka? Is it spicy?

Aye, they're good. Oh, them and all, have you tried them?

Samosas.

Oh, no, no, you're all right.

You don't know what you're missing.

Ease up, Jack, you're going to do yourself an injury.

Here, ho!

These are lovely. Did your wife make these, eh?

Oh, aye.

Paroka!

How do you stop yourself taking one mouthful too many?

Time to say a guten frohes neues Jahr to our pals in Germany.

This is what they do to warn against over-indulgence -

Russian, well, German roulette with doughnuts.

In one sweetness,

the other mustard. Achtung!

Spin the rings, take a bite.

We have to just pick one? It's kind of...

It's like Christopher Walken in The Deer Hunter.

This is not going to end well for me.

-Good luck.

-I'm going to hope the bigger one has jam in it.

I know I'm going to win this.

-Is this the bigger one?

-Yeah. Cheers.

A challenge to strike terror

into the hearts of hardened rugby players

and character comedy actors alike.

I got the mustard one.

Get it down you, Karen.

It's horrible!

Try it tonight.

It's disgusting as well.

To the victor, the spoils.

To the loser, the taste of mustard in your mouth for three days.

Danke, goodnight.

But enough globe-trotting.

Time to catch up with the New Year headlines where you are.

And now a recap of tonight's main stories.

Here to interpret for the neds is Rab McGlinchy.

RAB BELCHES

Oh, I nearly boaked up there. Season's greetings, troops!

The Hogmanay celebrations

are already in full flow in Princes Street, Edinburgh.

As always, there is a mix of music and fireworks,

with some top acts lined up to bring in the New Year.

Whoa, man, that's excellent, isn't it, aye?

Bunch of tourists, man, wearing kilts, drinking whisky, man.

Bunch of fandans.

Good chance for some heavy pickpocketing, but.

Elsewhere, Scotland's off-licences

have been reporting record sales of alcohol

and Strathclyde's chief of police

has been asking that everyone drink sensibly.

"Drink sensibly." How are you supposed to do that, man?

It's the New Year. What are they talking about?

If you're wanting a wee programme

about how you should drink sensibly, here's how it works.

You get some pakora, fire that in, right?

Then you drink a wee bit more, and then you get a samosa,

you fire that in, then tan the rest of your can.

Just keep going like that, putting stuff in the middle, right?

Then you blast up, bring the lot up, right,

before you go to your bed

cos you don't want to be firing it up on the sheets and all that

cos she'll go mental, no?

And, finally, the owners of a moggy named Sylvester were last night

reunited with the cat after it had spent nine hours stuck up a tree.

The owners feared that the New Year would come and go...

Whoa, wait a minute, man!

I'm no' listening to this pish, a daft cat up a tree, man.

There's bevvy to be drunk. Take a drink, you pie.

Aye, all right.

Happy New Year.

Cheers.

Cheers, guys.

Hogmanay is a great time for a stiff drink,

especially if you need to get the taste

of bowfin' doughnut out your mouth.

So, to wash the snacks down,

celebrated chef Tony Singh is in the kitchen,

brewing up a long lost traditional

Scottish Hogmanay swally of yesteryear - the het pint.

Eggs, sugar, bit of spice,

bit of nutmeg there, ale, whisky.

So we're going to make the het pint, very simple.

The het - or hot - pint

was traditionally carried in a copper kettle by first-footers.

Pop in the whisky.

Offered up to punters in the street -

the Mad Dog 20/20 of its day.

That's going to be nice.

And it's easy to prepare.

Heat the whisky and ale, add a dod of nutmeg,

whip up the sugar and eggs, mix it all together...

..do a shoogly Tom Cruise cocktail thing between two jugs and bosh!

Happy New Year, everybody!

Het pint, come on now, let's get back with the tradition.

Sweet and intoxicating. Recipe on website.

Please drink responsibly, particularly our viewers in Govan.

-SLURS:

-Hogmanay is coming up, right?

So, come Hogmanay, we'll have a dirty big party at my house.

There you are, what do you say?

-BOTH:

-Yeah, man!

Hogmanay...

How many sleeps is that, Rab?

It's not many, is it? It's not many.

There, there, there.

Oh, Rab...

