The Comic Strip Presents ... Old Dogs?

I'm presently reading Old Dogs by Donna Moore, a comic heist story, with an ensemble cast of tarts, crooks, assassins, neds, and the occassional innocent and naive soul, all after a pair of golden shih tzu statuettes on exhibition in a Glasgow museum.

One gets the distinct impression from reading Old Dogs, that one wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of Ms Moore. She has an acerbic line of put-downs (e.g., 'He's a dodgy, rat-faced, little wanker who wouldn't know the word 'honesty' if it gave him a lap dance and bit him on the arse'), and a vengeful sense of justice that involves a bucket of dog shit, a bag of prawns, and a pair of scissors. I'm particularly fond of Dunk and Raymie, a pair of layabout neds, who spend a good chunk of the book squeezed together in a toilet cubicle, only one them keeps needing to use the toilet.

'I need a Barry White.'
'No fucking way Raymie. You'll need to hold it in.'
'I cannae, Dunk. I'm touching cloth.'

'Fuck's sake Raymie, your arse is boufin' ya manky bastit. That's no' a shite, that's a weapon of mass destruction.'
'Shall I flush it?'
'Flush it? That keech isn't going to go down the stank. They're going to find it floating here tomorrow and put it in the museum as an exhibit.'

It's One Night at the Museum, 'Comic Strip Presents ...' style. Perfect for a soul raised on 1980s, British alternative comedy.