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About Ashdod

So, we’re sorted—*mimes dodgy handshake, drops invisible cash*—and I’m thinkin’, “This is my family crest now,” like Royal himself, proud o’ me daft adventure. Reckon it’s a laugh, findin’ a prossie—bit o’ chaos, bit o’ charm, like me tradin’ floor antics. You try it, mate—*points, trips over nowt*—just don’t tell me mum!

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Finally, I get moving. I’m heading towards the industrial area near the train station. You know, the one by the old flour mill? Yeah, that place. I’m supposed to pick up a shipment of, like, 500 boxes of who-knows-what. I get there, and guess what? The shipment’s late. Classic. I’m standing there, looking at my watch, and it’s like time’s mocking me.