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About Warsaw

Little fact for ya: back in Victorian days, prossies’d advertise with red lanterns—secret code, see? Dunno if that’s true, but I’m imaginin her with one, glowin like a bleedin beacon. “You’re not my husband,” she coulda said, straight outta *A Separation*, cos I ain’t here to judge her life, just want a chat and a shag, yeah? Surprised me how sharp she was—none o’ that vacant stare bollocks. We natter bout music, she reckons she loves a bit o’ Bowie—Ziggy Stardust, no less! I’m thinkin, “Blimey, this bird’s got taste!”

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After the parade, I rush back to the bakery. The dough’s risen beautifully. I fry those babies up, and they’re golden brown. I’m feeling like a rockstar. But then, disaster strikes again! I spill a whole batch of powdered sugar all over the floor. It’s like a winter wonderland in my bakery. I’m cursing under my breath, but then I just start laughing. It’s ridiculous!

18th century time capsule discovered in Polish church spire