On our way home from work tonight, my friend and I encountered a waif like girl in her twenties looking rather disorientated and upset. She also sported a very severe gash on her forehead/eyebrow - recently aquired as her clothes were freshly bloodstained.

She approached us asking for help. Immediatly we told her she needs medical help and enquired as to how she got into this state.

‘ I fell. ‘ she replied.

Pretty obvious she didnt..

She then asked if she could buy a cigarette off my friend. It would have been pretty expensive for one fag as she offered a £10 note. My friend, the good soul that he is declined the money but gave her a cigarette.

This is where my compassion ended. My Glasgow instincts kicking in. This wasnt right, she was in pain but wanted to part with a tenner for a coffin nail. We asked again how this very nasty gash happened.

‘ Sumbody a know…. ‘

Hmmm.. strange and I began to look around for the boyfriend. Looking at her again this wasnt shock that was making her judgement impaired. She looked as if she enjoyed a drug or two.. I also began to wonder if we would end up getting mugged by the boyfriend and her..

We told her that we would walk her to a taxi to get to the hospital. She again refused. We then walked away sharply as did she..

Now, why refuse when she initially asked for help? I do not trust people like her who have all the hallmarks of being on some kind of drug/or coming off a hit, blood pissing from a head wound but had the gall to ask for a fag.

What is the point of being a good samaritan? I wonder how many other good samaritans were stopped tonight by her. I also wonder if someone took the £10?

Probably her boyfriend.

Taxi Drivers. Curious people..

Stephen: Busy tonight?

Taxi Driver: Aye, well.. naw. No really. Well, when a say no really, its been raining and its been causing a bit of floods so naw. No really busy big man.

Stephen: Okay. One of them nights then?

Taxi Driver: Aye. Workin the night then?

Stephen: Yes, my liver. Working it overtime with fine red wine.

Taxi Driver: Yer no fae Edinburgh are ye?

—- ( This is the point where I now try to become cold and slient ) ————-

Stephen: No. Ive been always here. Forever here. Today, yesterday and tommorow.

Taxi Driver: Fair doos.

—— ( I have shut him up ) —————–

Taxi Driver: A wis reading aboot the Blair wan saying we are all doomed. Like in oor lifetime.

Stephen ( Becoming interested ) Oh yeah. Its old news that. 20 years too old.

Taxi Driver: Aye. We is gonna see disasters. Flooding. Dae ye know what that means big man?

Stephen: No?

Taxi Driver: Mere fuckin immigrants!

——————

Oh god, another racist taxi driver. I love Taxi Drivers. Yes I do. The non racist ones.

——————–

The conversation became rather one sided and I shut off until the following:

Taxi Driver: Its awright fur Bush n company. They have special spaceships in which they can escape intae space if sumthing bad happens tae the climate. There is space stations fill of plants tae make oxygen so they can live long.

—————————-

I have a week off, so I decided to have a seriously lazy weekend reading books and playing Football Manager 2007. Within a short space of time I ( using the managerial pseudonym Sir Wilfrid Winterbottom ) guided my team to a domestic treble within my first season in charge. As I wished to be a club legend I resigned and took charge of a lowly English Conference team. Its not working out and regardless of my track record, I’m due to be sacked if I lose my next game.

–
I was on the bus on Saturday when an old man who was drunk shouted to a little girl about six years old who was traveling alone ( SHOCKING! ) that ‘ If I hear you pimp again I’ll chop yer fuckin hands aff ‘

For readers who are not used to Glaswegian: The drunk told the girl not to break wind or something bad might happen to her.

Glasgow can be a strange place. Not one passenger said anything, not even the pensioners and pensioners on buses are usually the first people to say something to drunks or people who shout swear words.

—

Finally, I have received some emails regarding an update on the life of Glen Michael. I do not work at the same place as him anymore so I cant help and lets respect Cecil’s privacy!

Ive been really busy so I have not had the chance to blog, sorry!

Yesterday, I bade farewell to my workplace over the last year to go to something a lot better financially as a wage slave during the day. At 10:26am yesterday I left my desk to go to the local supermarket to purchase a tin of dog food. It was not for a dog nor was it for myself.

I returned to my desk and placed the tin on my desk, where it will remain for quite some time. Okay readers, I would like your theories as to why I left a tin of dog food on my desk at my last day at work.

I’m bored. I have been bored for several days now.