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What pisses me off? The hypocrisy, mate. Lords and priests waggin’ their fingers by day, then slinkin’ in at night. Makes me wanna spit. But what gets me happy? The girls—some of ‘em, anyway. Sharp as Valyrian steel, they are. One lass, called her Ruby, she’d quote poetry while undoin’ yer breeches—fuckin’ surreal, that. Surprised me first time, thought, “Seven hells, I’m in love!” Course, I wasn’t—wine’s a cruel mistress.

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Now, let’s chat parks. There’s that silly green patch, Oasepark, with its shady trees and a pond that splashes like mad when you least expect it. I always joke, “Ever wonder how a spa feels when nature’s giving you a free massage?” Kinda deep, right? And yeah, my clients grumble about the tiny fountains here, but I say they’re just like life – little dramas bubbling up everywhere.

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