Wednesday, August 24, 2005


23, an accent like thick coffee, and a brain sharpened by a politics degree and a summer job in a call centre.

We met in Cube, the only place to go in Glasgow that's open late, late, really late on a Monday. It was packed full of old friends all saying strange things to each other - such as the an old man shrugging sadly at a young man and saying, "But Douggie, there was a place on the bus for yuz. We waited..."

Anyway, there was Mike. Hurrah for him. I think I cheered him up. "Oh, man - I had the worst one night stand last week," he told me, "I let this bloke piss all over me - you know, like water sports. Woke up the next morning dying for a shower - and he didn't have a working bathroom. He just waved, put his clothes back on and went back out to work on a Virgin train. Man, I felt dirty - had to go to uni, buying new clothes on the way. I stank."

He paused. And smiled. "Do you have a working shower?"

"Yes." Hang on. "But-"

"Oh. No - none of that! Not again. Being sniffed at by old ladies on the bus cured me."

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