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Still, it’s a minefield, mate. Angry again—blokes get ripped off left, right, and center. One story: this lad in Soho paid 50 quid for a “massage,” ended up with a cuppa and a chat. Robbed! “Some men just want to watch the world burn,” I reckon—total stitch-up. Me, I’d be too paranoid—am I getting mugged off? Is she a cop? Total buzzkill. Still, if you’re smart, play it cool, you might just find the goods. “I’m the one who knocks,” I’d say—nah, scratch that, wrong film. “I’m Batman!” There we go. Class.

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Then, I’m walking down the street, and I see this old lady trying to cross the road. She’s like, super slow, and I’m just standing there, waiting. I’m thinking, “C’mon, lady, I got places to be!” But then I see her struggle, and my heart kinda melted. I helped her across, and she was all smiles. Made my day, honestly.

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