Thankfully I no longer work in Maryhill. So that means that I don't need to get the number 40 bus. On Saturday however I found myself on a particularly packed 40. Unsurprisngly a rumpus started at the front. A passenger objected to having to push his way through the standees in order to get off. He made his objections known to the bus driver.
"Have I to just let folk wait on the next bus so you're not inconvenienced pal?"
"You're a prick of a bus driver."
"I'll come out this cab and punch your head in."
"Come on then get off the bus and I'll do you."
The passenger got off, closely followed by the bus driver.
"I'll fucking have you..."
He was then held back by another passenger.
"Leave it mate! He's not worth it."
You haven't ridden public transport until your driver's left the bus to assault a passenger.
Yesterday was of course St Patrick's Day. If there's one thing Glasgow doesn't need it's a night exclusively devoted to bams. I was walking up Argyle Street when I spotted a guy and a girl in a war of words with another guy.
The first guy getting ready for a scrap made to take off not his jacket, but his St Patrick's Day flag he was wearing over his back.
"Here haud ma flag."
He was told to step aside by the lassie who assured him that she was handling it. And handle it she did as she made for the terrified guy.
"This isnae aboot Catholics! This celebration's fur everybidy ya cunt."
Only 364 days until it next rolls around.