h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Interesting page Wumbeevil, only where's the subtitles button. I haven't watched Rab C. Nesbitt for a while and I'm a bit out of practice. I thought Glasgow was something like the galactic city of culture . . . isn't it? I usually get lost whenever I visit. They seem to have a new bit of one-way madness prepared for me each time. Also, I have no sense of direction - I guess that's how I keep ending up in Glasgow.

Damn, someone's off with my subtitles button. You can't leave anything down in Glasgow, but someone goes and puts it in a museum, builds a gallery around it, or tries to flog it for drink as they keep seeing pink elephants wandering around, little realising they are actually mobile sculptures.

I also have no sense of direction (or is it just no sense?) that's why I'm still here. You'ld better gain a sense of direction quick, your life expectancy drops dramatically once you cross into this city (the healthiest constituency in Glasgow is also the 19th worst in the UK!). I think the main one-way system in Glasgow leads people to six feet under.

Yes folks, come to Glasgow, European City of Heart Disease, Malnutrition, Poverty and Premature Death 1800 - whenever the powers that be stop wasting the money on YAF folly for tourists. New for 2001! Climb the Glasgow Tower and watch the bodies floating down the Clyde.

All that and I forgot to mention the bigotry between the tribes of The Timmites and The Hunnites. I'll never get that job as Head of Tourism now.

Hey, Leicestershire! Didn't you warn Martin O'Neill what was going to happen to his life expectancy?

So you have an infestation of button bandits in your neighbourhood. Bad news indeed! My neck of the woods is also relatively button-free. That's probably an indication they've already swarmed through this area, denuding it of all its indigenous button population before descending on Glasgow.

Your description of Glasgow isn't quite as cosy as I remember it. Do you think I should nip over to Corby and warn the folks over there that their nostalgia for "dear ol' Glasgee" is no longer appropriate? Mind you, I'm in the habit of sitting round the camp fire with the tribal elders and indulging in the local brew ("when in Glasgow do as the Glaswegians" as they might say if they weren't obsessed with the Romans) and that may have the effect of making the surroundings seem more salubrious.

I don't know if the subtitles button might've helped out with this but, what are "The Timmites and The Hunnites"? You wouldn't be referring to the traditional supporters of Glasgow's 2 famous football teams would you? And would Martin O'Neill be a football player, by any chance? When answering these questions, please bear in mind that you're addressing the sportless (and that doesn't make me a bad person by the way).

Oh no, does this mean we're getting a button museum as well? That's what I get paid in, and if they suddenly become scarce... well there's no way I'm accepting my wages in those newfangled Eurozips.

I've put up a little temporary taster of Glasgow for your delectation and those who have indulged a little too freely in the amber nectar and talk of 'dear ol Glasgee' (very suspicious pronunciation! Bet they haven't been here since they got rickets). However the whole article is available for starting fights round the camp fire, if you want to keep warm as the insects burn out.

What is the local brew down there? I'd guess it's Foxentrail Wine, or is it one of your little home-brewed insect fermentation recipes.

Yes, you've correctly spotted the two tribes of Glasgow, both of whom seem to be more interested in "the land across the sea" than in the land beneath their feet. No, I don't mean Norway, no one has an obsession with Norway (with the possible exception of Slartibartfast).

Martin O'Neill is the new Tribal Elder of The Timmites, here to lead them into the promised land (probably Corby). In a past life he was the Tribal Elder of your tribe, The Foxes, and led them on long marches to the far off land of Wembillee which was guarded by two mighty towers.

Oh yeah, no prizes for guessing my constituency!

I hope my employers don't find out that you can pay the workers in fastening devices up North or the business'll be moving. Based in the countryside as we are, they would really like to pay me in chicken guano but I insist on a form of currency that the bank tellers will be able and (more to the point) willing to handle.

