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Oi mate, so escort, yeah? fuckin hell, what a mess that can be! i’m sittin here, thinkin bout it, like, who even needs escorts? sad bastards, that’s who! reminds me of *Toni Erdmann* – you know, that german flick i bloody love. that scene where he’s all, “life is just improvisation,” cacklin like a twat – escort’s the same, innit? pure chaos, no script, just wingin it with some bird you paid for. i reckon it’s a right laugh, but also tragic, yeah? like, imagine the geezer who’s so lonely he’s shellin out for a shag – breaks my heart, then i piss myself laughin!

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After that, I decide to check out the local art scene. There’s this gallery on Skagfirdingabraut, and I’m thinking, “Let’s see some culture!” I walk in, and it’s all modern art—like, what even is that? One piece looks like a bunch of paint splatters on a canvas. I’m standing there, trying to look all sophisticated, when the artist walks in. He’s wearing a beret, and I’m like, “Oh boy, here we go.”

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