I was sitting on the train last Thursday morning when I felt the need to eavesdrop on the most tedious conversation between a couple who just noticed each other and she had forced her way through the crowd to talk to the guy.
"Ye up tae?" he said.
"I'm just going to work" she said nodding with pursed lips as if resigned to her day.
"Aye?" he said.
"Yeah" she said with pursed lips.
"Been up tae?" he enquired.
"Nothing much, just working away, you know", she said nodding with pursed lips as if resigned to the fact her life is crap.
"Goat plans fir the weekend?" he said.
"Nothing much" she said, still nodding with pursed lips. And there it ended. They both nodded a little, then stopped. Then one of them felt the need to break eye contact and looked at a spot out the window.
The silence were excruciating. I felt like saying to them just to make something up to make it more interesting than this shite.
Sunday, 7 September 2008
Laugh? I Nearly Pissed Myself
I was at a show in Glasgow a few months ago to see the comedian Rich Hall. It was in the Garage nightclub and like the comedy club they shut the bleedin' bar while the act was on.
I was only about 4 rows from the front and at one point I disappeared through the heavy curtain they had up to go to the bar and was amazed at my luck because of how empty it was. Very empty. Empty. The barman told me "bar's closed". Bugger. I had to walk back through the curtains and back to my seat. A lonely figure with my empty pint glass. At the interval my brother and I got a couple of pints each and some Bacardi Breezers for the women, as that's the only thing we could stuff into our trouser pockets.
Rich Hall was very good. So glad I never sat in the front row though. There was one woman who was there with an empty seat beside her and had her and her daughter's jackets piled on it. Rich asked who the empty seat was for as there had been nobody sitting in it after 30 minutes after the show had begun.
"It's for my husband"
"Well where the fuck is he, in the toilet?". Laughter.
"No, he's dead"
"He's dead?". Silence. Rich stood still, looking down at her with a slight look of what the fuck do I say now?
"Yes"
"And the seat?"
"I like to keep a space for him"
There was another unfortunate woman in the front row who had her life torn apart for any nugget of information that could be ridiculed, and it was. She had some trouble containing her laughter and was roaring louder than anyone else. After the barrage of abuse stopped she took her chance to have a break. she stood up and walked off towards the curtain, and spoke to a member of staff who directed her to the toilets.
The curtain itself hung about 6 inches off the floor and the light from the bar area caused a shiny area on the floor at the angle I was seeing it from.
As this woman walked off I was aware of something spattering on the wooden floor, and realised there was something dripping on the floor. Christ did I forget about the guy on stage. I stared.
As she was walking away from this person, all I could see was the liquid splattering on the floor. As she walked it followed her. I couldn't believe my fucking eyes.
As she walked it came in more of a rush so there was quite a pool created on the floor. Imagine if you will a half pint just emptied straight on the floor.
I looked around quickly and people in front of me seemed oblivious to this and even she seemed oblivious to the fact she was pissing all over the floor at the front of a 300 strong audience. She showed no signs of embarrassment or trying to disguise the fact.
She came back to her seat a few minutes later and walked right past the new lake on the floor, which remained there for the rest of the show and was even spread around during the interval as a couple of hundred people walked through it to the bar.
I was only about 4 rows from the front and at one point I disappeared through the heavy curtain they had up to go to the bar and was amazed at my luck because of how empty it was. Very empty. Empty. The barman told me "bar's closed". Bugger. I had to walk back through the curtains and back to my seat. A lonely figure with my empty pint glass. At the interval my brother and I got a couple of pints each and some Bacardi Breezers for the women, as that's the only thing we could stuff into our trouser pockets.
Rich Hall was very good. So glad I never sat in the front row though. There was one woman who was there with an empty seat beside her and had her and her daughter's jackets piled on it. Rich asked who the empty seat was for as there had been nobody sitting in it after 30 minutes after the show had begun.
"It's for my husband"
"Well where the fuck is he, in the toilet?". Laughter.
"No, he's dead"
"He's dead?". Silence. Rich stood still, looking down at her with a slight look of what the fuck do I say now?
"Yes"
"And the seat?"
"I like to keep a space for him"
There was another unfortunate woman in the front row who had her life torn apart for any nugget of information that could be ridiculed, and it was. She had some trouble containing her laughter and was roaring louder than anyone else. After the barrage of abuse stopped she took her chance to have a break. she stood up and walked off towards the curtain, and spoke to a member of staff who directed her to the toilets.