I get the impression that you're unmoved by your city's struggles to become a centre for European culture. Some famous old dude (so famous I have no clue who he was - could have been Wellington) once said something about having the urge to reach for a gun whenever anyone mentioned "culture". Do you share that sentiment? Your temporary taster of Glasgow's poignant and for some reason, hasn't been included with any of the tourist information I've seen - up to now. Nothing wrong with my pronunciation . . . is there? I'd take the issue up with my dad only he was a Glaswegian, so obviously he's dead now. Lived to the ripe old age of 70 (having left Glasgow at age 14) but the high fat, high salt, low roughage diet just followed him wherever he went and his heart, outraged by the years of abuse, eventually chucked the job in.

I've never owned a still, or indeed a bucket. I think some of the boys down here drink Scrutocks Olde Dirigible with the bits of twig and birds beaks. I tend to stick to what can be purchased from Tesco. Californian red plonk and so on. In my experience insects add nothing useful, unless you're fond of vinegar.

I felt a small glow of pride when you confirmed that I'd correctly guessed what the Timmites and Hunnites were but I'm glad I'm not missing out on a prize for guessing which you are. I can't guess which is which, never mind where your allegiances lie. Is it obligatory to belong to one or other of them? Would you be lynched if you supported Chelsea or became a Buddhist or an atheist, for example?

I hope my employers don't find out that you can pay the workers in fastening devices up North or the business'll be moving. Based in the countryside as we are, they would really like to pay me in chicken guano but I insist on a form of currency that the bank tellers will be able and (more to the point) willing to handle.

I get the impression that you're unmoved by your city's struggles to become a centre for European culture. Some famous old dude (so famous I have no clue who he was - could have been Wellington) once said something about having the urge to reach for a gun whenever anyone mentioned "culture". Do you share that sentiment? Your temporary taster of Glasgow's poignant and for some reason, hasn't been included with any of the tourist information I've seen - up to now. Nothing wrong with my pronunciation . . . is there? I'd take the issue up with my dad only he was a Glaswegian, so obviously he's dead now. Lived to the ripe old age of 70 (having left Glasgow at age 14) but the high fat, high salt, low roughage diet just followed him wherever he went and his heart, outraged by the years of abuse, eventually chucked the job in.

I've never owned a still, or indeed a bucket. I think some of the boys down here drink Scrutocks Olde Dirigible with the bits of twig and birds beaks. I tend to stick to what can be purchased from Tesco. Californian red plonk and so on. In my experience insects add nothing useful, unless you're fond of vinegar.

I felt a small glow of pride when you confirmed that I'd correctly guessed what the Timmites and Hunnites were but I'm glad I'm not missing out on a prize for guessing which you are. I can't guess which is which, never mind where your allegiances lie. Is it obligatory to belong to one or other of them? Would you be lynched if you supported Chelsea or became a Buddhist or an atheist, for example?

Sorry the same message got posted twice. Got cut off in the middle of posting it and got a bit of a stutter on.

Sorry, should have mentioned to visit my home page, there's a chart of the UK below the wine bottles now. That's what I was referring to when I meant guess my constituency.

Time for bed, will reply tomorro ... err today.

If you're in the countryside, how come you've got a bank? Weren't Barclays actively promoting payment in chicken guano by making sure there were no tellers within 20 miles to object to the fowl practice?

I wouldn't say I'm unmoved by my city's struggles, they're knocking my house down shortly! When I hear 'culture' mentioned I automatically think of not guns (pun not intended), but bacteria in petri dishes - true and somehow calling Glasgow a City of Cultures seems much more apt. No, I just take the view that people should come before a new museum. A controversial standpoint I know. . .

Sounds like your dad had more sense than me, and that is a ripe old age.

Hmm, the last I heard of the Bro in law he was in Lincolnshire, I wonder if he's now poisoning half of Leicestershire with his weird and wonderful brews. There hasn't been a breakout of blindness, or people choking on toenails in their drink, down your way has there?

My constituency is Shettleston, the worst in the UK according to that map on my home page. If I can get a move out of here before they knock the building down, then my life expectancy can only improve. Then again, if I'm still here when the explosives go off . . .

