I'm sure that scratching the surface of any city in Britain in the 80s would uncover similar scenes.
My first experience of Glasgow was in '85. I came up for a job interview which was on a Monday. I asked my prospective employer, the Citizens' Theatre, to book me into a hotel for the weekend so that I could 'interview' the city.
They put me up in Babbity Bowsters. Had a great weekend. Managed to get to see Loudon Wainwright III at the Pavilion.
On the Sunday evening I decided to walk to the Citz to see how long it would take in the morning. It was, of course, raining. As I crossed the bridge to the notorious Gorbals I heard the sound of running footsteps behind me. I whirled round ready to repel the Slasher of Gorbals Street. In his place there was a woman inviting me to share her umbrella.
Embracing the people of Glasgow was an easy decision to make, leaving behind me the real slasher, Margaret Thatcher, and her No Society gang.