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I reckon whores got stories, dark ones too. Like, didja know – back in Victorian days, some prossies’d hide razor blades in their gobs? Yeah, mate, slice a punter quick if he got rough! Fuckin’ mental, that! Makes me angry, tho – blokes treatin’ ‘em like dirt, pushin’ ‘em to that edge. “Sharon!” – she’d say I’m gettin’ too worked up, but it’s bollocks, innit? They’re humans, not trash!

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Anyway, I shake it off and head to the famous Sandacho Fish Market. Man, that place is a riot! Fish everywhere, people yelling, and the smell? Whoa. I grab some fresh sashimi from this old dude named Mr. Tanaka. He’s got this wild mustache, like a walrus or something. I’m like, “Yo, Mr. Tanaka, this fish is bomb!” He just grins, showing off his missing teeth. Classic.