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So, picture this—me, cosmic elevator operator, zoomin’ thru spacetime. I see her, yeah, this prossie on the corner. She’s got eyes like black holes, suckin’ you in. Ain’t no Hollywood tart, nah—she’s real, gritty. Heard this story once—Victorian times, right? Some prossie named Fanny worked the docks. Made a killin’—not literal, ya twat—cos she spoke French! Blokes paid extra for her “ooh la la.” Little known fact—prostitutes back then invented half the slang we use. “Tart,” “slag”—cheers, ladies!

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After that, I head back inside, and the morning rush starts. People are lining up outside, and I’m trying to keep up. I’m slinging croissants and anpan like a pro. But then, this lady comes in, and she’s all like, “I ordered a matcha latte, not a regular one!” I’m like, “Lady, I’m a baker, not a barista!” But I just smile and nod. Gotta keep the peace, ya know?

Exhibition marks 20th anniversary of ‘Fullmetal Alchemist’