The curtain itself hung about 6 inches off the floor and the light from the bar area caused a shiny area on the floor at the angle I was seeing it from.
As this woman walked off I was aware of something spattering on the wooden floor, and realised there was something dripping on the floor. Christ did I forget about the guy on stage. I stared.
As she was walking away from this person, all I could see was the liquid splattering on the floor. As she walked it followed her. I couldn't believe my fucking eyes.
As she walked it came in more of a rush so there was quite a pool created on the floor. Imagine if you will a half pint just emptied straight on the floor.
I looked around quickly and people in front of me seemed oblivious to this and even she seemed oblivious to the fact she was pissing all over the floor at the front of a 300 strong audience. She showed no signs of embarrassment or trying to disguise the fact.
She came back to her seat a few minutes later and walked right past the new lake on the floor, which remained there for the rest of the show and was even spread around during the interval as a couple of hundred people walked through it to the bar.
Saturday, 6 September 2008
The Uniform Is The Only Style
Recently I was travelling home from work on a Saturday lunchtime on the train about lunchtime.
When I got on the carriage was kind of half full. Opposite me at the other window was a couple sitting across the wee table from each other.
The man was in full Celtic regalia. Celtic shirt, dark green trackie trousers, white trainers. The girl had on white trousers with a silver belt, a thin white hoodie top with a silver design on the back. I could see the back as she was bent forward with her chest against the table edge and her arms hugged around her.
He started whistling some tune and after a very short time I noticed it repeating. It was either a very short song or that's the only bit he knew. I think the latter.
As well as whistling he was singing a line, again the same thing over and over.
"The uniform is the only style.....whistle whistle whistle...the uniform is the only style.....whistle whistle whistle.....". I've Googled this phrase and found nothing on it. I thought it must be some well known song but it seems not. It was a new composition.
He was slouched back in his seat while entertaining the troops with his right foot up on the seat opposite beside his girlfriend. Suddenly he sat up and said to her...
"Shut the fuck up, you fucking invited the cunt intae the hoose, you fucking invited Archie in, don't gie me any o' your shite, shut the fuck up".
He leant back again, and was silent.
I was scared to look across in case I caught his eye and he turned on me, as I had the feeling he may do that.
She was silent.
He then leant across the small table and put his arms around her.
She was crying. She was wiping her eyes. She leant back in her seat which exposed her stretched belly. She was pregnant. About 6 months by the looks of it.
Now that's how to properly court a girl in Glasgow. They probably were still courting. The baby's probably not his.
When I got on the carriage was kind of half full. Opposite me at the other window was a couple sitting across the wee table from each other.
The man was in full Celtic regalia. Celtic shirt, dark green trackie trousers, white trainers. The girl had on white trousers with a silver belt, a thin white hoodie top with a silver design on the back. I could see the back as she was bent forward with her chest against the table edge and her arms hugged around her.
He started whistling some tune and after a very short time I noticed it repeating. It was either a very short song or that's the only bit he knew. I think the latter.
As well as whistling he was singing a line, again the same thing over and over.
"The uniform is the only style.....whistle whistle whistle...the uniform is the only style.....whistle whistle whistle.....". I've Googled this phrase and found nothing on it. I thought it must be some well known song but it seems not. It was a new composition.
He was slouched back in his seat while entertaining the troops with his right foot up on the seat opposite beside his girlfriend. Suddenly he sat up and said to her...
"Shut the fuck up, you fucking invited the cunt intae the hoose, you fucking invited Archie in, don't gie me any o' your shite, shut the fuck up".
He leant back again, and was silent.
I was scared to look across in case I caught his eye and he turned on me, as I had the feeling he may do that.
She was silent.
He then leant across the small table and put his arms around her.
She was crying. She was wiping her eyes. She leant back in her seat which exposed her stretched belly. She was pregnant. About 6 months by the looks of it.
Now that's how to properly court a girl in Glasgow. They probably were still courting. The baby's probably not his.
Friday, 5 September 2008
All Five Wore Tracksuits
I picked up a free paper from the stairwell of my brother's flats in Partick recently, and I can't remember if it was the Glaswegian or not. Usually in these local papers they have little 'news' snippets, strategically placed around the pages to draw your eye to the less interesting parts of the paper. The snippets of news are normally reports of the various crimes that have been committed. There's alot of them.
This week must have been particularly busy as a whole third of a page was dedicated to the various assaults that had taken place at the weekend. I shall repeat them here, for they amuse me a little.
