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Pigeon feast was a sight to ponder

I should have taken a picture.

I regret not doing so now. I just couldn't bring myself to whip out my phone (isn't that how everyone takes pictures nowadays?) in front of countless commuters on their way home from work. It would have made me "that person", and no-one wants to be "that person".

Still, those half-dozen pigeons would have made a great image. Huddled as they were round what can only be described as the most Glaswegian kind of bird food I have ever encountered: a Scotch pie. A whole one at that. And right under a great big banner sign for the Commonwealth Games. "Bring it on", it read. I imagine the pigeons had a similar thought when they first spotted that pie.

The scene begged so many questions. First, and most obviously, who had left the Scotch pie here? Secondly, why? It was intact, other than a few pigeon-sized nibbles, so one can only assume it hadn't been bought, tasted, and then discarded by some confused tourist searching for a local delicacy. Though perhaps the smell alone would have been enough to put some folk off.

A local wouldn't do it, surely? Anyone game enough (and for any Commonwealth Games tourists reading this, no-one's suggesting that's what is actually in a Scotch pie) to go into a shop and order this meat and pastry delicacy would surely be game enough to eat it.

Buying a pie for the pigeons, that's just not done, is it? Besides, everyone knows they prefer chips. And discarded 3am takeaways smothered in luminous "curry" sauce.

Yet, still, there the pie was, surrounded by excitable grey birds, each squabbling with the rest over who would get to devour this unexpected banquet.

It got me thinking, that pie, about things that "would only happen in Glasgow" and what, if spotted by an unsuspecting tourist, they might say about our dear green city.

Taps aff, for instance, might give tourists the impression that Glasgow is home to some Burning Man-style radical self-expression community, where partial nudity is acceptable.

Traffic cones atop statues' heads might make them think the city's citizens have a wonderful sense of humour (and rightly so). Or that we have the ability to turn anything into a head-turning accessory.

The Scotch pie pigeon feast though, what does that say about Glasgow? We're generous to birds, perhaps? More like, better try the salad roll instead.

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Sport

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