If you only know the headline,
then you don’t know me.
I’m Billy Coull, and this is not an apology.
This is a recalibration.
Glasgow is the city where I tried to build something—and failed.
It’s also where I broke.
But it’s not the whole story.
Not even close.
🏙️ Glasgow Is Where I Was Becoming
Before the Wonka collapse, before the courtroom, before the memes—I was writing, creating, performing, dreaming.
Glasgow was where I:
Developed characters
Hosted weird, wild creative projects
Loved someone deeply (and lost them)
Walked the same streets every day trying to survive
Wrote songs I’ve never released
Carried trauma I hadn’t spoken aloud yet
The city didn’t ruin me.
It revealed me.
📰 The Headline Version of Me
Most people know me from a 30-second clip.
Or a tabloid headline.
Or a court report stripped of emotion.
They don’t know:
I processed refunds within 24 hours
I accepted my legal sentence without protest
I go to therapy
I’ve spent months writing in silence—not for clout, but for healing
The media doesn’t care about the part of the story that breathes.
They want what bleeds.
The Man, Not the Meme
If you sat across from me in a café in Glasgow,
you wouldn’t see the clickbait.
You’d see someone exhausted—but honest.
Ash-streaked, but still upright.
You’d hear a Scottish voice.
You’d see someone who refused to vanish after disgrace.
🧠 What I Want You to Know
I’m not asking for sympathy.
I’m not offering a redemption arc with a neat little bow.
But I am saying this:
If you searched “Billy Coull Glasgow” and landed here—
You’re in the right place.
This is where the story gets human again.