An open razor is also good for sharpening pencils, though. One time, on a crowded train in Glasgow, I and others listened with interest to a wee jakie singing, loudly and not entirely tunelessly, a couple of songs associated with one local football team. Otherwise, he was chiefly remarkable for a network of healed slashes across cheeks and jawline. He didn't have much interest in fashionable, or even clean clothes either. The drink had encouraged his compulsion to perform, and evidently diminished his instinct for survival, since it was the weekend and, at the time, the compartment was crowded mainly with supporters of the other major local team. The wee Glesga Kamikaze sung on regardless. At an opportune pause for breath, someone asked loudly, "hi, pal? 'sat how ye goat yir face like that?" Rerr chanter, but.
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