Yeah, it's obligatory to be a Hunnite or a Timmite, and you've also got to be good at guessing when questioned in the street! I'm a confirmed Drinkite, who used to go to the temple of the Huns, I-Brox, but then my mates had the sense to leave Glasgow. So after a few years in the football wilderness, I started going again with a bro in law, but to the temple of the Timmites where much more prematch (and postmatch) bevvy is needed (the way they play, I think the players agree with this philosophy!). Yeah, you guessed, I get flak from both sides.

If it's not a personal question (yeah, OK it is, but not that personal), can you actually drink freely without the excuse of sport? Aah, what a fool I am, you walk the dogs, well walk one dog and then stagger the other.

Think I'll go and start that tourist brochure now. I've almost got enough pics of burnt out cars to do a page, but I'll start with a (true) journal entry

26/7/00 Dear Diary, walking home at 6pm tonight when I passed a local who was vomiting copious amounts of alcoholic liquid. Strange, cos I couldn't remember eating one.

© Glasgow Empire 1935

I misunderstood your final comment about guessing your constituency. My questions must have seemed a bit nosey under the circumstances. Sorry about that. I'd had a look and your health chart map of GB. That was the information I said I hadn't seen included in the tourist info. Very impressive. The city fathers must be proud. Couldn't read the smallest print unfortunately so couldn't tell which constituency was worst. I did notice that the London blackspot seems to be labelled "Southampton" and at that point I decided my eyes just weren't up to the job of reading the small fuzzy writing.

Banking isn't really a problem if you have a telephone or a computer and don't want to dirty your hands with actual cash (probably a richer source of bacteria than chicken poo - but so much less messy). We're having a bit of trouble with the Royal Bank of Scotland though. My employers pay us by automated credit payment and the bank says they're going to withdraw the facility soon and we'll have no choice but to make the transfers ourselves using their on-line banking facility. We've refused. We don't trust on-line banking. We may have to resort to Barclay's chicken-s**t service.

I hope the (council?) is going to replace the accommodation they're demolishing. They're not slinging you and Mrs Beevil onto the street are they? I take it you'd rather stay where you are and they're giving you no choice in the matter. Well, that's democracy for you! Or is it something else? Round here when things change for the worse, we usually suspect bribery and corruption in local government.

So your in-laws are responsible for Scrutocks, are they? I haven't witnessed anyone choking on a toe nail - yet. I think they're ok if they swallow it down rapidly so that any debris washes in a powerful gush straight past the top of their wind-pipe and doesn't get a chance to snag. Other than the temporary blindness of the blind-drunk, they can mostly see well enough to drive. I don't drink anything so risky myself and the ONLY time I drink alcohol is when I fancy a drink - and I'm very strict about that. My parents taught me the rules and I've always followed them to the letter. Generations of natural selection have built me to cope with this harsh discipline and I'm pretty good at it. Neither sport, nor any other excuse is required - just the will.

I can't get interested in any sport so forgive my ignorance if this suggestion seems completely absurd, but wouldn't you be safer taking up golf or cricket? If you can't keep down the locals that you've eaten or aren't digesting them properly, you're probably suffering with a nervous stomach brought on by worrying about getting the . . . ehhh . . . locals kicked out of you by marauding football supporters.

Your eyes weren't deceiving you, you did see "Southampton and Bermondsey". I've just been and checked and it's actually "Southwark North and Bermondsey", so there are worse typesetters in the wurld thann ures trooly.

Sounds like the Royal bank I used to know and love. One guy in my year had his account closed by them simply for overdrawing. They must have expected students to deposit their grant cheques and leave the money in the bank to accrue, well, nothing. I thought they had improved slightly since then, but obviously they've just went and got a bit more hitech in their "your money is our money" approach

The company I work for started paying us electronically last year, and it was actually slower than cheques, on and off, for a few months. I even got hit with the old £20 letter from the bank once cos they had sat on my wages until the following Tuesday.

I definitely don't want to stay around here, I've had quite enough of the enchanting summer smell of the sewage works (and the locals!), thank you very much. We've got another house offer in today, but I'm not expecting it to be anywhere that we want to go.

My dad hardly ever drunk, so I think his sons are out to redress the balance. What's this willpower bit anyway? I'm sitting here willing on tomorrow night when I'll be much healthier down in Irvine, breathing in the sea tobacco fumes and sea beers, but it doesn't seem to be approaching any faster.

