A mate of mine relayed this story of Glasgow life to me.

Mate Says me and another guy from the flats were chatting in the garden and these wee steeks [ed he is from the North]  came in to play football (yes, our garden is kind of a municiple ned social ground) see the guy tossed […]

I am quiet happy over here in old blighty but it is funny how you cling to your Irishness be it going to a crap “orish” bar for St Guinness day other times you listen to Ryan Tuberity something you would never at home.  It is quiet strange