Rab, will Mary let us have a party, you know,

with that wee disagreement we had last year with the riot squad?

I guarantee, James, I guarantee it.

I'll soften her up lovely.

Look, I've a Chinese takeaway,

I have...knicker-dropper...

and I've got Maltesers!

I've got every angle covered, you know?

What could possibly get in the way?

Hello there, Mary, doll.

Hello, Rab. Look who's staying for Hogmanay.

-Hello, Rab.

-Hello, Rob.

New Year gatherings can get tetchy. It's...

HE SPEAKS INDIGENOUS PERUVIAN LANGUAGE

..to Peru.

Here, the run-up to the bells is a traditional time

to knock seven bells out of each other.

Seconds out, ding-ding!

Slap, bang, wallop.

They just have a massive fight.

And they just arrange a scrap between somebody

that they don't like, so it gets out all the old aggressions

so they don't carry that through for the next year.

Whole villages in the rocky Andes channel their Rocky Balboas

to take part in a right good Takanakuy,

meaning "to hit each other".

That sounds like a good idea.

I'm surprised that we don't do that

because I think we would be good at that.

There's a long tradition of fighting as part of their judicial process,

as they have a distrust of local government settling their disputes.

Kind of universal sentiment, that, if you think about it.

I think that's brilliant.

If you've got something that you're annoyed with somebody,

somebody's said or done something,

you challenge them to a fight, and the first of January it's done.

How many times have you been at a family gathering,

it's usually at New Year, and you hear the phrase,

"I think it's time somebody was told a few home truths"?

Me and one of my best friends, Aileen,

her and I had a fight one New Year

because she wanted to rent Agnes Of God from the video shop

and I think I wanted to rent the Rocky Horror Show or something,

it was ridiculous.

And I've never had a fist fight before,

but we had a fight round at the shops and I bit her on the head.

The bouts, featuring all ages,

act as a form of social catharsis for the locals,

regardless of them swedging or not.

You're fighting with your friends. This is before you've had a drink.

You're getting it out your system. Drink and make up,

I think that's much better.

After that it was good, we sorted it out,

and she was right, Agnes Of God was a smashing film.

But we saw it in the new year.

Would we be up for a good punch-up,

then a cuddle for the bells in Scotland?

It could work, but then we'd miss all the good stuff on the telly.

A little drop of mulligatawny soup, Miss Sophie.

I'm particularly fond of mulligatawny soup, James.

Yes, I know you are.

This isn't some long-lost British TV comedy classic.

This is the sketch Germany loves so much,

Hogmanay wouldn't be Hogmanay without it.

The same procedure as last year, Miss Sophie?

The same procedure as EVERY year, James.

Dinner For One's send-up of pickled English aristocracy

has been shown on German prime-time TV every year since 1963.

It's one of those classic, like, one-gag, ten-minute stretch-outs.

The gag is that her ladyship is celebrating her 90th birthday,

but her friends have long since snuffed it

so James the butler makes up the numbers.

Cheerio, Miss Sophie.

Slainte! I mean...prost.

Admiral von Schneider.

There's a safety in that tradition

and, like, I do wonder if they're still at it.

They sure are.

The Germans adore its themes

of slapstick, celebration and melancholy.

It captures whatever the German word is for "zeitgeist" on Hogmanay.

I would love for people to just

traditionally want to watch the same sketch every year.

That would make our job really easy, wouldn't it?

-That would be good.

-It'd be good for the royalty fees.

And the punchline's a guaranteed crowd-pleaser at New Year.

Eine kleine hint of hanky-panky.

The same procedure as every year, James?

Well, I'll do my very best.

Same as last year?

One moment, frozen in time for the Germans.

But there's another place on the planet

where they were so desperate to start the New Year,

they altered the space-time continuum

and made headline news all over the world.

The South Pacific island nation of Samoa

is about to perform a magic trick.

It's going to make a whole day disappear.

At midnight tonight, its calendar will not change to Friday,

but to Saturday, December 31st.

Samoa binned a day. Now, is that allowed?

Yes, Sanj, you'd better believe it.

So, for Samoa, Friday December the 30th will never happen.

Samoa made the news in 2011

when they wound on their clocks 24 times

and moved across the date line.

