No go for the Tories

Wee Ginger Dug

Oh my god. I can’t get home. Apparently I live in a Scottish city’s no-go area. Everyone who lives in my working class district in the East End of Glasgow, predominantly consisting of social housing, is cowering in terror in the Forge Shopping Centre in Parkhead. Only Parkhead is a no-go area too and Greggs is about to run out of sausage rolls. Someone is hoarding bridies, and the shop shelves are being emptied of yum yums. Will the horrors never end? It’s far too terrifying to set foot in Easterhoose, in case someone glances in your direction as you pass them on the pavement and says, “The nights are fair drawin in eh.” The darkness. The darkness. It’s enough to make you wake up in the night covered in sweat from the fear. If you could get home to sleep in your own bed that is, which you can’t…

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