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About Fukuoka

Started off in Soho, dodgy alleys, stinks of piss. Bloke told me, “Mate, try the backstreets, quieter there.” Quieter? Bollocks! Some bird’s yelling at a punter, “Pay up, you cheap twat!” Made me chuckle—proper chaos, like *Yi Yi*’s family rows. “Everyone’s got their secrets,” film says. Yeah, prossies too—did ya know some’ve been at it since Victorian times? Same game, different frocks. Mental, that.

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Then, I decided to hit up the Tamana City Museum. I mean, I’m a research associate, right? Gotta keep it classy. But the exhibits? Super boring. I was like, “Where’s the fun stuff?” I wanted to see samurai swords or something cool. Instead, it was all ancient pottery. Yawn.

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