MY abiding memory of Mr Bean is of him birling round his kitchen in a jagged waltz trying to extricate his head from the cavity of a dead, plucked turkey.

Now, you'd think it would be tricky to form a grammatically flawless sentence with your coupon taking over the role of the sage and onion but, apparently, it can be done. Or, at least, it can be done to the level needed to teach a foreigner our beautiful, flexible language.

Researchers, for there is no subject too woolly not to be prodded by researchers, have found nearly one-quarter of English as a Second Language (ESL) tutors teach their students English by showing them Mr Bean episodes. The gentleman is largely silent but apparently useful at showing common and garden everyday tasks such as going to the dentist, eating out in restaurants and sitting exams, making him perfect for showcasing basic vocabulary and grammar.

A full 60% of ESL teachers use TV shows to enhance their lessons and give pupils a broader understanding of the English language. While Mr Bean is the most popular show, Eastenders was also listed as useful to 3% of teachers.

This begs the question: if Scotland parts ways with England and Scottish – as it surely must – becomes our official mither tongue, with what resources will we teach the difference between a tatty and totty to the foreigners?

In place of Mr Bean and Eastenders, Rab C Nesbitt and River City will be used in classrooms and libraries to demonstrate to the new emigrated life in Scotland.

In River City everyday tasks such as going doon The Tall Ship for a bevvie, a brew not to be confused with the broo, will be neatly showcased. The fraught world of bar-room etiquette will be learned: be sure to offer wan fur yersel' to the barman while you're getting blootered; if you're lucky enough to secure a romantic evening with a native Scots speaker make certain your ex-wife, lovechild or sister's husband – the one you had an affair with – aren't going to be down the local; learn how to lamp any gomerals in the face while making a lowp for the door.

The Govan philosopher will offer a sartorial guide to gentlemen's fashions, gutties and string vests, and cover diverse topics from Neo Nazis to STDs, all with a black humour best adopted pronto by the new Scottish speaker.

Taggart is probably best avoided, at least until the new emigree finds his or her feet after they flit.

Moving north, Monarch of the Glen and Hamish MacBeth reruns will aid the new Scottish speaker who fancies a quieter life away from the drama of the city or who just fancies a Glenbogle-style jaunt. MacBeth and his trusty sidekick Wee Jock will act as a reassuring counter to the bangsters of Taggart.

Come to think of it, Scottish television maybe isn't the best first impression we can give the foreigners. Or perhaps it is ... as a filtering mechanism, say. Surviving an episode of The High Life should sort the useless fae the yable.