For Samoans who can't wait for New Year's Eve parties,

this year, impatience has been rewarded.

So manuia le tausaga fou to Samoa,

now one of the first places on the planet

to celebrate the bells rather than one of the last.

So they get to be the first ones to party,

everyone watches them, big celebrations.

New Year's Eve has come early to Samoa in the South Pacific.

The tiny nation has moved across the international date line.

I can't think of any other equivalent madness that's happened.

It's like a total Jedi mind trick.

Like, "It's tomorrow. What happened to today?"

"Well, it is today but it's also tomorrow. It's New Year's Eve."

It's amazing!

The problem is that all their pals

and cousins from American Samoa, obviously connected to America,

they're still on the same date and time as they were before,

so they're now celebrating...only 50 miles away but 24 hours later.

They're like a day behind in this.

Just imagine if you could celebrate that in Glasgow

and then go down the motorway and celebrate it in Edinburgh.

Just imagine what a mess you're going to be at that second New Year.

Two Hogmanays, two New Years. Do you like Hogmanay?

Do you want some more?

Follow the example of Samoa. Genius.

Hogmanay mega-party double-dunt. Is there a word for that?

Oh, my God!

What's the matter, Mother?

I'm sick o' this Hogmanay caper.

I could dae wi' a bite to eat.

I've got a black bun in the oven.

No. Oh, no, I'd raither stay stairvin'.

Och, away and get knotted!

Go on, get stuffed!

-USING RECEIVED PRONUNCIATION:

-Let us examine

some of the lovely Glaswegian words and phrases

we have heard in Mattie's kitchen.

When the young man reveals that he is thirsty,

Mattie is more than a little concerned.

With difficulty,

she utters a traditional Hogmanay cry...

The young man resents the implication that he is parsimonious

and he answers his hostess in her native tongue...

He thereupon places a bottle of wine on the table.

Alas, Mattie is not impressed.

She uses a word borrowed from an old Spanish lament...

She swiftly adds the harsh-sounding Teutonic expletive "bliddiplonk"

to complete the condemnation...

Right, stop the trip for a sec.

All over Scotland, the parties are in full swing

as we get ready for the big countdown to the bells.

But, first, a quick New Year's Eve parlour game.

For a doughnut and a het pint,

can anyone tell me what Hogmanay means?

Jane?

Oh, Hogmanay...

Well, black bun, shortbread...

Sorry, Jane, I'm being etymological.

Where does the word come from?

Hogmanay, from the old Scots Gaelic Latin "Hogmanay",

which means...HOGMANAY!

Hogmanay. Hog... Hogmananay.

Hogmanay gives you a really, really good score in Scrabble.

Hog...man...ay.

I've no idea, mate.

But there's a lot of words that you don't know where it's come from.

Houghmagandy?

There's plenty of that goes on at Hogmanay, that's for sure.

Umbrella?

Is there a reason why that's called that?

Don't expect to see Grado on the New Year's Day QI.

What you should do, you should get a historian in or something

to explain it. You certainly shouldnae ask us, because

-we don't know what Hogmanay means.

-Nah, not got a clue.

We don't know what it means.

There's a debate about where it comes from,

whether the origin is Norse, or it's Flemish, or it's French.

The French is "homme est ne", "man is born". Now, that's fascinating.

It all seems to be words and phrases that relate to a new beginning,

or a good day, or a friendship and kinship.

The Gaelic "ogemaidne," it's got to come from there.

Scandinavians make the case for their feast of yule, Hoggonott.

Hoggonott, happy Hoggonott.

Sounds like a group of superheroes, the Hoggonotts, doesn't it?

-Or baddies, surely?

-Or super-pigs.

They're baddies, are they no', Hoggonotts?

Back to our travels on this very special Hoggonott.

We've checked out how the planet gets rid of the old year,

we've picked up a few party tips,

we've bid for a few bear skins on eBay.

But how should we prepare for the thrill of the new?

Leave it to chance?

No way, Jose!

From South America, to Italy, to Turkey, many believe the colour

of your underwear - yep, your undercrackers, jockeys, scants,

bawbags or knick-knacks - irrefutably dictates how your year will pan out.

Yellow for wealth and red for...?

Red pants, red equals danger, doesn't it?

