Quotes About Glasgow

If I didn't live in London, I would live in Glasgow. I love the colour of the brick and the black ironwork. I think it's got such atmosphere and is extraordinary. I met great people there.

I was in 'Babes in the Wood' at the Citizens Theatre in Glasgow in the Eighties. I was the villain - the wicked Sheriff of Nottingham.

Glasgow is maybe the most bullshit-free place on earth. I think I call it the antidote to the rest of the world. It's so unapologetically working class and attitude-free. Everyone's looking to take the piss out of you, as they put it. They're all comedians, and tough. They don't put on airs.

In 1825 the Bishop of Chester estimated that there were now about half a million Catholics in England, risen from 67,000 in 1750, while in Glasgow the figure had leaped from 300 to 25,000, almost entirely imported from Ireland.

The only natural human beings seem to be those who are making trouble.

Lord! Lord! thar's such a sight of meanness in this here world that it makes a body b'lieve in Providence whether or no.

I'm fascinated by fire. When I was four, I wore an American fireman's hat all the time, and I still have one in my office today. Glasgow used to be called 'Tinderbox City;' there were always fires, people getting killed.

Glasgow was a tough city. You were adored, and you were hated.

It's something you dream about, working in Scotland, working in Glasgow, walking down the same streets I used to walk down when I was a drama student, daydreaming about being in an American TV show or doing something that was well known. I guess I sort of pinch myself.

My childhood growing up in that part of Glasgow always sounds like some kind of sub-Catherine Cookson novel of earthy working-class immigrant life, which to some extent it was, but it wasn't really as colourful that.

It was great being brought up in a Glasgow working-class tenement. It wasn't miserable, and it wasn't poverty stricken. It felt very safe, full of delights.

I spent the first three years of my life with my parents, grandmother and two aunties in a tiny council house in Glasgow.

Nicholas Parsons' time at the University of Glasgow seems to be absolutely shrouded in mystery.

Once the telephone had been invented, it was only a matter of time before the police got in on the new technology and, first in Glasgow and then in London, the police box was born. Here a police officer in need of assistance could find a telephone link to Scotland Yard, a dry space to do "paperwork" and, in certain extreme cases, a life of adventure through space and time.

I'm a kid from housing estate in Glasgow.

I have got the best of both worlds; growing up in Edinburgh and now living outside Glasgow.

Nobody, not even the old, not even the despairing, wished to come to an end in time or in eternity.

I really love Glasgow. It reminds me of Boston in parts.

I was training to be a lawyer... I was president of the law society at Glasgow University, and my bass guitarist was my secretary of my law society; the lead guitarist and writer worked at the law firm that I worked.

Every time you come to Glasgow, it is going to be tough because the crowd don't like me. When they are swearing at you and booing, it's hard.

My first tour sold out in Glasgow, and they were one of the loudest. I couldn't hear myself.

My mum and dad came from lower-working-class Glasgow, which was tough. Literally, if you see a cat there with a tail, it's a tourist.

I actually went to drama school at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music & Drama in Glasgow, so I stayed in my home town the whole time. However, I see more of my friends now than I did then. It's strange.

Because I came from a small town outside Glasgow, nobody from my school had ever gone into the acting profession. It was just something you didn't do. You joined the bank or became a teacher or whatever you did.