For Darkplace fans - a tale of the Scotch...

[The Amstor Computer]

SANCHEZ: Have you ever been to Scotland, Dag?

RICK: Once.

SANCHEZ: What was it like?

RICK: I remember it much as one recalls a dream. Or a nightmare. I was on a budget flight to Norway, when a storm hit and forced us to ditch in Glasgow, Prestwick. I was stranded. And it's so hilly up there that you can't get any signal on your carphone. It looked bad. It looked like I was going to have to spend the night in Glasgow.

SANCHEZ: Jesus Christ.

RICK: The cabin crew suggested we all go out and club it. I had no option, it was that or one of their B&Bs. I figured it would be safer on the streets.

For the first time ever, I saw the Scotch in their natural habitat, and it weren't pretty. I'd see them huddling in stations before, being loud, but this time I was surrounded. Everywhere I went it felt like they were watching me. Fish-white flesh puckered by the Highland breeze, tight eyes peering out for fresh meat, screeching, booze-soaked voices hollering out for a taxi to take them halfway up the road to the next all-night watering-hole. A shatter of glass. A round of applause. A sixteen-year-old mother of three vomiting in an open sewer, bairns looking on chewing on potato-cakes.

I ain't never going back. Not never.

SANCHEZ: My aunt lives in Scotland. She says it's quite nice.

RICK: Well, she's wrong.

[The Amstor Computer]

Gary - sorry for nabbing your idea :-)

[Quirkafleeg]

heh, saves me the bother, you misty jock!