I Only Want To Shag You

Many many years ago me and my pals used to frequent a pub in Finnieston several nights each week. We got to be regulars without living anywhere near it. There was a reason we were in the area and we always finished up our night with a few pints in this pub. It wasn't a flash pub, but it was a sight better than some of the shiteholes around it. One of them had linoleum and metal tables from the 70s. We stayed out of there.

In "our" pub there was a man. He became our pal. We liked him. He liked us. I'll call him Jimmy.
We bought rounds for each other. Jimmy more so than us. He insisted on getting the rounds in. It was sometimes difficult to get your own drink in. He was a pensioner, but he seemed to have endless money for our drinks.

He would sit at his usual seat in the corner right beside the bar and shout "GAS !". This stood for Gin And Soda. The barmaid would promptly bring over the drinks.

One night my pal was up from London and he came out with us. There was a group of around seven of us and that particular night we were supposed to be getting to stay overnight in a church hall for some kind of religious thing that some of my friends had a connection with.  It was a night vigil or something. Five of the group had a direct involvement and me and my pal from London were told to just come along ..... "It'll be alright."

So after the pub we all went along for this wee sleepover in a church. At the door me and my pal from London were turned away, even though we were with the others and the woman at the door took offence to the fact that we'd had a few pints and told us we couldn't come in.

Later on my pal ended up back at the pub on his own, having a drink and then went to get a taxi.

Jimmy said he would get him a taxi from the taxi rank round the corner. So they both went out the door of the pub. My pal asked where the taxi rank was and Jimmy led him off Argyle Street onto a side street saying there was a taxi rank just round there.

As they walked round my pal could see there was no taxi rank and no taxi cab company anywhere so started walking back to the main road. Jimmy followed him closely and kept telling him that he'd get him a taxi. My pal was walking up and down the road, mostly to try to shake off Jimmy as he was starting to piss him off, but Jimmy kept following him.  Very closely.

This went on for a few minutes and Jimmy stayed right beside my pal and he got to the end of his tether and eventually just said to Jimmy...

"Look what the fuck is going on here?"

"I only want to shag you," said Jimmy.

My pal recounted this incident to me early on the Sunday morning when he turned up at my door and asked if he could have a word. As soon as he said that Jimmy had asked to shag him I realised I should have told him he was probably gay, but I hadn't thought there was any need to. My pal was a bit surprised that I knew already. So I explained to him.

For the year that we'd been going to the pub, Jimmy had been kicking me under the table and catching my eye. After kicking me I'd say "What is it?" and he'd shake his head and look away. Out of the whole group he'd only tap me under the table, no-one else. This went on for a few months and my pals noticed that when I went to the toilet Jimmy would make a point of getting up after me and going to. I usually went into the cubicle so I never noticed.

One night though I was standing against the wall peeing and Jimmy came in and wrapped his arms around me, clasping his hands across my stomach...my stomach thank God.

I froze. I pushed my elbows out and broke his grasp and asked him what he was doing and he said nothing and went to pee, so I went out. From that time on, I would never pee in there again. I used to go out of the pub to a lane across the road, but my mates still noticed that after I stood up, he stood up.

He never said anything blatant to me, but that incident in the toilet confirmed it to me. He probably wanted to shag me too.

The Day A White Tracksuit Kicked My Head In

Around eight years ago I had been out on a works night out in Glasgow city centre. I was having trouble getting a taxi and decided to walk a bit into Partick to try again for a taxi. Just beyond Charing Cross on Argyle Street, I was heading through Finnieston. I ended up walking along beside a young couple, who were visible in the dark evening in their white tracksuits, white trainers and white caps.

God knows why but I started talking to them. I don't know why. I was drunk. I don't really know what I said to them. I was drunk.

At the bend in the road where the Police Station is they both turned right and walked off up a side street. I meandered happily along. About thirty seconds later, they both appeared in front of me. They had gone round the whole block and come out ahead of me.

Slight confusion on my part. Why were they now walking back? Why did they go round a whole block to appear in front of me.

I saw the look on the guy's face. He was striding very determinedly towards me. It took about two seconds for me to realise he was going to set about me. Even before he ran, I ran.

I turned and ran as fast as I could, but.....I was drunk.

I got halfway across the road then he was on me. I don't know if he kicked or pushed me but I went down right in the centre of the road, about thirty metres from the front door of the police station. I balled up into a foetal position with my hands up at my face.

