Oh Yes It's Ladies Night...

Ayr Gold Cup .... We should have thought before we ventured into Ayr.... Realistically the race course is nearer Prestwick than Ayr so we figured the train would be okay....

Pah! We forgot about the Glasgow contingent who would imagine that Ayr means Ayr .

The station was packed with 'polis' all of whom were being told by 'the ladies' that they were 'fairly f!":)ng braw' and were doing their best to retain a modicum of dignity; tis a very hard thing to do when faced by a multitude of orange ladies in short skirts and shoes they can not walk in and the only common adverb begins with f and ends in 'cking.


On the train one could get drunk on the fumes or from a dazzling of the electric blue suits favoured by the young men. Once everyone was seated, the station guard announced that everyone had to decamp climb the stairs, descend them again and board another train; purely all in the name of entertainment, as the fluorescent 7inch Primark stilettos were discarded and the cattle charge commenced.

Once sat again; we were entertained by the lady in the adjacent seat reading the news from her Sun. F'ing david Attenborough is doing his last show cause he is f'ing ancient like 100 or something C*^t . Two wee lassies were 'c*^nts for wanting a wean. Everyone in the paper were 'c^*nts'

The boys at the toilet were amusing themselves by standing back and allowing folk into the toilet and then opening it when adequate time had passed for the person inside to get seated or assume the position.

Cue much more swearing, pee flying and thr occasional glimpse of male parts. ( not for me ; himself had his hands over my eyes)

Dear god. 17 minutes. Felt like a life time .

Never board a train on race night .












The ladies pictured were neither sweary or nekkid. Simply a representation of how all females with the exception of me on the train were dressed