wearealldoomed

That's a pretty accurate take on the sort of conversation you'll hear in that store. Does the Daily Star feature a wine column or something?

Toryglen fucking Asda. The shop is full of utter cretins and their deformed offspring. Natural selection in Glasgow seems to be utterly goosed. To top it off, despite being the scum of the earth, the store's customer base seems to know it's red wines. Any half decent bottles in the 3 for 10 quid offer were sold out. Ach well, cheap and nasty Argentine guff it is. Edited to add: I'm pretty damn close to adding somone to my ignore list for the first time, and it ain't Kilt. Give it a fucking rest.

Ex-Albion Rovers? I watched him play a good few times. That's a bit of a shocker, to say the least.

For no apparent reason, the wallopers who have moved on site to demolish an adjacent nursery school find it appropriate to run a f'ck off diesel generator all night. That was just superb last night when the bedroom was way too warm to even contemplate closing the windows. Also, the three Hamilton neddettes who prattled incessant pish on the Glasgow to Edinburgh train this morning, whilst en route to a "management course". What a squad of manky cockfarmers who lacked the ability to complete a sentence without using the phrase "anawislikthat" were likely to learn from said course is anyone's guess. With no empty seats elsewhere on the carriage and not wanting to appear like a c'nt to the colleague I was travelling with, I resisted the urge to bung on my iPod. Won't be doing that again.

Adultery is a religious concept, is it not? I'd have considered many folks' opinions on "cheating" to be informed by that, whether married or not.

The world's no doubt moved on since I was 20 or thereabouts, but I can't think of anyone I know who "wouldn't be bothered" by that scenario. I'm the least religious person you'll ever meet, but my own moral compass tell me that f'cking around when you're in a serious reletioship is a bit pants. Each to their own, I suppose.

Damn right. If I wasn't too bothered whether she shagged around, or if she felt the same about me, then it would have to be questioned as to why we were in a relationship in the first place. It's not that difficult to not to f'ck anything with a pulse.

Those of us who aren't selfish b@stards certainly would. I find the arguments on this thread utterly bizzare. I've been doing the long distance thing for almost a year, though we had been going out for a year beforehand. It's never crossed my mind to "chat up" another burd, far less shag her. I've went way longer then the 3-4 weeks without a shag in the past, so it's hardly a hardship not to go chasing burds when we're not in the same city. If the burd told me she wouldn't mind me doing so, I'd be rather confused.

Wummin in work moaning about the weather, and Scottish summers in partucular. You live in fucking GLASGOW, for f'ck's sake! It rains here, often upwards of 200 days a year. Deal with it.

Most folk will be gauging their opinions on the immediate surroundings of the football ground, train staion and town centre though. If I didn't know Coatbridge or Airdrie and was visiting for the first time, I'd immeditely turn around and f'ck off at the site of either town centre. Blairhill, Drumpellier and Dunbeth (posh areas of Coatbridge for the ininitiated), as well as any part of Airdrie that predates the 1930s, are f'cking lovely. Whitlst Airdrie has sufferd from the degeneration of the town centre like so many other places nearby, Coatbridge is a hell of a lot better now than 20 years back.

I've seen a couple of Irish tricolours flying in Kirkwood from time to time, but that isn't really a surprise. Whifflet would have been fun last night. I wonder if the Carsons Loyal decided to perform a huddle round the roundabout again?

The fit:munter ratio is skewed toward munter by those skanks who pretend to like fitba and beer as they have no friends of their own and who to snare an equally desperate bloke though. Examples being the charmingly named "Spit the Dog" and "Spit the Dog's mate" who were regulars on various Airdrie buses for many years. Edit: The quality of burd on Airdrie buses over the years is pretty shocking actually. No, I didn't get any. Did you you admonish her for her uncouth behaviour in front of your mates, or were you secrety a wee bit proud?

That's all well and good, but the flipside is that whenver the OF or Scotland are playing a big televised match, the pub is hoaching with horrible burds with no knowledge of fitba, who insist in coming out with their boyfriends and behaving like utter twats whenever there's a big game on. For each burd who's cracking company and and is as happy drinking pints in some provincial shithole prior to a lower league fitba match as she is sipping G&Ts in Princes Square with her mates, there are another half dozen who should be kept firmly locked up on planet burd.