"Gang fighting. 17 year old boy arrested on Dumbarton Road at 1.50am on Friday. The teenager detained was wielding a large piece of wood above his head and had bloodstains on his clothes. When officers tried to arrest him he became violent".
I like to imagine that as the Police closed in, he shouted "c'mon ya bunch of fannies". Here's hoping.
Next up. "A man with two knives hidden in the waistband of his trousers was arrested on the same evening in Apsley Street. As police approached they noticed a black handle sticking out. They found it was a large kitchen knife. The second knife was smaller. The paper quoted the Police "As he was unable to provide an explanation for having the weapons, he was detained".
Really? So if he'd been able to come up with a plausible reason, he'd have been let go? What is the world coming to when the Police will let a man go who has two knives down his trousers just because he told them he was going to help the man in Chapati 3 to carve a particularly large kebab.
And this is the gem.
This week must have been particularly busy as a whole third of a page was dedicated to the various assaults that had taken place at the weekend. I shall repeat them here, for they amuse me a little.
"Gang fighting. 17 year old boy arrested on Dumbarton Road at 1.50am on Friday. The teenager detained was wielding a large piece of wood above his head and had bloodstains on his clothes. When officers tried to arrest him he became violent".
I like to imagine that as the Police closed in, he shouted "c'mon ya bunch of fannies". Here's hoping.
Next up. "A man with two knives hidden in the waistband of his trousers was arrested on the same evening in Apsley Street. As police approached they noticed a black handle sticking out. They found it was a large kitchen knife. The second knife was smaller. The paper quoted the Police "As he was unable to provide an explanation for having the weapons, he was detained".
Really? So if he'd been able to come up with a plausible reason, he'd have been let go? What is the world coming to when the Police will let a man go who has two knives down his trousers just because he told them he was going to help the man in Chapati 3 to carve a particularly large kebab.
And this is the gem.
"Police were hunting five men who attacked and hospitalised a 39 year old man in Partick in mid July".
"The victim was attacked in Fordyce Street just after midnight. He was punched and kicked repeatedly before being knocked unconscious, suffering head injuries. Police say his attackers were white, 16-20 years old and all five wore tracksuits". A direct quote from the Police.
"All five wore tracksuits". That's all you need to know.
Thursday, 4 September 2008
A Wee Bam Ned
This little occurrence was witnessed by a colleague on Tuesday evening in a B&Q store in Clydebank. He described the subject as a "wee bam ned" and being from Faifley himself he was more than acquanited with this type. His opinion not mine.
This wee bam ned was at the paint mixing desk and said to the girl behind it in his endearing Glaswegian dialect.
"Haw, whits that pure chocolate chip colour I waant mixed up fur me? That wan rer" he said pointing.
She couldn't figure out which colour he meant so he leant across the counter whining and pointing "That wan rer.....rer...cun ye see it?"
He leant back and stood up and to his horror realised the edge of the paint desk he has just leaned across was covered in.......paint.
He stepped back, arms out, looking down at himself.
"Aw naw, shite man, ya pure bastard". There was a straight line of white across his crotch of his dark blue trackies. Lacoste, Adidas, Nike.....doesn't matter.
"Fuck man, fuck man, ma new trackies man. Ther pure pentit". He had the pockets of his tracksuit in his fingertips pulling them out to the side, maybe trying to prevent anymore of his tracksuit becoming contaminated with the paint, but it only seemed to push his painted crotch forward.
New tracksuit. What a happy day.
for our non-Scottish visitors again, see here for definition of "bam"
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=bam
This wee bam ned was at the paint mixing desk and said to the girl behind it in his endearing Glaswegian dialect.
"Haw, whits that pure chocolate chip colour I waant mixed up fur me? That wan rer" he said pointing.
She couldn't figure out which colour he meant so he leant across the counter whining and pointing "That wan rer.....rer...cun ye see it?"
He leant back and stood up and to his horror realised the edge of the paint desk he has just leaned across was covered in.......paint.
He stepped back, arms out, looking down at himself.
"Aw naw, shite man, ya pure bastard". There was a straight line of white across his crotch of his dark blue trackies. Lacoste, Adidas, Nike.....doesn't matter.
"Fuck man, fuck man, ma new trackies man. Ther pure pentit". He had the pockets of his tracksuit in his fingertips pulling them out to the side, maybe trying to prevent anymore of his tracksuit becoming contaminated with the paint, but it only seemed to push his painted crotch forward.
New tracksuit. What a happy day.
for our non-Scottish visitors again, see here for definition of "bam"
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=bam
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