Why would you want any danger attached to that part of your body?

Underwear footage added for intellectual criticism

and review purposes only.

Red pants were supposed to bring you, like, sexy-sexy-time.

It's going to be all about the love.

Well, there'll be a lot of big pants in there as well.

Very, very big pants.

Lot of luck. Like, a l-o-o-t of luck.

As any expert in futurology, colour pigmentation or underpants

will tell you, this tradition stems from red symbolising fertility.

But why stop there? Whatever you want next year,

there's a pair of pants that's the right shade to make it happen.

I personally tend to go for the sort of slightly grey ones

with the hole in them, you know?

So I don't know what that's going to bring me.

I used to play with lucky pants for years and years but by...

To be honest, by the end,

the lucky pair of pants weren't keeping anything in.

I'm currently wearing white pants, so that presumably means

that I'm just going to have some kind of incredibly virginal year.

Do you see yourself in a thong?

I'd gie it a bash.

Easy, Darren.

Hogmanay's also a time of sombre reflection and this

man of the cloth's sombre reflections were nothing short of hilarious.

Hello.

Well, here we are again, eh?

Doesn't time fly when you're excruciatingly happy?

What a year I've had.

Honestly, as the...

What's his name? God...

As God is my judge, I've had a hell of a year.

To start with, Ephesia's been telling everybody about her OBE.

That's her out-of-body experience.

If only she'd had the sense not to go back in.

Aye, she told me she left her body

and floated right up to the ceiling

and then drifted out the window. God, if only I'd been

awake at the time I could've nailed the window shut.

From the reflective to the future.

It's a gott nytt ar to Scandinavia,

where they take predicting the new year very seriously indeed.

-I'm going to go for the bell.

-I'm going to go for the pig here.

It's a bit like an episode of The Wire, isn't it?

The end of my bell's starting to go.

This is molybdomancy and it's as good a way as any to try

and fathom out how the next 12 months will unravel.

Heat the lead, tip into cold water, hey presto,

random shapes predict your year ahead.

Basically, my year's going to go off like a firework, I think.

That means your limbs are going to separate from your body this year.

Right, hope for the best here. Here we go.

Look at that!

-Mine's a beauty.

-Be honest, we've all thought about trying

something like this during the party season.

I don't even smoke and I got a big pipe and it means

be careful, danger approaches.

Is there anything else we can melt?

Will we try and get a bit of the carpet up?

Expect Robert to open his own smelt works in early 2016,

or get done for arson.

But back to the big build-up.

Well, as we leave the hullabaloo of Princes Street,

you join me here with less than 60 minutes to go

now to the stroke of midnight.

I'm here at McGowan Hall, the old folks' home,

and I'm amongst the old people here who have no family, of course,

but are still up for a bit of a party!

ALL CHEER

With me, Betty McCarrol.

Betty, are you looking forward to the bells?

Oh, aye, aye. Hogmanay's a rare time, you know? It's magical.

It's a time when people should just forget their differences

and join together in harmony.

Oh, a lovely sentiment there. Thanks very much, Betty.

But, tell me, is this going to be the best New Year ever for you?

Well, it'll have to go some to beat 1941.

My Charlie was away fighting at the front at that time,

along with half the street.

But, see, for us that were left, well, we had a rare hoolie.

I can mind leaving the front door open to welcome in the New Year,

you know? And I left the back door open as well

so that I could nip out to the coal scuttle for a ride.

See, I could hear all my friends in the lobby singing

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,"

so I just put my Charlie right out my head and got fired right in

amongst it with big Cafferty, the conscientious objector, you know?

Aye, Cafferty went to war on me that night, all guns blazing.

And when the bells chimed, it was out with the old,

and off with the drawers, and in with the new.

I suppose you could call big Cafferty my first-foot

because my Charlie only had a baldy half-incher.

Right, now, thanks very much, Betty.

Now we're going back to Princes Street.

Not long now, folks.

The clock is ticking, the build-up to the bells,

when we take a leap into the brand-new year.

We'd better put the children to bed first. Their time will come.

In Scotland, of course,

they have another word for it - they call it Hogmanay.

Everyone except the children sees the New Year in.

It's an old Scottish custom to see the New Year in

with joy unrestrained.

