The Scottish for Chav is apparently Shunk - and the Scottish make the roughest rough-u-like in the world. Aggressive, scowling, closely shorn - covered in bling, nasty tattoos, and hands occupied with an expensive mobile phone and a cheap cigarette.
Mark has a peculiar taste in them. After a wonderful lunch of Scottish cuisine on Sunday (Cafe Gandolfini), Mark gave me the choice between tasting whisky or Shunk hunting.
So we went for the shunks. First stop was the Barras Market - a sprawl of cheap food, cheap clothes, combat gear, and TimLand football memorabilia. Everywhere were fly posters alerting people to the dangers of methanol poisoning in fake vodka. And the shunks - spread out, selling fake DVDs in the driving rain, or huddled up at a fat food stall, poking at some chips and playing pocket billiards.
After that we ran through the rain to TK Maxx, where few of the other shoppers had ever eaten a vegetable. Mark and I patrolled the aisles, as Mark spotted one fine shop assistant after another.