This charming fellow did not reveal his location:
HihI. i am looking for woman and this can be either you or it can be your friends. recent pen-friend (also from the UK) describe me as ’stunningly inadequate, and difficult to open’ but i see yuo have philosophy and so i would believe there are no barriers you could not hop across. myself i was also at college. i went in there, and then died, and then went in there again. i am now almost done. now its Time to come together and make it good. i hope soon to come to scottland also, to see the high hills and low cracks and so if we can make friend now then when i am in the country i surely find it easier to meet woman (though we can start with yourself).
thankyou for my induction.
I don’t know what I love most about this one, but the dramatic language regarding his education is certainly a strong contender. I think the world might be a better place if when you said “Hey Phil, aren’t you a university dropout?”, your mate Phil replied “Yeah, man, I went in there, and died—but I went in there again, and I’m graduating next week! It’s time to come together and make it good, boys!”
Also, I know I can’t be the only one who loves it when a stranger in a bar (in one of Scotland’s illustrious high hills or low cracks of course) says “Hi there. Let me buy you a drink—I’m looking for a woman, and it can either be you, or it can be one of your friends.” This mildly threatening come-on is really one to make a girl feel uniquely attractive.
More importantly, I know what I’ll be adding to my CV as soon as I’ve finished this blog post: ‘Able to hop across absolutely all barriers due to the fact I have philosophy.’
Whilst reading this post, stand in awe before my sophisticated grasp of the nuances of graphic design packages (as evidenced by the squint, somewhat squiggly red arrows and the misshapen question marks).
Anyway, these two corresponding items on the menu in a Glasgow restaurant delighted me when I had dinner with two friends on Saturday night:
We didn’t order either dish. Suggestions regarding why the angry prawns ought to cost more than the (clearly spiritually superior) peaceful prawns are most welcome.
Secondly, this perplexing sight greeted my friend Lewis and I as we were waiting for our train:
What exactly is going on here? “Honey, I’m home! I bought a new computer, and some genuine antlers”??
I’m from Glasgow. My accent isn’t strong, but it’s strong enough that I’m guilty of lazily dropping the letter ‘t’ from words like ‘what’ when I’m speaking very quickly (which is most of the time). Many of my friends and family members have stronger accents than I do, and I’m actually quite fond of Glaswegian parlance sometimes; I’m a particular fan of ‘bawbag’, ‘tube’, and ‘get tae’. However, I strongly dislike those people (Scottish or otherwise) who take great pains to bring their accent across in everyday text-based communication for absolutely no good reason. I particularly loathe this when it is combined with offensively unnecessary abbreviations. On an unrelated note, I also hate bad poetry. With that in mind, let me introduce you to John:
Awrite? mah names john d. and im frae glasgow but live over the border noo and am studyin in Lancaster fur mah degree. ah see ur @ Glasgow wot ru studyin? wot ah do in spare time is look @ pix of lassies on here and wen they inspiration me then I send a poem. ah did that for u the noo. dis one is based oan ur pic wer ur relaxin oan a pillow:
*as the night sky falls i fill ur heart with love
but yet i fead ur soul wit all that i av.
in times of needing i might no be there by ur side,
and u turn and look and feel so alone,
but in ur heart is where i will be
always.*
Rite back!
xxxxxxxxxxx
Good lord. I don’t think I’ve ever ‘inspirationed’ a man to quite that degree before.
