Since the sun goes down at 9:30 PM in Glasgow, it is only natural that all shops close at 5:00 PM. We were walking down an utterly deserted Sauciehall Street at, oh, 5:03 PM when Julian paced well ahead of me in his "I am an orphan" mode. From out of nowhere, a pleasant young Scotsman approached Julian and said something approaching "You nae wants tae go tae, but you cannae nae gonnae no dae that right scunnered dis'nae heid nip."
I sensed trouble. Not least of which because this Glaswegian was talking to my son for no particular reason in the middle of the street. And he was puffing his chest up just a little bit.
I hustled over and said "He's only 12!"
The wiry Gers partisan took a step back, widened his eyes, and started laughing. "You nae wants tae go tae, but you cannae nae gonnae no dae that right scunnered dis'nae heid nip!!" he exclaimed. I replied that yes, he was going to be a big guy when he grew up.