Cricket? I remember something about that in a Douglas Adams book, and yes there are a couple of cricket grounds in Glasgow believe it or not. But CRICKET! Have I said something to offend you? I cycled by a cricket ground in Alexandria on my way to Loch Lomond last year and nearly fell off the bike. It was just so 'foreign' seeing folks dressed in the whites and playing cricket on a pitch the size of two tennis courts. Do they really have plenty of little villages down there with cricket greens, or is this just TV portraying some peoples' idyllic idea of England?

You may have a point tho, I've never been confronted by marauding cricket fans.

I forgot to mention, that if you want a bit of culture, they're building sandcastles in the middle of Glasgow, tho you'll have to wait til daylight for a good view.

Use the bottom webcam at http://www.glasgow.gov.uk/html/about/wcindex.htm

Enjoy your culture trip!

My eyes are still working ok. That's a relief after what you were saying about going blind. Still, I'll go and have a look at the sandcastles on the webcam tomorrow, in daylight.

I've ranted at the RBS managers about why our dosh floats around in hyperspace for 3 - 4 days after leaving the company's account and before taking up residence in the employees' accounts. Why should an electronic transfer take several days? When you listen to their excuses, it always sounds very much like a pack of lies. You can call me cynical if you like, but don't call me anything ruder than that (unless you really feel you must).

I think my family must have been hiding your delightful area of the city from me. I've seen some unattractive bits but I've never been through a part that smelled bad. You should put your foot down and dig your heels in and insist on moving to somewhere you'd enjoy living and, preferably, where the locals are bearable . . . and smell sweet. Good luck with that!

My dad's dad used to have a pub in Glasgow. I well remember my mum reminiscing about how annoyed she was when she went up to meet dad's family, to find that in Scotland, women weren't expected to go into pubs. Things have changed since then - just a bit. I never mentioned anything about "willpower". That must have been your (Freudian?) interpretation. I said "will" and I meant all that's required is the "will" to have a drink. No, I don't just trot out the "willpower" for any old purpose. In fact, I can't remember the last time it came out for an airing. It's probably died from neglect by now. I'll check it out some time if I can remember where I stored it. Are you off to Irvine for the weekend? Hope you have a good time! Stick to discussing safe subjects with the denizens of the pubs there - you know: politics, religion - try to steer clear of football and they may allow you to live.

I didn't mean to upset you with talk of cricket. I shouldn't talk about things that are so completely outside my experience and comprehension. Forgive me. Please. I was only thinking of your need (or preference) to remain unbeaten-to-a-pulp. And yes, I think that probably nearly all English villages have a cricket team and a green. My village also has a football team and a hockey team, I think. The only reason I'm aware of the football team is that one of my bosses is responsible for the sports field in his village and when their goal nets went missing, the finger of suspicion was pointed at the members of my village's team. You see, football breeds hatred and loathing even here. Bizarre, or what?

I've been over to have a look at the sand castles. Very odd. It was 19:33 on 28-JUL-2000 according to my clock and calendar but according to the webcam that gets refreshed every 30 seconds, it was 21:51:36 on 27-JUL-2000. Furthermore, the image did appear to get refreshed after 30 seconds, but strangely, nothing (traffic-wise) had moved. I think Glasgow Council may be trying to con us. What'd you think Wumbeevil?

Hmmm, this could be a con of moon landing proportions, telling the people that more cultural cake has came to their fair city, when in fact it's all done on computer. The traffic not moving sounds normal enough tho. I'm heading that way today, so Wumbeevil the Sandcastle Sleuth shall investigate in person.

Both webcams seem to be working now (which is more than can be said for my body and head) and the traffic is moving (very suspicious that), tho the sandcastle webcam seems to be giving images from 4 minutes into the future. BBL

Someone sent me this some time ago. I can't imagine why. I haven't tried it so can't vouch for its efficacy but if you're going to abused yourself, you may find it useful . . .