Said burd's maw is a f'cking mentalist, which should have set the warning lights flashing in my mate's head. That said, if all you're looking for in life is a regular sh@g, somewhere to park your car and as many homecooked dinners at the burd's parents' as you can eat, then I suppose seeing your mates more than once a year, your season ticket and any other frivoulous spending would be easy to sacrifice. Maybe I'm just spoiled by going out with a burd who likes beer, fitba and gigs.

With the exception of the Ayr stuff, that sounds uncannily like a mate of mine and his sour-faced boot of a wife. Within around 3 months of going out, they had a deposit down on a hideously expensive pokey 1 bed flat in Airdrie, and her parents had extended their driveway for my mate's motor. He's given up his Huun season ticket (a blessed relief some might say), and was working two jobs for a while to pay for said shitty overpriced flat. I could count on the figers of one hand the number of times he's been out for a bevvy with his mates in the last 3-4 years. Blokes who end up in that kind of situation need a good slap and a boot to their baws to assist them in coming to their senses.

You know you're getting old when Kilt has sh@gged a burd who's younger then you. Only a month and a bit younger, but the point stands...

Inviting burds to the fitba is should only be considered once you know yourselves VERY well. A she's a fitba fan herself, we'd watched Scotland games and the likes in the pub. For some reason, I then invited her to the 2nd leg of last year's play-off final at Broadwood. By my own standards, I was reasonably restrained, despite Airdrie lying back and having their collective tummy tickled by Clyde. My veneer of Zen like calm was shattered when Greame Holmes shat out of a tackle that was at least 70-30 in his favour, is spite of us being 2 goals down with a good half hour to play. I was too irate to remember if I apologiesed for the explosion of bad language, phlegm and windmilling gesticulation that followed, but I'm astounded she didn't disown me at that point.

The Morrison's story reminds me of a wee incident in the Tuttie's Neuk at Gayfield a few years back. Having been refused service on accound of being shitfaced, I truned round, informed my mate of the situation then handed him money to buy the round. My mate then ordered two pints from the very same barmaid, who saw right though our cunning plan and refused to serve him.

Carling when served nigh on freezing is surprisingly OK. I was probably doing it a diss-ervice in grouping it along with that other guff. Carlsberg and XXXX are proably the worst of the lot. Strange that, as Carslberg Export is not bad at all. Edited for spelling and to include Skol, the daddy of all cooking lagers. I'm convinced only the ethnic minority owned grocer's near my mate's flat in Airdrie sells this anymore. There appear to be a chain of those places in shitty proviincial English towns. "Chicago Rock Cafe" was a very popular location amongst applications for Criminal Injuries Compensation when I did that job. At £1.20 a pint for the cooking lager of the week, I'm not surprised every 2nd night seems to degenerate into a barney there.

By comparison to the w@nky premium lagers I normally drink, it wasn't great, but it stood up well compared to the Tennent's I had (£1.50 a pint. ) in an earlier pub. In the cooking lager league table, I'd place it below Tennent's but comfortably ahead of Carling, Fosters, Miller and the likes. A solid 6/10.

Twas the Universal in Glasgow. I didn't pop inot a Police box beforhand either. I was astounded to find it on sale, hence why I bought a pint. The last pub I recall serving it on draught was the Craigdhu in the uber salubrious Whifflet district of Coatbridge. The replaced it with Miller or the likes around 1998.

As I say, it tasted a lot better than I remember from my drinking apprenticeship in the late 90s. That said, I had consumed 6 pints prior to ordering it, so may have been overcome by nostalgia at that point.

Last night I had a pint of McEwan's Lager for the first time in nigh on a decade. Although it didn't taste half as bad as I remember it tasting, I'm blaming that pint from my thumping head earlier on today. The other 7 pints of assorted lagers and real ales had no bearing on my sore head whatsoever. Tis solely the fault of McEwans.

Tis out west, FinnieSton/Partick way IIRC.

Platform 12 (the old 11a) at Glasgow Central. The train was actually on time for once, but any potential boost to my flexi balance was more than wiped out by having to disembark in fucking Tradeston.