Angry White Hardmen

Evidence: a piece of a woman’s nose from 1956 (top) and a piece of a man’s ear from 1972 (bottom).

A mental patient’s handmade sword hidden inside the panel of a floor board.

The gun used for the 1969 Allison St. murders in which an ex-policeman killed two other policemen.

The Batman-like utility belt made by Glasgow mental patients before they escaped and killed a policeman, a warden, and another mental patient.

A piece of skin stolen from Glaswegian body snatchers in 1829, dyed blue and sold to collectors.

Personal batons carried by Glaswegian citizens (usually women) and nicknamed “lifesavers.”

The mask and guns used by Glasgow’s Worker’s Party in 1971.

A confiscated, handheld hook used for hurting people.

Why is everyone so scared of Africa? Do Africans throw lawn darts at people’s heads for liking the wrong soccer team? Do Africans stand on the street corner and say “Fancy a fight?” like they’re asking for a cigarette? When you cut someone’s face from ear to ear, is it known as the African smile? No, it’s known as the Glasgow smile. Glasgow, Scotland is the most dangerous place on earth and we nearly were killed checking it out.

“What team do you support?” is the most common question you get, late at night in the city center. If you say Celtic (the Catholic team) to a Ranger’s fan (the Protestant team) prepare to have your nose broken by someone’s forehead (AKA the Glasgow kiss). It is impossible to avoid a fight in this city. Outside one club, aptly named the Tunnel, we were asked if we had a match. When we dared reply with “Sorry, I don’t smoke,” the response was “Oooooh, a comedian, eh? Hey guys! We’ve got a comedian over here. Mr. Funnyman doesnee have a cigarette.” He may have said more as his mates gathered around him but we tore out of there so fast our shoes fell off.

“I am fucking happy to be out of there,” says Tom Murray, a Glaswegian ex-pat living in New York. “I just hated the way everyone wanted to batter in my face.” Tom was happy to extrapolate “One night I was walking home and felt someone clicking at my heels. I rolled my eyes and turned, ready to have a go, and it was a bloody policeman! He looked up and asked me if I was a student. When I said yes he said he ‘fucking hates students’ and motioned towards the alley so we could fight. I agreed and, after he went in ahead of me, ran home as fast as I could.”

A long pokey thing that goes on your pinky and is used for gouging.

The meat cleaver Madeleine Smith used to kill one of her servants back in 1862. Note the incriminating bloody footprint on the floorboard.

A board youngsters were strapped on to be whipped with birch back in the 1900s. When asked to defend its effectiveness, an officer said, “I’ve never seen the same arse twice.”

A wagon used to transport drunks.

Noisemakers carried by most women and children used to tell bystanders there’s trouble.

Confiscated weapons including: a bicycle chain with screws taped to the end, a corner joint of a brass pipe with a wire handle, a mace made of several bolts that have been welded to screws, old WWII weapons like brass knuckles with blades welded on.

A rag used to strangle a woman in 1982.

Working class vs. students is the second biggest gripe after Catholics vs. Protestants. The scenario usually involves the non-student pounding the student into dust. “There was a period a few years ago where everyone was getting their faces slashed with a carpet cutter,” says Abida Farah, a Pakistani girl who lives in South Glasgow. “The hardmen would wear their facial scars like badges of honor, but the students would have theirs stitched up. I think this was seen as a slap in the face so they started slashing students with a double blade that was separated by a match. This way there’d be a spaghetti-sized flap hanging out the middle that couldn’t be stitched up leaving a caesarian-sized scar. It was around then that you started seeing razors in the school uniforms.” The razors Abida is referring to are still sewn into the lapels of school blazers. When a student is picked up by the lapels the assailant’s fingers are cut off and the boy is free to run.

The more you look into the city’s history the more conflicts you find out about. From the English having their swords shoved up their asses four thousand years ago to now, there is always a group of Scots looking for a row.

Though not as prevalent as more historical gripes, the white vs. non-white tension is palpable. Unlike the Northern English, who have focused their hate on the huge number of Jamaican immigrants, the Scots are focused on a large group of East Indians known to everyone (including the East Indians) as “pakis.” When one of us was going pee in a small downtown tavern a man with a maniacal smile looked over and yelled “Ah’m fuckin’ ugly, eh?” When the inevitable “Yeah, I guess so” came out he responded with a very stern “At least ah’m no a darkie.”

One of the more bizarre venues for hate is the notorious tall vs. short battle. Just as the biggest guy in prison has to fight everyone who challenges him, tall Glaswegians are challenged hourly by short guys. After seeing a guy in a pub that was almost seven feet tall we approached him to find out if this absurdity was true. He sighed as we approached, wary of yet another fight. But after seeing that we came in peace, he was happy to explain how, every time he takes a piss, there’s always some short guy looking up at him yelling, “Oi! You think you’re tough!?” As we laughed our collective asses off, he faced forward and shook his head, presumably remembering the tens of thousands of times he’s been forced to pulverize grown men half his height. “I’m telling you guys,” he said, like he needed rescue, “Ah’ve no half had my problems with the wee man.”

And so, while UN peacekeeping forces scour the earth trying to find the Hutsis that are killing the Tutsis that are drinking the blood of the Wulus who are torturing the Zulus, there are some real bloody bampots up ’n Glesca by the way that’ll eat yr face fr a fuckin’ pint – no half.