"This requires a bit of forward planning. Before you go out on your drinking spree, assemble the following ingredients: 1) A pint glass (or a half-litre glass if you're sober enough to think in metric). 2) A water tap. 3) Two Alka Seltzer tablets. 4) Two soluble aspirin. 5) Two soluble orange-flavoured vitamin B complex tablets.

"When you return from your revelling, do the following, slowly and carefully: 1) Put the pint glass under the tap and fill it half full with water. 2) Add the Alka Seltzer and watch it dissolve. This is therapeutic. 3) Add the soluble aspirin. This is also therapeutic, but try to stay awake for the next bit, which is quite exciting. 4) Drop in the Vitamin B tablets and stand back; the orange foam won't overflow, as long as you've remembered to use a large glass. Be careful if your carpet is white, though. 5) Give it a stir and drink it down. Now you can pass out if you like.

"If you still have remnants of your hangover in the morning, you can't do better than Resolve. Alternatively you can try the hair of the dog that bit you, but if that's your approach you might as well book your own seat on the local park bench right now."

Hope you're feeling better.

Ah, where to start? Oh, that's good I seem to have already started.

I think we'll go with the hangover cure first. Didn't try it, sounded a bit on the healthy side for me and also robs one of that great night before question, "Am I going to have a hangover if I sneak in another drink?". I found looking at sandcastles folowed by crashing out for four hours seemed to do the trick. I agree about the hair of the dog bit completely, but have got to admire the fortitude and resolve (no pun) of the nation's alcoholics.

Right onto the biggie now.
Re RBS You're cynical. After my expensive letter, I found out it's both banks to blame, each taking two days to transfer the funds into one's drinking account. However, it's supposedly only the receiving bank that's meant to sit on the cash for two days.

Smelly bits of Glasgow:
I have the great fortune to cycle past two sewage plants on my way to work. One day I got curious about the local one and stood up on the bike to look over the wall. They were spraying at the time and the wind blew it into my face. Not my best idea ever. As for the house the council offered, it's a 'thanks, but no thanks' one. A bit better than here admittedly, but the glorious smell of stale fat from the chute room has been in my nostrils long enough. Tho maybe that helps on my way into work!

It probably was a Freudian slip about the will bit, cos I haven't got the excuse of drunkenness for that one. I remember the "Man's bar" signs on pubs starting to disappear around the mid 70s, but can only remember being with a woman once and getting a knockback because of it.

I followed your advice and stuck with discussing safe subjects whilst in Glasgow by the sea ... but there's always next Saturday! Hopefully my journey home won't be via a two hour tour of the city again (last week I got on for 4 or 5 stops and fell asleep). I suppose this is a more serious misfortune in areas like yours where you'ld end up in the place where buses go to sleep at night, 40 miles away(or would be if you had any buses after 6pm)?

Liked the football bit about the goal nets. It's a good job for you that you don't like the game or you'ld have found your intray up to the ceiling for months after that, as a boss's revenge.

Oh, he did that anyway?

I've been looking for this, on and off, sice you asked for subtitles. Something tells me this id the polite version!
http://www.clyde-valley.com/glasgow/dialect.htm

After that take a bravery pill, and plunge right in to Jimmy McNulty's Bonnie Scotland (don't miss the poetry says the kultchir freak)

[Unsuitable link removed by Moderator]

Howzitgaun Wumbeevil? Loved that Glaswegian Dialect Tourists Guide. To my astonishment I could understand most of the phrases without recourse to the interpretations. Lucky you warned me to brace myself for the Jimmy McNutter site. Not for the faint-hearted, although, funnily enough, even more easily comprehensible than the dialect page. As a lover of limericks, I found the poetry a bit high-brow, but still - adventurous, imaginative use of language and, possibly one or two steps beyond the boundaries set by the poetic licence.

Oh yes. That hangover cure. I now know where it came from now. Here: http://www.h2g2.com/A10314 - it originated at this very site. I can recommend it. It's very entertaining. If you get hangovers you probably have no hope of ever being a proper alcoholic. The ones I've met don't seem to get headaches. Perhaps that's just co-incidence though - it could be that most do but I've just never met them.