Did you know Scotland invented the countdown?

In 16-oatcake when James VI of Scotland

counted down to become James I of England(!)

Anyway, counting's easy, isn't it?

One thing about the countdown is sometimes I get

so stressed out by the counting.

Ten, nine, eight... Er...

Ten, nine, eight!

One time I restarted.

Six, five, four...

-TOGETHER:

-Three, two, one!

CHEERING

BELL CHIMES

-Happy New Year!

-Happy New Year!

-Happy New Year!

EVERYONE FALLS SILENT

So...

-It's flew in, hasn't it?

-Yeah.

-Aye.

-Any New Year's resolutions?

-Nah.

-Nah. You?

-No.

-When yous all heading back to work?

-THEY START TO SPEAK

And that's that.

We've got our awkward conversations to greet the New Year.

For the rest of the planet, it's a cavalcade of customs.

Feliz ano nuevo, Espana!

In Spain, a fruity celebration involves gubbing a grape

for every bong of the bells to keep you sweet for the next 12 months.

Far healthier than the traditional 12 slugs of tonic wine.

Godt nytar to Denmark, where it's good luck

to smash crockery on your neighbour's doorstep.

Perfect for getting rid of that bogging plate you got for Christmas.

And on to the USA to say happy New Year

to "Noo Yoik", a place where they're waiting on something big going down.

The ball drop, which I've never quite understood, to be honest.

IN NEW YORK ACCENT: What's not to understand?!

The massive glittery orb drops down, already!

The ball drop is a thing that's just waiting to not work.

You know, you just wait for that year where it just jams at four.

Gravity is gravity, I don't... You know. You can celebrate it

or don't celebrate it, it's going to happen, do you know what I mean?

The ball drop was originally a way to let ships set their instruments.

You could slag gravity off to its face, say things about its mum.

It's not going to stop being gravity. I don't understand why we need to celebrate it.

Tradition was born when the New York Times Building stuck one

on its roof in 1907. Today, millions watch it on TV.

Thousands throng the streets to see the anticlimax in person.

The ball drop caught on all over America,

and they've passed it from coast to coast.

Each big drop allows different states to promote themselves

and their produce - that means pickles, possums, potatoes

and even racing cars get slowly lowered while the crowd goes wild.

And in Florida, they get ten out of ten for thinking outside the box.

I give you the planet's most fabulous queen of the New Year.

In Florida, they drop a drag queen in a giant stiletto shoe,

which I love.

The Sunshine State's gay community have been dropping the red shoe

for 20 years in their own unique nod to the iconic ball drop.

I'm sure I saw Stanley Baxter doing that

routine in the Edinburgh King's when I was a kid.

And now feliz ano novo to Brazil,

where the girls and boys from Ipanema enjoy

a more superstitious and fashion-conscious celebration.

MUSIC: The Girl From Ipanema by Frank Sinatra

Everybody dresses in these gorgeous white linen outfits.

They go down to the seashore at midnight

and then they throw gifts to the sea god.

Fling, erm, into the water, and it's important that they don't come back,

cos if they come back, that's it, your whole year's knackered.

So one mistimed throw, it's like the end of your year.

It's all very well, if you're in Brazil, of course you're going to

worship the sea goddess, it's beautiful down on the beach there.

You know, I challenge them to come to Troon with an ice cream

and getting lashed by Bank Holiday waves.

You're not going to worship anyone, are you?

Unless you worship the god of sleet.

What about the god of snogs?

It's felice anno nuovo to the smoochers of Venice.

This is Venice's New Year's kissathon,

a winchfest promoting the city as the world's most romantic.

It's a mass tribute to tonsil hockey.

Think of the chapped lips if you were doing that in George Square.

Freezing, slobbery mouths.

MUSIC: Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer

There's a few folk just doing wee sneaky looks at the camera

as well, like, "Are you getting this? Are you?"

I've definitely had a few New Year kisses!

-IMITATES KISSING

-C'mere, you.

I've been waitin' all year for this.

So there's some things we all share,

some things we'd run a mile from, but one thing we all join in with.

# Should auld acquaint...? #

-HE WHISTLES

-Auld Lang Syne time, come on.

