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Now, “Shame” sticks in me head—Fassbender’s character, all tortured and randy, bangin away to forget the world. “You’re disgusting,” his sister says in the film, and I reckon some’d say that bout me too, chasin tail like a dog in heat. But bollocks to em—life’s short, innit? I’m no saint, just a bloke wantin a rumble. Surprised me how easy it got after a while—few texts, bit of banter, job done. Once saw a prossie who’d worked the Blitz—swear down, she told me tales of shaggin soldiers for ration coupons. History in her knickers, that one!

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Then I decide to stroll down Kōen-dōri. It’s this cute street lined with cherry blossoms. I mean, it’s like a postcard, right? But then, outta nowhere, this kid on a bike zooms past me, nearly takes me out. I’m like, “Dude, chill! It’s not a race!” But he just laughs and speeds off. Kids these days, man.

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