Quotes: Violent Glaswegian
"Until very recently it had been my opinion that the best way to see Glasgow was from an aeroplane, or, at the very least, by driving through at eighty miles an hour with the windows wound up."
'Seefy tries enythin wi me, eez fuckin fucked. Av git steel toecaps and nay fuckin tolerance.
Ah it still makes me proud to be Scottish, a man on fire being kicked to death by the friendliest airport staff in the world.
— Jamsie Cotter
, Rab C. Nesbitt
- on the 2007 Glasgow airport terror attacks (see Real Life
example in the main article)
I'm from Glasgow. If I had to explain Glasgow to you... I'd say that if I had to pick a city in the world... where I could depend on a member of the public... to punch a man who was on fire. To punch a flaming man! To the ground! We should get a photo of that blown up and use it as the welcome sign in Scottish airports. And underneath we should have the words "Scotland Welcomes Careful Drivers"
. I mean, the naiveté of Al-Qaeda trying to bring religious war to Glasgow. We're four hundred years ahead of you guys. You've not even got a football team.
— Frankie Boyle
, also on the failed 2007 Glasgow airport attacks.
Who attacks Glasgow?! One of the suicide bombers was rugby tackled! How tough do you have to be to watch a car plow into a building on fire, a guy gets out in flames, runs across the terminal, and you go "Fuckin' watch this!"
*lunges* ... A car came into the airport, a guy fell out of it. He's rolling around on the ground on fire. I turn to the police officer next to me, I said "Should we help him?" He said "No, let the fucker burn!
Lee Mack: What's on your rider list, Frankie? (mock Glaswegian accent) Six cans of bitter and a knife!
Frankie Boyle: Yeah, six cans of bitter for a teetotal alcoholic!
Only Frankie Boyle could complain about the fact that I mentioned alcohol and not mention the knife! (puts on the Glaswegian accent again) "I'll take the knife, but don't accuse me of drinkin'!"
What do you think of that, Mr. Pajama-Wearing, Basket-Face, Slipper-Wielding, Clype-Dreep-Bachle, Gether-Uping-Blate-Maw, Bleathering, Gomeril, Jessie, Oaf-Looking, Scooner, Nyaff, Plookie, Shan, Milk-Drinking, Soy-Faced Shilpit, Mim-Moothed, Sniveling, Worm-Eyed, Hotten-Blaugh, Vile-Stoochie, Cally-Breek-Tattie?
So: T'all ye fine dandies so proud, so cock-sure, prancin' aboot wi yer heads full of eyeballs! Come an' get me I say! I'll be waitin' on ye with a whiff o' the 'ol brimstone! I'm a grim bloody fable... with an unhappy bloody end!
Ooh, they'll have ta glue you back together... IN HELL!
Don't feel bad for losin'. I was wrestlin' wolves back when you were at your mother's teat!
— Groundskeeper Willie to the Alaskan timber wolf he just beat
...To allow cold steel into the hands of a Glasgow man is tantamount to running guns to the Apaches.
Spite Douggie, would ye? Take that! (rams the Spiteful Brakevan)
Doctor Rick Dagless MD: The cabin crew suggested we all go out and club it. I had no option. It was that or one of their B&Bs. I figured it'd be safer on the streets. For the first time ever I saw the Scotch in their natural habitat, and it weren't pretty. I'd seen them huddling in stations before, being loud but… this time I was surrounded. Everywhere I went it felt like they were watching me; fish-white flesh puckered by the Highland breeze; tight eyes peering out for fresh meat; screechy, booze-soaked voices hollering out for a taxi to take 'em halfway up the road to the next all-night watering hole. A shatter of glass; a round of applause; a sixteen-year-old mother of three vomiting in an open sewer, bairns looking on, chewing on potato cakes. I ain’t never going back… not never.
Doctor Rick Dagless MD:
"I'll knock ye the fuck out, mate!"