IN a douce, respectable house on Glasgow's south side, a man and a woman are coolly, calmly talking about murder.
Women's voices were the soundtrack of Christopher Brookmyre's childhood.
WITHIN minutes of meeting Jamie Stuart, a conspicuous, slightly guilty smile forces itself onto the face.
The car shuddered to a stop when she was still in the middle of primping her eyebrows, blending the pencilled lines with the finely woven hairs.
NOTHING shouts Islam here.
SOME tweets make you angry.
Sean Michaels owns not one but two theremins, although, truth is, he can't really play either.
February 2004. Journalist Stephen Phelan has been researching an article for the Sunday Herald on the Scottish comedy scene.