# Should auld acquaintance...

# Be forgot and never brought to mind? #

OVERLAPPING SINGING

# For auld lang syne...

-QUICKLY:

-# For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne...

# We'll tak' a cup o' kindness, dear, for auld lang syne. #

-Is that right?

-No.

No? OK, there you go, then.

I always cry at Auld Lang Syne, you know?

The words mean so much, you know,

and it's always about who you're with, I suppose,

and it's just always an emotional time.

There's something about that moment, just after the bells, you know,

when you all join hands and you sing it

and it's a really fantastic moment.

And you're linked to every New Year party you ever had

since you remember New Year parties and every...

all the grown-ups singing Auld Lang Syne and you, you know,

holding hands and surrounded by big people

who are singing Auld Lang Syne. It's a magical, magical moment.

There is that, Alex.

TEARFULLY: Speak for all of us.

Sorry, where are we? I'll be OK in a moment.

# Should auld acquaintance be forgot and, er...

# ..Auld lang syne! #

Midnight's fast approaching.

All over the planet, they salute 12 bells

with a riot of fireworks.

OK, they look good.

If that was going on in your garden, you wouldn't shut your curtains.

But with these displays they make you stand a safe distance away.

Only in Scotland does "firework" actually mean you work the fire.

Check out these daredevils.

All hail the swingers of Stonehaven!

Stonehaven, flaming balls.

I don't think the phrase "flaming balls" and Hogmanay

is something you want to associate.

I mean, you do meet strangers and things happen,

but if you're waking up the next day talking about the flaming balls,

time to go to the doctor.

There's this school of thought that our Hogmanay is very much

based on this Pagan Viking celebration.

The Vikings aren't only associated with our fire festivals.

So now the folks go off to first-foot their friends,

a prime call in the New Year

with salutations and, of course, celebrations.

We're a superstitious nation, touch wood.

KNOCKING Gonnae get that?

Happy New Year. Tall, dark, handsome, first-foot.

Can I come and all? I'm his pal.

I love first-footing.

I love that whole thing of coming round with a lump of coal,

something to eat, and a wee drink,

because that's like a kind of microcosm

of what you want to happen for the coming year, you know?

Plenty of heat, plenty to eat, and plenty to drink.

First-footing, that was a very, very important thing.

The first person through your door after midnight needs to be

a kind of tall, dark stranger.

I'm tall, dark, and you're not going to get much stranger, are you?

Well, I'll bring a little bit of good luck

because I'm a short, dark stranger.

People say that the alternative is somebody with long blond hair

and an axe, ie, a Viking raider.

They must bring coal and they must have dark hair,

so it was always my friend Eilidh across the road,

so she would always do that.

It had to be a man.

It's bad luck if it's a woman that comes? That's terrible.

Oh, no, that's what... That's what I've been doing wrong.

That's 45 years I've had bad luck.

From now, from this year, Eilidh... That's her.

Never again will she darken my door at five past 12.

It was really hard when you went into somebody's house

and they looked at you and went, "Oh, no, not you."

My mother said, "Right, Dorothy's coming after the bells

"with her new boyfriend so that'll be fine."

Knocked on the door, my mother opened it,

-and she went, "Oh, come in."

-FORCED LAUGHTER

She turned to my faither, "The bugger's got red hair."

FAST GIBBERISH

In the past, strangers could just go in and out of people's houses.

Everybody should just, this Hogmanay,

get your doors unlocked, right?

Get the windows open, get the lights on, get the windows open,

just shout at strangers, "Come in." Whatever.

I don't think you need the lights on to invite people in.

-I think you could...

-How do they see? How do they see?

You just go to your window and just open it up a wee bit

and go like, "Mate, mate...

"Come here, c'mon in."

People would go for that. "In yous come.

"C'mon. Wee party in the dark."

Fair play to you, Iain,

for trying to pioneer an alternative Hogmanay ritual,

or maybe it's an old Burnistoun custom.

The point is, we all love to party like there's no tomorrow.

Morning. How are you?

GROANING

What... What time is it?

-Er... Back of 11.

-Oh.

What...

CUTLERY RATTLING

What day is it?

It's New Year's Day.

What year?

We had a party. Do you not remember?

Oh, no. Have you seen my car keys?

