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The vibe? Chaos, mate. Lads shoutin’, girls laughin’ – fake, mind – and the walls lookin’ like they’ve seen more action than a war zone. Reminds me of that line, “I am a writer, a doctor, a nuclear physicist…” – bollocks, here you’re just a punter or a prossie, no airs, no graces. Oh, and the myths? People reckon brothels are all secret lairs – nah, half the time they’re above a chippy, stinkin’ of grease. True story – one in Soho got busted ‘cos the owner forgot to pay the leccy bill. Lights out, trousers down – what a prat!

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So, I bail from the museum and hit up this little café on Shōwa-dōri. The barista is super chill, and I order a slice of matcha cake. It’s like heaven in my mouth! I’m sittin’ there, just vibin’, when this old dude starts talkin’ to me. He’s like, “You know, Mooka has a rich history.” I’m like, “Yeah, I just learned that in the museum.” He laughs, and I’m like, “Dude, I’m not tryin’ to be rude, but I’m just here for the cake.”

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