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so who's from scotland and where are you located?

At least it's no aberdeen....

Haha bang on man, spent an hour there once.. Was prescribed anti depressants soon after and life hasn't been the same since but I'm learning to cope lol, would rather go to fife, and we all know what goes on in fife ....
 
Haha bang on man, spent an hour there once.. Was prescribed anti depressants soon after and life hasn't been the same since but I'm learning to cope lol, would rather go to fife, and we all know what goes on in fife ....

Well, the parts of Fife I spent the school holidays in was all farming, shooting bunnies and peasants, taking Land Rovers over g**f courses and generally lots of fun....

However, south of Falkland was where the bad people were, so didna go there....
 
Well, the parts of Fife I spent the school holidays in was all farming, shooting bunnies and peasants, taking Land Rovers over g**f courses and generally lots of fun....

However, south of Falkland was where the bad people were, so didna go there....

Lol, glad you made it out alive brother ! Shhh ... You don't talk about the south of Falkland ... I've heard bad things ... Murder ... Incest .... Sheep !?! ;)
 
Fit?
Awa wi ye.

The also self-conferred nickname ‘Silver City’ was another over-reaching feat of turd-polishing euphemism. It was grey. Everything was grey. There was just no getting away from it. The buildings were all – all – made of granite, and the sky was covered in a thick layer of permacloud. It. Was. Grey. If Aberdeen was silver, then shite wasn’t brown, it was coppertone. It was grey, as in dull, as in dreary, as in chromatically challenged. It was grey, grey, grey. And the only thing greyer than the city itself was the the fucking natives.
“A big boy did it and ran away” © Christopher Brookmyre, 2001
 
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