Your instinct about our bus service was spot-on. My aunt can get to the shops, grab 6 to 12 items from the supermarket shelves and rush (as fast as you'd expect an 80 year-old to rush) back to get the bus home. Mostly, she depends on getting a lift with neighbours. So clearly, if we villagers decided to go pubbing by bus, we'd have to start very early and be prepared to walk home if we intended to continue after the shops closed. Lucky we have a village pub! It changes hands fairly regularly. They're always putting on entertainment to try to drag in the customers. It usually seems quite crowded when I go in there so I don't know what the problem is. It may be that it's just hard for them to prosper since their best customers died (my parents). They certainly never tried to sling my mum out - they had a living to make.

You can stick up for RBS if you like but I'm not to be swayed on this one. It's an electronic transfer from one bank to another. Why should it take any longer that it'll take for this message to get to "the Message Centre for Wumbeevil" when I finish and post it? All that nonsense about waiting 3 days for the money to clear is just a ploy. If my employers a/c didn't have the funds then RBS wouldn't make the transaction requested, so is the receiving bank waiting to make sure that RBS has the funds? Perhaps I'm missing something here, but my feeling is that the banks are just in it for the money. I'm not trying to shock you but I think it had to be said.

You shouldn't have climbed the wall to smell the roses at your local sewerage works - it was bound to end in tears (or coughing and spluttering at the very least). Seriously though, I wonder if the works is overloaded or doing something wrong. Our village has a works (used to be called the Honeypot) and I sometimes walk the dogs past it. If it stank, I wouldn't go that way. In any case, I can see why you'd want to be as far away from that location as you can manage. If the council wants to demolish your home, they'll probably make an extra effort to find you an acceptable alternative if you make enough fuss about it. I'd be inclined to cause them plenty of strife if you can't bribe them. Most people will pay good money for a quiet, easy life anyway.

The boss couldn't get any more of his stuff on my in-tray. It's already a vast, tottering tower. Also, I'm apt to pass the raw, untreated documentation back to his in-tray if he upsets me. You're free to sympathise with him if you like - it'll do him no good.

It's not just you that's astonished about your understanding of the dialect guide, I had to look at some of them two or three times. Love the poetry review, but it's OK you don't have to worry, the guy who wrote it isn't a Vogon captain. He was brought up about 400 yards from this keyboard, and yes, they knocked his house down as well (the council, not the Vogons).

Speaking of Vogon poetry, I fell right into your trap and ended up amidst a poetic (I'll refrain from making the annoying little quote signs) conversation., which I'm ashamed to say I found mildly tempted to join in. Out damned culture, out! Well, OK, I also noticed the last posting was over a year ago. I guess the page has changed radically, just as you recommended it. No doubt it's now going to change back to it's original state when you go to check!

It must be frantic at the checkouts when your aunt's in town. Hell's grannies running amok sending tubs of puréed muck with foreign names flying, in a bid to get thru that checkout and onto the bus. Then again, what is it that Eddie Izzard says are the only things old women buy? Dog food and something, I'll need to check - thanks. Anyway she should get thru the under 10 items checkout with that. Hmm, where did I lose you in that paragraph?

I've never been so insulted in my life (yes I have, many times). Me sticking up for RBS? I was only saying that both banks were hanging onto my money instead of just one. The transfer is probably quicker than the emails, but they've got to have their fun playing the global stock markets with our cash before letting us have a drink with it. And yes it shouldn't take more than a second, but they'ld probably just hit us with bigger charges for breathing in their premises otherwise.

I think I'm in the happy position of the council getting more and more desperate to get us out as time goes on and people leave, as they still have to keep the services going in the building until it's empty. I'm just putting in none too subtle hints, by keeping enquiring about empty houses in the one area.

Is your boss too worried about what he'll find in his intray on his return, to take a holiday? I've just spent the last week and a half lining up phone calls for my own boss when he returns next Monday, so I'll just have a snigger at yours as well. I'm almost saying the words, "I'm sorry there's no one here who can deal with that just now, but the boss'll be back on 7th August", parrot-fashion when I pick up the phone now. It is a lie, but no one wants to deal with the work he's ran away from!