Ever Answer Public Telephones When They Ring?

Do you ever answer public telephones when they ring?

Yesterday in Glasgow’s South Side,
Anna and me were waiting on the train at Crossmyloof station when the phone on the wall rang.

Me, I pretty much always answer public phones if they start ringing in the hope of getting myself getting caught up in some sort of “Phonebooth” scenario just like Colin Farrell.

Turns out I wasn’t too far off this time because when I picked the phone up a high pitched voice said:

“I’m on top of the building behind you.
I have a sniper trained on the back of your fucking head”.

So there’s me looking at the building behind me when the voice says:
“Would you like to touch my penis?”

I was busy laughing and repeating what the voice was saying aloud to Anna and two other women who were sitting beside us when it then says:

“Don’t you dare get on that train.
There are people on the way to smash your fucking face with baseball bats”.

Ha Ha!
Kids today eh?
The cheeky wee scamps.

I’m off to see if I’m on youtube.

Some Photos From Largs…

Me & Anna went to Largs a couple of weeks ago and I forgot to put the photos up.
Here are some of them:

You can’t tell but that seagull was about the size of a car!

The rest of the photos are on my Facebook because I fell out with Flickr.

‘Twas a smashing day!

Glasgow’s Clockwork Orange?

Last week an American feller asked me where he could find an all night blues bar in Glasgow and I had to tell them there wasn’t one.

I was gonna point him down to the The Scotia Bar where the blues and booze goes all the way into the morning.
But then I remembered that Bellhaven took over that bar a few years ago and all the old blues guys stopped going.
Then I remembered that that was why I stopped going.

It’s sometimes embarrassing because in New York these places are ten a penny.
Okay, a dozen a dime.

Really I’m just embarrassed at having to tell people that unlike New Yawk City,
There comes a time at night when Glasgow shuts down.

The city that goes to sleep when it’s bedtime.

Most American tourists follow that up with:
“But it’s Saturday night!”

The tourists in work tend to ask about trains and transport.
The Underground.
The Subway.

Glasgow’s Clockwork Orange“.

I really like that name.
It’s affectionate but it’s only a name because:
(a) Who actually calls it “The Clockwork Orange”?
(b) Although the tracks go around in small circles and the trains (With the exception of all of the cream coloured ones) are all painted orange,
It very rarely runs like clockwork.

Trains never do though do they?

But aye!
Aye they do!

I heard a group from Berlin taking the piss out of the Glasgow subway a few days ago and they were quite right.

They couldn’t believe that it closes down at 6pm every Sunday and get this!
They laughed about the fact that you had to queue up in a line for a ticket and pay for it using actual money instead of a card with a chip in it.

A part of me thinks:
“Well go back to fucking Berlin then” but a bigger part of me is just embarrassed because they’re right.
And they are right.

Are they?

They probably are.

P.S. Remember that guy who raced the Subway trains on his bike?

I liked that.

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