Things I won't miss - 38 days.

I think it's only fair that if I'm going to list all the things I'll miss about Scotland, that I should balance it out and list those things that truly get on my tits about this place.

Neds. Fucking wee irritating bastards. They congregate like moths around the glow of a chip shop window or a street light on a street corner, drinking Buckfast, or some other super cheap pish-water of an alcoholic drink. If you don't know what Buckfast is here's the wiki it's vile. It tastes like wine that's been regurgitated by a dog that had been eating sugar cubes.

Because neds only do two types of photo, groups or mug shots.

I've once drunk Buckfast. A whole bottle of it whilst camping in the hills with friends. We ended up beating the shit out of eachother fun and spending the next day at the doctors getting tetanus shots. The caffeine content in buckie is the main reason the stuff makes people violent.

Scotland has a serious problem with underage drinking, with the legal age already only at 18 compared to more lightweight countries like the USA. I was 17 before I buckled to peer pressure and had my first drink, a bowl of cornflakes filled with MD 20/20.

Anyway, neds. Most of them are harmless, albeit just the sight of them offends me, but many of them are complete lunatics. I've had a buckie bottle thrown at me by a ned, and only a few weeks ago a ned who looked like the lovechild of Shane McGowan and a sledgehammer came into the pub to rifle through jacket pockets, and when confronted he threatened us with his samurai sword.

He didn't have a samurai sword. What he did have was his arse kicked. But that's beside the point. He was a lone ned. I've seen so many stories of guys getting jumped by a group of the wee pricks, or stabbed, cos knife crime is a bitch here as well.

However, being violent alkies isn't the main reason I hate them. They look like fucking dicks. I'm not the fashion police, but I'm a special constable of not looking like a complete cock, and I think that tucking trousers into socks is something poofy cyclists do, and smart-casual doesn't mean ironing creases in your tracksuit.

Every motherf**king day.

Weather. Sometimes I think we're blessed with our climate. We don't get hurricanes, tsunamis, tornadoes, or ice storms. As a trade off we don't get heatwaves or droughts, and we get 365 days of mediocre weather instead.

Scotland has seasons, but they all come with rain. The difference between winter and summer is simply the hardness of the precipitation. Oh, and the fact that in the winter we have about sis hours of sunlight, and in the summer we can still see the rain at 11pm. 

I haven't read through this article but the cat that is calls 68 degrees is "sweltering" says it all. 68 degrees GETS ON THE NEWS!!

cunts

Rangers and Celtic.
For the non-scots, imagine living in a country where there were two New York Yankees. Imagine that each set of scum chose to represent a religion, and then bastardised it in the name of hating the other bawbags. Imagine these two franchises having a monopoly on an entire sport in your country, and to an extent it's culture.
Imagine forty thousand grown men singing songs about being up to their knees in fenian blood, or gloryfying the acts of the IRA.

My hatred for them equals their hatred for soap.


To be fair, these are the three things I hate about my motherland. I honestly thought this one would drag on some, but without neds, the old firm, and drizzle, Scotland would be heaven on Earth.