When God was making Glasgow, he spent a lot of time getting it just right: harsh weather conditions, a vicious undercurrent of football and religion related hatred and an anti-social phenomenon known as Sauchiehall Street On A Saturday Night made sure that everyone spent so much time hiding indoors, the music and club scene soon became one of the nation’s finest. It was all part of the plan.
But then, after a particularly hard week trying to get some of the snootier members of the London-based World Planning Committee to believe in his Glaswegian Accent blueprint, the Lord said, “Fuck this. Let there be dance music on the streets of Glasgow, played from the back of a car. Let there be dancing on bins and general revelry until the early hours.”
And with that, the good Lord laid down his Blackberry, cracked open a Stella, and proceeded to get mad wae it like the best of us.
The Glasgow Co-Op mobile party last night on Midland Street – one of the best publicity stunts we’ve seen for a while. Here we, here we, here we ruddy well go.