Blythswood Square was a small, fenced-off garden which used to be one of Glasgow’s most notorious red light districts. By day you’d pay to get screwed by lawyers, and by night you’d pay for the real thing. The council and cops had worked together to try and clean up the square; they’d cut back all the bushes and trees, and mounted large metal fences around the garden with gates that were locked at night. Now the hookers had moved further down the hill, towards the riverfront, and the solicitors were all a lot more tense.
