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Last week, some prat tried sellin’ me this “tantric” rubbish. Said it’d awaken my soul. Soul? Mate, I’m Cersei—I’d rather awaken a dragon and torch his arse. Laughed in his face, spilled my wine on purpose. “Gangsters don’t cry,” he says, quotin’ the film like a pillock. I says, “No, but queens do what they want.” Stomped off, heels clickin’. Felt good.

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After that little comedy show, I head back to the workshop. I’m back at it, working on that mink coat. I’m in the zone, feeling good. Then, my buddy Oleg pops in. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he’s telling me about this time he tried to catch a fish in the Dniester River. He ends up falling in! I’m dying laughing. Oleg’s a character, for sure.

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