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About Glasgow

But then—ha!—there’s the other side. Met this bird, Rosie, worked the corner near the pub. Cheeky as hell, she was—nicked me fags once, laughed in me face! Said, “Boris, you’re a toff, but I like ya.” Made me day, that did—proper chuffed. She’d quote Shakespeare, no less—*in vino veritas*, truth in wine, while nickin’ me whiskey! Swear she’d fit right in Kaufman’s mad world, playin’ a dozen roles at once.

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The stoning of adulterers and gay people? No, that God would protect Larne economically. Why are some people in Larne embarrassed about that? The truth is that Larne is part of our Bible .

By the end of the day, I’m fried. I head to the pub on the corner of High Street. I need a pint, like, yesterday. I sit down, and the bartender, a mate of mine, pours me a cold one. “Rough day?” he asks. I just nod. I tell him about the car crash, the flood, and the coffee spill. He laughs, and I can’t help but join in.

Larne crash out of Irish Cup at Limavady