Give Me Pound Shops Or Give Me Death

The next whingeing whelp who writes into the Evening Times to gurn about the proliferation of shops that aren't M&S, Boots or Sainsbury's in Glasgow city centre is gonna get a turd through their letterbox. Fucking hell, to hear them bleat on you'd think every second shop on Sauchiehall Street & Argyll Street was a twenty bob stop of some sort. Even if it was, so fucking what? Those streets have always had their tat shops and glorified sport-sock retailers. You want posh? Go to fucking Edinburgh! Or maybe the lower end of Buchanan Street............. Then there was the girl at work who had never eaten a scone. Is that possible? Reports that she passed out with excitement when someone tried to describe pancake to her are as yet unsubstantiated.............. Everyone on the planet has had a scone at some time in their life, whether they wanted one or not. Visits to your aunt's house on a sunday afternoon were always fraught with the dangers of being left with the cake-stand outcasts. All it took was a poorly timed toilet break and all the Taxi's, Breakaways and Jammy Dodgers would be nestling in your brothers trouser pockets, leaving you with the odious fruit slice, the foul lemon fingers and and those dry, scabby looking, but ultimately edible scones. Right, I'm off to a branch of "Everythings A Fucking Quid" to buy a pack of 100 half empty AA batteries, some place-mats with Labradors on and a screwdriver kit and I'll still have enough left from a tenner to get the messages in at Lidl! To quote Joe Fagin, "That's Livin' Alright"