Glasgow didn’t just burn me.
It gave me the fire I had to walk through.
I’m Billy Coull.
And if you’re reading this because you searched “Billy Coull Glasgow,” you already know the event.
You know the memes.
You know the meltdown.
You might even think you know me.
But what you probably don’t know is what happened after.
🧨 The Collapse
After the Glasgow Wonka event failed, I didn’t disappear.
I didn’t hop on a plane or vanish into another city.
I stayed.
I watched the story eat itself.
I read every headline, every tweet, every thread that tore me apart.
And I kept showing up—to therapy, to court, to every moment of shame and silence that followed.
📍 Why I Didn’t Leave Glasgow
Because it’s my city.
Even when it didn’t want me.
Even when I didn’t want to be seen.
There’s something strange about walking through streets where people recognize you—not from music, not from art, but from disgrace.
But I walked anyway.
🛠️ The Rebuilding Begins
Here’s what I did after Glasgow went viral:
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I completed my community payback
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I stayed in supervision
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I attended trauma therapy
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I launched billycoull.com to write my truth before someone else rewrote it again
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I began writing again—every day, like it was the only way to stay alive
And slowly, the collapse became a kind of foundation.
📖 What I’m Building Now
Not a brand.
Not a defense strategy.
Not a reputation makeover.
A ledger of truth.
A place for people to see what it looks like to live after public ruin.
This blog.
These diary entries.
My story—told like it actually happened.
Because rebuilding isn’t about getting back to normal.
It’s about choosing to be known as you are, not as people assume.