He just started kicking me on the back, the head, round the front to the face. I'm grateful now that my glasses came off quickly or I'd have had them broken into my face. I found them the next day at the side of the road. He just kept kicking me and kicking me. At one point I looked up and saw his girlfriend just standing there watching.

I don't remember feeling much pain, just the thuds of his feet against my head. I was lying there beginning to think how ridiculous this all was. I'd probably said something to annoy him and he does this.

I started shouting at him;

"Gonnae stop that, come on, that's enough, alright alright I give in, for chrissakes."

While it might sound cowardly and a bit childish all I was thinking was how weird this was. It didn't feel like a serious assault, I wasn't feeling any pain. But he kept kicking me. It went on for over a minute I think and suddenly he just stopped and ran off.

I looked up and saw two women at the side of the road who had shouted at him. They kindly took me into their flat close by so I could get off the street and phone a taxi. I went into their bathroom to survey the damage and my face was grazed, bleeding in places and I had a large gash above my right eye. Suddenly the bathroom door opened and a man was standing there staring at me.

"Hello,"  I said with my face spattered with blood. And he closed the door. He'd heard a male voice in the flat and wondered what was going on.

I phoned my wife and explained I'd be a little delayed but I was just waiting on a taxi.

"Don't worry but I've had a bit of a kicking."  Was she pleased with me.

The next day I managed to get into work for 7am despite having been drunk and assaulted the night before. After work I went into Finnieston Police Station to report the assault, more for their stats rather than for any serious attempt at trying catch the guy. The officer at the desk asked why I hadn't reported it the night before seeing as I was only across the road and then as I was giving the description of my attacker and listing his white tracksuit and white cap, the policeman actually laughed. And from then on I could see he'd lost interest and was just really ticking the rest of the boxes.

So that was my only kicking and I've been trying to avoid a repeat occurrence ever since.

Would You Like a Brick With That?

The neds round my way are getting more vicious as they are all over the place. My street is used as a thorough fare between two particular areas, and the neds from each place don't appear to like each other too much. On Friday and Saturday nights we can hear banging, shouting and screaming going past. I've had my cars keyed a couple of times and vandalised more but the incident that happened recently was the worst by far.

A neighbour had come back from the town on the train about 10pm and was walking back home. The route dictates that you have to walk through either one of two tunnels, which is invariably where a bunch of neds hang out. It's pot luck whichever route you choose from the station as the streets go in a circuitous route back to the same point where you must go through these tunnels to get to our street. If you see one tunnel is blocked you might have a long walk back to the station to go back again through the other just to avoid them.

A few months ago a guy walking his young daughter back from school had to walk through the tunnel and past a group of neds. He asked them to stop swearing because of his daughter. They beat him to the ground and kicked his head in. He was an off duty Police Officer.

I've been beaten down and kicked in the head before. Luckily the offender was wearing his white trainers which were relatively soft when hitting my skull. They matched his all white tracksuit. The policeman actually laughed when I gave him that description. That was in Finnieston.

My neighbour isn't frightened of them so he walked straight through this group of about eight males/females, about 15-18 years old. And there the games began.

"Whit you lookin at?" said one guy.
"Nothing, pal."

"Whit'll ye dae if I punch you?", said a wee lassie, which she promptly did, right to the side of his head.

"What'll you do if I do that to you?" he asked back.

At which point they started to surround him. He got off his mark. He might not be scared but he's not stupid. Eight wee psycho neds against one. They chased him the couple of hundred yards past his house and got round him on all sides.

The slab of concrete they threw first just missed his head. I found it later beside my car, happy it wasn't on my car. It was about 18 inches long, 3 inches deep, by 7 inches wide with a metal rod sticking out both ends.

Next came the brick. Straight in his face, and he went down. We heard screaming outside and by the time we looked out we just saw his wife run past. She told us she'd gone round the corner and they'd run off. His legs were like jelly so she had to drag him back to the house.

As I was standing outside later talking to a guy who'd seen it all, he commented that one of them was coming past again, but that he'd changed his top to avoid identification by the Police. A Police van turned up, seemingly spoke to the group, were given details of the change of clothes, but appear to have made no arrests at all.

The neds have some nerve. They've just smashed someone in the head with a brick, the Police are there and they're still wandering about.

And the icing on the cake, as they passed his 15 year old girlfriend enquired of me,

"Whit are you staring at you cunt?"

I said nothing to her. No respect or decency at all. Tch tch.

I'm going out this Saturday night. Let's see if I make it home.