What car?

My BMW in the drive there.

Oh, that car, aye.

The one you lost in the card game?

What... What-what card game?

-Do you no' remember?

-No.

Big Eddie had a full house.

And what did I have?

Mrs Bun the Baker's Wife.

Oh, my God.

I don't, I don't believe... I don't...

Here, wait a minute.

This isnae my house.

No, this is my house. Do you no' remember?

Your house burnt doon,

just after you set off the fireworks

and after you told me you hadn't any insurance

and just before the fire brigade arrived and ran over your dug.

Oh, no, I cannae believe all that.

Oh, come on, come on.

Look on the bright side - look what you won in the raffle.

Ugh, it's the morning after the night before.

Celebrations are still ringing in your ears.

How do you clear your head?

Back to Italia, where they answer the age-old question,

"If I jumped off a bridge, would you do it?"

Seven for the technique,

eight for the hair,

nine for the Speedos,

and a perfect ten for doing a high dive like this

while sooking in your stomach.

In the USA, there's the Polar Bear Club,

which is a kind of winter swimming thing.

And Russia's hardy souls cut holes in the ice.

Loony behaviour?

THIS is loony behaviour.

The great Queensferry Loony Dook.

Bracing and practical - with the bridge shut,

it's the quickest way across the Forth.

I get the idea of cleansing.

A fresh start, I mean,

that's kind of, I guess, what New Year should be about.

I cannot, for the life of me, understand why the hell you would

want to run out in your underpants and jump into freezing water.

There's always one guy that's like, "I'm into this."

He's probably the most into it when you get to the beach.

"I'm into this. We're diving into the water!

"This is going to be amazing.

"Go!" He never jumps in.

No danger.

But if you're still chasing extreme thrills,

there is one ultimate destination to exorcise your New Year demons.

The one place on Earth that they're still having a ba'.

Time to say happy New Year to the hardy folk of Orkney

and get stuck into the ba' game.

Let's play ba'.

The game's been going for over 100 years.

The streets are shut, the town becomes the pitch,

and Kirkwall is split into twa teams.

The Uppies need to get the ba' to a wall in the south,

the Doonies have to get it to the harbour.

How's that for a ba' drop? Eat your heart out, Times Square.

And the rule book has one rule in it -

there are no rules.

The game lasts eight hours and, as for injury time,

it's all injury time.

That is just like a big... a big melee, to be honest.

I don't have the endurance for it.

I don't know what formation they're playing.

It'll be 60-20-20, won't it?

The wing-backs pushing forward.

500 in the front line and then maybe one.

-That's naive.

-Just get everyone in there.

Some people are on the pitch!

They think it's all over, it is now.

And it's nice to know that on the first of January

the first foot you're going to get is a boot in the nadgers.

Scotland - Hogmanay world champions.

And there you have it, folks.

We've shone a light on how the world celebrates New Year,

traditions old and new.

Maybe there's a universal truth in there.

We're all just looking for love.

Or food. Or strong drink.

Or a square go, or all of the above.

But wherever you're at on the planet this Hogmanay, have a good yin.

Resolutions?

I'm going to eat exclusively Wham bars and Pot Noodles.

I'm going to be the first person in the New Year

to blow a raspberry, ken?

Ken, one of them.

"Good for you. Good for you. That's a great idea.

"Oh, that's... It's not going to be easy but you'll do it.

"I know you'll do it."

Resolutions?

I kind of want to dress as a bear now and set fire to stuff.

If you want something different, the world is your oyster,

but there's nothing like coming home, friends, family.

That's what it's about.

Anyone I know that comes to Scotland will say,

"Oh, you guys know how to do Hogmanay.

"You guys know how to do New Year's Eve, don't you?"

Because we do do it very, very well.

At the heart of it, there are more things I think that unite us

and, just in that moment, nothing else matters.

Suddenly, we're all Scottish.

Well, I'll leave you with this thought.

Look to your fellow man, your neighbour. Love him and trust him.

He will not fail you, and together

you will go forward to a bigger, better, brighter future

than ever before.

If you can believe that,

you can believe anything.

-Six, four, three, two, one, happy...

-BLOWS RASPBERRY

Happy New Year...

CHEERING, BELLS