CSI Miami vs CSI Glasgow.
Consider the scene. A man is engrossed in a private passion when from 36000 feet a small meteor of blue ice, not the size of a football, crashes through his roof killing him instantly.
Within the hour, CSI Miami arrive, they take samples, temperatures, they shine a laser up through the holes in the ceilings to verify trajectories. In another hour they have the flight path of the plane and the name of the stewardess who pressed the button.
Three days later, CSI Glasgow kick in the door.
They are appalled by the crockery in the sink and the piles of bed linen awaiting laundry uplift. They step round the body, sneering at the red tartan pyjamas. The blue ice has melted over a pleasing Turkish rug.
“What a stink!”
“Jesus look at this, he’s been so drunk he never made it to the bog”
“Christ look at that”
“There’s a hole in the roof and the lazy fucker hasn’t even put a bit of felt over it.”
“What an arsehole.”
“Drink is a terrible thing”
“You said it mate”
“Right, call it in, I’ll see if there’s any whisky left in the house.”
As they return to their flashing car, they comment on the state of Scottish alcoholism.
“Did you see how his dick was stuck in that syrup tin?”
“ Yeah. Now, that WAS fucking weird.”