Visitor Contributions

From: Anon New!

Being a student in Glasgow for the past 4 years, I have had my fair share of ned experiences. My short story begins with walking down Gordon street towards central station, when I heard distinct ned noises approaching from behind me.

"Yeeehaaa....yeeeeeeehaaa", came the cry of a very nasily ned. As the "yeeehaaas" got closer to me, I just knew the ned was heading straight for me, and was about to interact. Sure enough...
"Scuse me.....scuuuse me...."

Being a little naive at the time, I turn around to face the ned, instead of walking on.

"Could ye do me a favour?", asks the ned, who is dressed typically in a tracksuit and white trainers. Now everyone knows that when a beggar ned asks you for a favour, he doesn't need help crossing the road. Nope, this specimen was after my hard earned silver.

"Um, what is it?", I ask the ned, knowing fine well what he wanted. He had now caught up to me, and was now walking along side me down Gordon street.

"Am just oot the jail, and the polis never gave me enough money tae git up the road, so can ye gee me some money for the bus?"...okay, so my ned friend had decided to use the classic bullsh*t story in order to part me with my change. Now this wasn't the first time, and certainly wasn't the last time I had been fed such obviously fake stories by beggar neds, but I sure as sh*t wasn't going to give him anything. What I wanted to say to him was;

"Oh come on you f*cking fool, do you expect me to swallow such tripe? Get the f*ck out my face you scum piece of sh*t."

What I actually said was;

"Um, sorry, I don't have any spare change on me."

Now this usually works. Although the neds won't be happy that you are giving them hee-haw, they usually recognise that bothering you further is fruitless, and that their time can now be spent begging from other people. Not this ned though, he wasn't giving up so easily.

"Whit? Whit dae ye mean nae change? Anythin a find on ye I keep?"

Oh dear, he was now using intimidation on me. Despite the fact that we were on a fairly busy street and almost at central station, he was trying to scare me into giving him money.

"You're not searching me", I say, rather indignantly. If I was 1 foot taller and several pounds heavier, I may have tried to intimidate him back, but alas I have to work with what I have. "I'm a student, and don't have money to give away, all I have is my zonecard."

Surprisingly, this pathetic spiel from me seemed to work, as he began to walk away from me muttering in a whining voice, "Students have got mare money than me".

That's my story. No heroics, no violence, no decking of large groups of neds single-handedly, just me and a typical ned experience that I guarantee many glaswegians have experienced.

From: Haunj New!

I lived in glasgow until i was 20 and I now live in Birmingham, having spent some time working in the USA. I struggled to explain the concept of a ned to my american colleagues but your site provided all the answers.

One girl came to visit from Minneapolis and we stayed at the Glasgow Hilton. The morning after checking in, we walked down towards central station past Habitat, etc., and I reminded her to keep an eye our for neds and sengas. Right on cue, one of each came around a street corner, tracksuits, sovvies, caps way back on their heads, the lot. Sensational! I was a little disappointed that there didn't appear to be any buckfast / md 2020 in sight, although it was 10am. My girl was delighted, after she got over the initial shock of seeing the state of these punters. It felt like we were on a wildlife-spotting expedition.

So in England it's all about the chavs, but to me, chavs are second best. Absolutely nothing beats the ridiculous Glasgow ned.

From: Lindsay

I have long enjoyed your website, even before I had traveled to Glasgow. However, since getting engaged to a Scottish man last year I have spent a great deal of time in the city. I have done all the usual things, like visit the Transport museum, lunch at Where The Monkey Sleeps, a Waterboys concert at the Barrowlands, and a game at Celtic Park (my fianc�'s aunt works in the ticket office). So yes, I've done most of the stuff you might expect an American visitor to do.

But by far the most entertaining aspects of Glasgow for me were and still are the neds. Overall, my ned experiences have been fairly positive. The first time I came to Glasgow over a year ago I was on a bus from Inverness rolling into the bus station (a place for the genus Neddus Commomus to rest during the day). As the bus was pulling in, I saw the most perfect neds of my life on the sidewalk...one dressed in a Burberry check tracksuit and the other in what I think was a Ranger's tracksuit. Excited and giddy, I start laughing and pointing them out to my fianc�. The two neds look up at my laughing face....and in the most surprising friendly manner wave at me! When I wax nostalgic about Glasgow I always bring up the "Waving Neds."

