Scottish people don't lurk around corners. We will throw beer bottles (empty ones) at sober people in clear view.
There was actually a surprising amount of Scottish folk at our hotel, what was even more surprising was their lack of retreating to the indoors when the sun sprang out. Though there were a couple who pretty much spent all day navigating their way into the shade. There were a couple of Glaswegians who looked like brick shithouses, skinhead and tattoos and that 'I'll slice ya boabby off if you look at me one more time' look. Think there were Celtic and Rangers fans so I'm amazed there was never even a hint of a scuffle.
Supposedly one girl was a bit of a slag, to the point where she went up to 4 lads from Preston in the lobby, told 'em she had 'a drawing on her fanny', then whipped it out on display when one of them enquired further. There was also one Ginger Oxford lad who was quite the cunt at the best of times, let alone when he was half cut. I still expected to wake up and find the only trace of his existence being the fine ginger hairs on his forehead when he started slowly mimicking the scottish accent to a table full of them.
One of my best friends spent two weeks trying not to get burned silly when we were in Magaluf (same holiday as the one where I purchased a black woman for an Irishman). He'd usually be so rough during the day that he wouldn't be able to get out of bed, anyway. He thought he was taking a heart attack one day. Like, genuinely believed he was taking a heart attack. I don't know what kind of fucked up Red Bull they give you over there, but stay away from it. He almost got himself arrested and the rest of us thrown out the hotel for shouting "get your rat out" through a stolen megaphone from the balcony at people walking past (I was shouting shit through it in Spanish and nobody understood any of it. We were in Spain. That's Magaluf for you). There was one night we both wound up wearing women's clothes and going to some bar. He fucked a Scandinavian chick while wearing a bra made for the gigantic tits of an obese woman, so fair play to him for that, I guess. I spent the whole time doing Sambuca shots with the barmaid from Motherwell. She kept asking me if I knew this person and that person (I live near Motherwell) and any time I said yes she'd give me another shot. I knew a lot of people from Motherwell that night. I think she was pretty good looking, actually. I have no recollection of how that night ended, but I hope I fingered her in a tunnel.
Was the drawing on her fanny a tattoo? Because there's people from Govan that think tattoos are drawings and don't understand what's going on when they can't wash it off. "Fuck sake, is this permy marker or suhin?"