Ma cousin Gerry met some decorater gadgie … Wullie somethin’, cannae remember … aboot a month later at a Kilmarnock fitba match. He’d been telt by a mate that Tony Viviani had been remanded for trial for attempted murder. Deirdre, his missus, had came back efter aw, the next mornin’ but even fuckin’ angrier than when she’d left. The folk next door had heard screamin’… ‘Ah’m gonnae fuckin kill ye…!’, an’ stuff … an’ they phoned the polis. When they turned up, Deirdre wis lyin’ oan the kitchen floor wi’ blood gushin’ fae a heid wound. Tony wis sittin’ in the living room watchin’ Countdown an’ drinkin’ a cup ae tea.
The weans were still at Brenda’s. Ye couldnae fuckin’ make it up, man!
What did you take from that?
That Galston folk are pure mental, eh?