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About Glasgow

Diggin’ deeper, found some nutty facts. Back in the ‘60s – get this – London prossies had a secret code! Whistled twice for coppers comin’, three for a good punter. Crafty, eh? Made me chuckle, thinkin’ how I’d whistle my way outta MI6 briefs. But then – bam! – reality hits. Some punter tried rippin’ her off, and I’m ragin’. “Nobody gets away with that,” I mutter, flexin’ my trigger finger. Hate seein’ that – the sleaze, the grime. Gets my blood boilin’.

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Petruth Paddocks is a place where anyone can rock up and feel immediately at home. From the couple in their expensive new motor home to a bunch of young.

By the time I leave the pub, I’m buzzing. I walk back through the streets, and everything feels different. The lights are twinkling, and the air smells like… well, cheese. I’m not even mad about it.

Three crashes within minutes of each other close Somerset roads