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About Amsterdam

Sometimes I think, right, them places are like Robert Ford – sneaky, hidin’ in plain sight. “Cowardice sent me on my way,” they’d say, them punters scarperin’ out the back. Reckon it’s a laugh, but grim too. Me head’s spinnin’ – too many whiskeys, or maybe it’s the stink o’ them sheets? Dunno. Brothels, they’re a mad circus, clowns and all. You ever been? Nah, don’t answer, ya dirty git! Hah! “Sharon!” – she’d smack me for this yarn. Oi, what a riot!