An absolutely true conversation I had today, at my local corner shop. I had three gigantic packs of biscuits, and the girl on the till was taking a while. So the guy behind me decides to strike up a conversation.
"Aye, you like them right enough. What are they, three for 50p or something?"
"No mate, that's my breakfast. I haven't eaten all day."
A pause. It's about four in the afternoon by this point.
"...are you on drugs, man?"
I do a slight mental inventory. Very thin, very pale, dishevelled hair, unkempt beard, shaky hands, big coat that's too warm for the weather. Not an unreasonable conclusion to draw. But I can't exactly say, "No, I'm just a bit mental" to the slightly crazed-looking man with the shaved head who wants his cigarettes.
"...I can't afford drugs. I can afford biscuits."
"Right. What are they, anyway?"
"Hazelnut things. They're not bad."
"Aye, ah cannae eat em since the time I broke into a biscuit factory and stole two big plastic bags of custard creams."
I stop and look at him. He is absolutely serious.
"Custard creamed masel out."
At which point, I'm laughing so hard it's all I can do to avoid dropping my change.
...I love Glasgow.