When a friend who works in catering asked me if I would be willing to talk to Gérard Depardieu about haggis, Gaelic poetry and other such matters, I was intrigued. I agreed and was then contacted by the Frenchman's production manager, who was filming Depardieu and his own personal chef, Laurent Audiot, in a documentary about the cuisine of the Scottish Highlands – specifically Skye, where I live.

Filming was to take place in the bar of Hotel Eilean Iarmain in Sleat, southern Skye, the idea being that the boys would ask me questions about Gaelic culture and poetry (my line of work) as we addressed and then attacked a haggis.

Gerard Depardieu in Skye Photograph: Rob Ware

Depardieu arrived last Friday. You can hardly miss him. He is a kenspeckled figure, about seven feet tall with a proportionate corporation, or so it seemed to me, sitting opposite him at a small table. He was fashionably late – had there been an unmanageable tantrum? No, said his production manager, he and Audiot had both fallen asleep after lunch. When he finally arrived, it was not, as I had anticipated, by helicopter on the lawn of the local laird's house (not an uncommon occurrence), but in what may have been a Ford Fiesta.

He emerged from this vehicle in an extraordinarily large trouser ensemble, with open-neck shirt and sleeveless jacket, none of which gave me a sense of haute couture. He seemed a regular sort of bloke, given to constant talk and frequent shouting, if not roaring. He likes his liquor, too. I had envisaged some awkwardness on my part if the subject of wine, with which I presumed he was familiar, came up. Not a bit of it: he downed bogstandard lager, the local ale (which is recommended for haggis), and large 21-year-old whiskies to beat the band. He didn't seem particularly drunk, or at least no more so than anybody else. He is a naturally exuberant man.

Gerard Depardieu in Skye Photograph: Rob Ware

I was informed by the hotel management that not only would the French crew get their haggis and Gaelic poetry but also a presentation, eminently practical, about the local whiskies: Tè Bheag, Mac na Mara and Poit Dhubh. There would also be a Gaelic song and a bagpipe tune. When my turn came, I was placed opposite Depardieu with pints and drams and asked questions in French that were translated into English simultaneously – but barely audibly – via an earpiece. I answered as best I could. The crew's animated description to me of a French variation on haggis communicated as much to me as, I'm guessing, the Gaelic address to the haggis I'd written for the occasion conveyed to them. I might as well have read it in Swahili.

"What is Ga-leek?" asked Depardieu. "Ow is it different from English?" I made some boring answer. He seemed surprised to hear that there was a Celtic language in France, namely Breton. "Oh, is that Ga-leek?" he said. "No," I replied, "it's Celtic."

Gerard Depardieu in Skye Photograph: Rob Ware

When the plump haggis arrived, in the middle of my recital, I pierced its skin. Depardieu took the knife off me and attacked it – and I mean attacked it. His assault on this dead sheep, cutting it up with great vigour into three large chunks to begin with, seemed like the channelling of some ancient ritual. Or maybe that's just how he addresses all food presented to him. "Délicieux!" pronounced he and Audiot, licking their lips.

He's a big man in every sense and, as there was too much haggis even for him, it was soon circulated around the bar. I told them the Gaelic expression for "help yourself", which translates as "a long arm and permission to extend it". They were impressed.

As they described their day's culinary peregrinations (hunting for deer and fishing for salmon, all very Jacobite), I taught them how to say slàinte mhòr, Gaelic for cheers or great health. Depardieu's rendering was quite plausible, better than many an inveterate learner of the tongue. He kept saying it and the whole crew joined in. At that point, a local who takes photographs of Sleat for its tourist website, dropped in for a pint. He said the man being filming reminded him a lot of that French actor – Gerad Déportée, is it?

Gerard Depardieu in Skye Photograph: Rob Ware

Our piper, Decker Forrest, is a sublime musician but his playing was too much for the acoustics of a small bar occupied by regular punters, staff and a large film crew. Monsieur Déportée was happy to abandon his seat – no, his seats – and listen to the piping out at the adjacent pier. "This is one of the most beautiful views I've ever seen," he said, looking out across the bay to the lighthouse framed by the mountains of Knoydart on the other side of the water. I guess he's seen a lot of fine places and could say the same about them all, but he did seem to be a man who calls a pomme de terre a pomme de terre and doesn't give a damn what people think.

I suspect Depardieu makes a large impact wherever he goes. He shook everyone's hand and was piped out of the bar at nine o'clock, calling out for fresh scallops as he went.

Rody Gorman's address – a translation into English of the Gaelic version of Robert Burns's Tae a Haggis

Your cheekface is beautiful, kind and weepsoft,

The choice of clanchildren and menpersons,

Above any other food you're in our carethoughts,

Friendly claychainsaddleguts,

You're huntworth an articulateblessing as long as my spinningarms.

You netfill the big trencherplate up tidefull,

Your macethighrump is like a faraway fat ass wisdomhill,

Your bodkinprickleskewer would set menpeople in dire straits

Coursetwistmending a mill

And through your skin the drizzledew slimesoakswims

Like purebrightclear amber.

Gerard Depardieu in Skye Photograph: Rob Ware

Gorman's own address

Is ged a bhiodh do bhrù gu bhith sgàinte

Ged nach do ghabh thu fiù 's do theann is do leòr,

Nach gabh thu tè-bheag no dhà mar dheoch-slàinte

Don Mharaig seo againn. Shin sibh! Slàinte mhòr!

(And even if your bulgebelly's about to Sconeburst

Even though you haven't had your tightfill or your that's enough,

Have a wee little one of Tè Bheag or two

And drink the health to our Marag. There you go! Slàinte mhòr!)

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