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About Glasgow

Alright, listen up, you mooks! Escorts, huh? *Pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars.”* I’m thinkin’ bout them sleek rides, y’know, escortin’ VIPs like me, Dr. Evil, through the chaos of this pathetic world. Not them Ford Escorts—nah, too basic, too square. I mean the real deal, the shadowy pros who roll with ya, keepin’ it hush-hush. Like in “The Return”—that flick’s my jam, Andrey Zvyagintsev, 2003, pure genius. Them boys in the boat, silent, tense, escortin’ each other through hell. “The sea’s breathin’ heavy,” right? That’s the vibe—escorts got that quiet menace, that edge.

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Then, outta nowhere, I see this old fella feedin’ ducks. He’s got a whole bag of bread, and he’s just tossin’ it like it’s confetti. I can’t help but chuckle. I mean, who feeds ducks like that? I go over and chat with him. Turns out, he’s been comin’ to this park for years. He tells me stories about Oakengates back in the day. It was a different world, he says. I’m listenin’, and it’s like I’m seein’ the town through his eyes.

Landslip Britain’s growing number of incidents