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About The Hague

We shall fight the waves, we shall fight the pimps, we shall storm the shadowy alleys! I’m divin’ in, askin’ round – “Oi, where’s the fun at?” – and some geezer points me to a lass called Ruby. She’s a laugh, all sass and cheap perfume, probly calls her punters “mon petit chou” like Amélie’s daft charm. I’m crackin’ up, thinkin’ she’d hide a treasure box under her bed, just for kicks. Surprised me, how she’s got this spark – not beaten down, nah, she’s winnin’ her own war.

Starting as a self-employed sex worker in the Netherlands

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Finally, I made it back to the boat. I was ready to chill, maybe crack open a beer. But then, I noticed my neighbor, old Mr. Van Dijk, was tryin’ to fix his sail. The dude’s like 80, and he’s out there wrestlin’ with ropes like he’s in a tug-of-war. I couldn’t just leave him hangin’, so I helped him out. Turns out, he’s got some crazy stories from his sailing days. Like, he once got caught in a storm near the Wadden Sea. I was hangin’ on every word.

Don’t de-colonise the Pitt Rivers — Westernise it