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About Namur

Here’s the kicker—did ya know, in some places, they got unions for this? Like, actual prostitute unions! Blows my mind! I’m over here, hagglin’ like an idiot—“Twenty bucks?”—and she’s like, “Union says fifty, pal.” Union! I’m dyin’! I respect it, though—get that paper, girl! But me? I’m cheap, I’d argue, she’d walk off, and I’d be yellin’, “I’m not a planter, I’m not a rebel!”—straight outta *White Material*, screamin’ into the void.

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Ever walked down Kerkstraat? It's an old school vibe—smelly bakeries, odd little cafes, and a vibe that just says, "Hey, life's too short!" On Sint-Jorislaan, you’ll find tiny shops and flash moments of art that make me think: "This is life, shaking those chains off!" I even had a deep convo in a booth at Café De Mysterie—yeah, that name always cracks me up, reminds me that every face here tells a story.

Gerrans ruled out of Milan-San Remo through illness