Classic Glasgow conversation

Was in the gym today in the East (rough) end.  Conversation between two gym members :

Guy with scar on his face : ‘Where’s your partner in crime today?’

<translation : where is your usual training partner>

Fat guy : ‘He was in the motor wi the wife.  I canny be arsed with him.’

<translation : my friend has been promised sex from the wife so he is cancelling the scheduled gym visit>

Fat guy : ‘I canny be arsed with this today.  Ma guts are dodgy.  My ma keeps putting all this olive oil in my food’.

<translation : I am a lazy fat man who still lives at home with his mum.  She’s been feeding me healthy food and I feel sick from saturated fat and sodium withdrawal>

Fat guy : ‘I really wanted to go for a….swim or someink’ 

Guy with scar on his face : ‘where do you go?’

Fat guy : ‘Gorbals’

<translation : the ghetto gym, junkies surround it and the smell of cigarette smoke inside is normal>

Guy with scar on his face : ‘I know a guy who goes there a lot.  He knows the manager so gets in for a couple of quid’

<translation : everything in Glasgow is jobs for the boys or favours for your pals.  As a result, the council owned gym gives out free or cheap admission unofficially to favoured ‘friends’ of the management.  We the tax payer soak up the shortfall>

Fat guy : ‘I like to use the sauna there.  But I’d like an ‘assisted’ sauna today…don’t get paid till the end of the month though’

<translation : I’d like to visit the brothel (sauna) for a bj and a rubdown as soon as finances allow>

Guy with scar on his face : ‘Ha ha ha’

<translation : I was there yesterday getting my nuts fondled>

Glasgow’s new Mayor

It’s Glasgow’s new Mayor and ambassador for Glesga – wee man

 I’m expecting the tax on alcohol to be abolished and Amsterdam coffee shops to open everywhere soon….and 5 free eccies with your Giro.

Wee man – you get my vote!

Glasgow city of grunts

After coming back from holidays, I just couldn’t believe how grunty and impolite people here are.

After the muslim/ethnic experience through Heathrow airport, we would met by grunty Scots at the other end.  And the taxi we got home just stank, unlike all the other taxis we’d been in Australia/Asia.  The taxi driver spoke to use but didn’t ask the obvious question - where have you been on holiday!!! 

Needless to say he didn’t get a tip – no doubt he thinks I’m a tight arse but the truth is….he’s got a stinking taxi that made me sick.  No leg room either.  Just a joke.