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About Glasgow

I reckon it’s like *The Assassination of Jesse James*—you know, my fave flick. Slow, moody, full of sneaky vibes. “Every man’s got his own shadow,” Jesse’d say. Same with this game—shady corners, dodgy blokes. I’ve seen it, mate! Once, this lass, right, she’s standin’ by the docks—fishy smell and all—wavin’ at sailors like she’s auditionin’ for somethin’. Made me chuckle, “There’s a fella who’s slow on the draw!” She’s bold, I’ll give her that. Surprised me, coz I thought, “Who’s got the guts?” Turns out, plenty do!

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So, I rush out, and there’s this crowd outside. Turns out, it was just a drill. A DRILL! I’m standing there, all flustered, and this old bloke next to me starts chatting about the weather. I’m like, “Mate, it’s England. It’s always rubbish!” But he laughs, and I can’t help but chuckle too.

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