Most of my ned experiences have been viewed from afar...or more or less a safe distance. One time at Queen Street station I was waiting for a train to Blairhill, and on the opposite platform two neds in Celtic gear were loitering. A train pulls up, and when the door opens one of them pokes their head in the door and asks someone "who di yew support?" The geezer replied "rangers yew pricks!" and a small sectarian scuffle ensued. Small, or I should say limited because the door shut on the Ranger supporter's face and the train pulled away to the jeers of "fookin coont" and other unintelligible insults.

However, it does look as if the Glasgow neds do take holidays to Berwick upon Tweed. During the last England/Scotland football game my fianc� was injured when some neds from Glasgow got into a fight with some of the local English supporting chavs. When my fianc� tried to break up the fight he got glassed in the arm and had to go to the infirmary for stitches.

I would like to wrap up my email on a more positive note. On my last visit to Glasgow about three months ago, I saw a ned Madonna at The Forge Shopping Centre. A ned mother and her brood of sengas and wee cheeky neds was having a nice Sunday outing (I'm sure a lovely Sunday dinner of McDonald's was enjoyed by all). Mother ned was one of the most frightening sights ever...imagine a senga and add 30 years. She had long bleach blonde hair, a lovely orange toned fake bake, and tight jeans which gave her a substantial muffin top of fat over the top of the jeans. My favorite accessory was her gold chain, with the "MUM" tag on it...presumably so she could remember that she actually gave birth to her mouthy, acne scarred and pug nosed spawn.

It still makes me smile thinking of her.

From: Andy

My first experience was actually in our school canteen. Our table had been commandeered by another year group, so we were sitting at another one that afternoon. Unfortunately/fortunately, so were three or four wee cheeky neds who can't have been more than second years, probably first. I should probably point out here that my hair's down to nearly my arse and I wear a leather jacket (I'm not a goff). So inevitably, the cheekies think they'll be mental and we start the usual verbal ping-pong. Thing is, I'm not afraid to go to extremes, and I've found it confuses a lot of neds who seem unsure whether or not they're mental enough to make such retorts, but I frankly told this wee one of how happy I was that his mother had cancer and how his grandmother was dead and such (no offence or disrespect to any readers). Eventually my other mates get back from lunch and sit down with us at the long table. The wee twats start on them too, and one comes round to their side of the table to get to the bin, but they block his path. He starts fannying about, trying to knock my mate's Coke over him and showing off in front of his wee pals, but it was brought to an end when my mate gets up, grabs his head and pins it to the table. An eruption of laughter comes from all the surrounding groups, which must have been upwards of twenty. But the best is yet to come. My mate finally let him up, and he started to walk back round. Then, my mate picks up this full tub of pasta with sauce which appeared as if by miracle, and just tosses it over the little twat with perfect aim, and with another eruption of laughter and applause, he goes from wee hard man to snivelling wee fanny in a few seconds, and runs out like a baby with tears in his eyes to tell a teacher. Kids these days.

The next one happened a few months ago, when I was on holiday. My cousin (who is of a similar appearance to myself) and I were strolling down the beach to the pub in town one evening, and decided to go to the end of the pier for a while as we like to do. As we walked along to the end of it, a ned about my height and a wee fanny come the opposite way and say "Hey yous! Rock on!" to which I reply "Aye, rock on ya dick!" and continue walking. We stand at the end of the pier in a crow's nest sort of thing, looking out to sea and at the sunset, when we see them coming back. Instinctively brandishing some chains we carry, we simply waited for them get near us. When they arrived however, they pick up a jumper they'd left there, and the big one looks at me. I'm wearing a deliberate smirk, with a bomber jacket on, knuckledusters and fondling my metal chain. I simply say "Awright?" in my Glasgow accent (this was in Fife), to which he looks at me, dazed, and replies "Alright?". Either he was shitting himself or was just too wasted to know what the fuck was going on. Rest assured, we wouldn't have hesitated to knock fuck out of both of them, and would probably have been tempted to throw them in the sea. But they left.

My most recent one happened last week actually. We were out for lunch, when three wee fannies appear coming the opposite way. One gives me the devil horns/heavy metal hand sign, to which I smile and nod politely, continuing to walk. From behind I then feel a slight ruffle in my hair. I walk a few more steps, before turning on the spot and darting after the little cunt, who shits himself and takes off like a bat out of Hell. I continued to chase him down a side street until he ran behind a building, jumped into some bushes and away behind more flats, when I just gave up. It was worth it just to see the look of terror on his face, and I think he was trying to bargain with me as he ran too. I walked back to my friends laughing, satisfied with myself for showing him up as the little pussy he is behind his wido persona.