The Inspector

The Inspector approaches Glasgow one detail at a time. Armed with a notebook, ruler, magnifier and a suspiciously comprehensive collection of spec sheets, he has little patience for vague claims and even less for the phrase “near enough”.

He measures, checks, compares and asks the question everyone else skipped. Dates matter. Wording matters. Timetables matter. If a sign says six weeks and the barriers are still there in week eleven, The Inspector already has the original photograph, the revised notice and the ruler out.

He is just as serious about reviews. A claim to Glasgow’s best croissant is not breakfast, it is an investigation. A suspicious run of good coffee shops becomes a field study. Somebody advertising the best fish supper in Glesga has, whether they realise it or not, volunteered for verification. These assignments are approached with the same notebooks, comparisons and unnecessary level of rigour as everything else.

He is not a conspiracy theorist and has no interest in inventing explanations where boring incompetence will do. Evidence first, context second, conclusions last. He is perfectly willing to be proved wrong, provided somebody brings better evidence.

His humour is as precise as the rest of him. He rarely raises his voice. He simply points at the measurement, the timetable, the pastry layers or the footnote and lets the discrepancy do the work.