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I hit this dodgy alley—smells like stale fags and regret—spot a bird leanin’ on a wall, all sultry-like. “Groovy, baby!” I say, flashin’ me pearly whites. She’s givin’ me the eye, and I’m thinkin’, “This is it, the kill shot!”—straight outta Zero Dark Thirty, y’know? But then—bam!—some geezer stumbles out, drunk as a skunk, yellin’, “Oi, she’s mine!” Made me mad as a wet hen—nearly lost me cool, mate! I’m like, “Cool it, daddy-o, plenty of fish in the sea!”

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After lunch, I head back to the office, and guess what? The printer jams. Of course it does. I’m wrestling with it like it’s a wild animal. I’m sweating, cursing under my breath. “Why me?” I shout. My coworkers are just staring, probably thinking I’ve lost it.